She glared at Jess, as if daring her to refute her words, but Jess just nodded gravely.
Cleo took another bite of pancake, followed it with a sip of tea, and continued, “Then this guy, this bloody bastard who barely noticed when I left the UK, has the nerve to send me that damn letter. Even worse, he has the bollocks to show up out of the blue and apparently expect me to pick up where we left off. Is he really that clueless as to why I left in the first place?”
The question was rhetorical, and Cleo barreled on without giving Jess a chance to respond. “I won’t have it, I tell you,” she exclaimed hotly, slamming the table with her fist and causing some of the tea in her cup to slosh onto its saucer. Embarrassed, she glanced around at the other patrons, but no one was paying them the slightest attention.
Jess shook her head, her expression gentle. “I get it. You know I do.”
Cleo nodded gratefully. Jess had had her own emotional turmoil dealing with Master Cameron, the roadblocks thrown up by their complicated relationship at times having seemed insurmountable.
Jess placed her hand lightly over Cleo’s. “You’ve worked through a lot of stuff these past few months, what, with your therapy and all. You’re not the same woman you were back in London.”
“Damn straight,” Cleo affirmed.
“But think about it, Cleo. When you left, Jack was surely still grieving. Heck, maybe you were grieving, too. After all, Annette was your dear friend as well.”
Cleo nodded, blinking back sudden tears.
Jess gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “From what you’ve told me, he was using the pleasure subs at the club as a kind of anesthetic, not that different from a stiff drink. He was avoiding his feelings because they were too painful. Maybe he had to keep you at a distance because of the shared past between the three of you.”
“Yeah. That makes sense,” Cleo agreed. “But it doesn’t excuse his behavior. He completely shut me out, even when I tried to reach out. When he finally showed up again, it was like that intimacy I’d thought we shared had never existed. Instead, he used me as a distraction, lumped in with the other pleasure subs.”
She glowered, adding, “Now he comes waltzing back into my life like everything’s fine. Well, bugger that. I’m over it.”
Jess was silent a moment, biting her lip as she gathered her thoughts. “Hmm,” she finally said. “If that’s really true—if you’ve genuinely moved on, then what’s the harm in letting things play out as they may?” She brightened, adding, “And who knows? Maybe this time will be different.”
She leaned closer across the small table, adding, “I was there last night. I saw you guys together on the bondage wheel and later in the tank. The sparks were definitely flying. Nobody’s saying you have to throw away everything you’ve worked so hard to build here in New York. But I’d hate to see you shut this down before it even has a chance to go anywhere.”
Before Cleo could respond, Jess continued, “Don’t forget, Cleo. I’ve been there, done that. Master Cameron and I danced all around our relationship at first, as I’m sure you recall. It wasn’t that the connection wasn’t there. It was, and we both knew it. It was fear. Fear of intimacy—fear of getting hurt. It’s scary to put your heart out there.”
“But it was different for you guys. There was no ghost of a past love haunting you.”
“We had our own roadblocks. Little things, like his being my boss and the possible tanking of my career,” Jess replied with a laugh. Sobering, she continued, “All I’m saying is, don’t judge him so harshly. Give him a chance. Take it from someone who ran from intimacy her entire life. When the chance of love is holding out its hand, you need to find the courage to seize it.”
“Love,” Cleo cried indignantly. “Who’s talking about love? He didn’t come here to see me—he’s only here on business. I’m just an afterthought.”
Tears pricked at her eyelids. She blinked them away. How she used to envy Jack and Annette, who had found the best of both the vanilla and BDSM worlds together. “He loved her so much, Jess. She was all he saw. I was just their prop—a little something to spice things up. Let’s say he is ready to move on. How could I ever hope to match up to her? The last thing I want to be is somebody’s consolation prize.”
“Okay, so he loved Annette,” Jess said, a touch of impatience entering her voice, which she softened with a smile. “That’s a good thing, Cleo. It proves he’s a man capable of making a commitment. Shit happens—bad shit, like car accidents. And people suffer loss, and they grieve. But life goes on. And no, you’re nobody’s consolation prize. From the little I saw last night, and the powerful experience you shared, that’s not how he sees you. Give him a chance?”