I’m not going to go back there. I don’t have to let the scene play out. I’m in Mason’s office with my brothers. I’ll never be with that man in that alley again.
“Since that guy in the alley stabbed me. And raped me.”
The memory stops. The heat doesn’t come. Neither do the bricks, or his hand.
Jameson punches the air.
“Are youcheeringfor that motherfucker?”
“I didn’t cheer.” He holds out his hand for a high-five. “But if I was cheering, I’d be cheering for you.”
“Why?”
“Because you never say what happened. You just allude to it.” Jameson’s doing his trying-not-to-cry grin. “Are you going to high-five me? Because this is getting awkward.”
I high-five him.Softly.Then Mason holds his hand out, too.
“Fuck. That was the only time, okay? And no more high-fives for shit like this.”
“Your wish is our command.” Jameson leans back in his seat and steeples his fingers. “Now. Back to Elise.”
“We tried some things. And it was…it was really fucking hard.”
For maybe the first time in his life, Jameson doesn’t crack a joke. “You didn’t like it?”
“No. I did. I’m just not used to being like that with anyone. Like she popped open my ribs and looked at my heart.”
“Gross,” Jameson says.
“I just…” Some of the peace and happiness from brunch dims. “I don’t know if I can stay that…vulnerable, I guess. I love her so fucking much. And it’s hard.”
This is the least smooth I’ve ever sounded. Admitting this to Jameson and Mason, despite last week’s cry-fest, feels uniquely dangerous. It feels like a dark alley. Anything could be hiding in the shadows.
Mason leans forward and clasps his hands. “I’m sorry you had to do that for us back then. I’ve said it before, but…I’m always going to be sorry.”
“I’m actually not surprised you did that stuff.”
I stare at Jameson. “You are such a prick.”
“No, I mean…look. You and Elise are two peas in a pod. You’ll do the darkest possible shit for the people you love.” His expression softens, and he pouts a little like he’s looking at something painfully cute. “The two of you are sweet, in a dark, edgy, maybe-violent way.”
“She’s the least violent, Jameson. She makes cupcakes for a living.”
“Mmm, I think her big sellers are wedding cakes. Brides are vicious. She has to have sharp claws.”
“She doesn’t. She’s gentle with me. It’s still—I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re not.”
“He’s right,” Mason says. “You and Elise go together. If it’s hard, just tell her. She’ll get through it with you.”
Jameson takes him in. “How’d it go when Charlotte fucked you?”
“None of your business. Before we miss the entire episode, we need to talk about all the bullshit with the consortium.” Mason’s crisp, businesslike tone does not hide the fact that he just obliquely admitted that Sunshine Van Kempt could be a freak in the sheets.
It takes an incredible amount of effort to keep the grin off my face. “Go on.’
“Bettencourt’s dead. All of his crimes have been exposed. The lawyers have looked over everything again, and the contract you signed to join the consortium isn’t going to hold up.”
“Then why do you look freaked out?”