Now a blush started to creep up her neck. She grabbed the comforter and pulled it around her, as if to shield herself from me. I thought I saw a flash of sadness or regret in her eyes, but it was only there briefly. “No,” she said. Her voice was strained, like she was trying to keep it even.
“Then why are you doing this to me?” I asked.
She winced then. “I’m not doing this to you, James. I’m doing it for you.” It looked as if she might cry, but she was still trying to sound defiant.
“Audrey,” I said, “what the fuck does that even mean?”
Her face crumbled then and she looked sad, defeated. “I meant what I said last night. About loving you,” she said, miserably. “But I wish I didn’t.”
I sat down on the bed heavily. I took another sip of my drink and looked at her wounded face. She was clutching the necklace again and I took that as a sign. A sign to be brave.
“Well, it would suck if you didn’t mean it,” I said. “Because I love you, too.”
She didn’t look at me.
She just reached over and grabbed my hand, holding on for dear life.
* * *
“Jesus, Audrey,” I said, cradling her on my lap. “You don’t have to cry.”
“But I do,” she wailed, blowing her nose as she rested against my chest.
“The fact that we’re in love,” I said, savoring the way the words felt on my lips, “that’s a good thing. Not something to get hysterical over.” I ran my hands down her back, thrilled and relieved to have her back in my arms, the walls between us finally coming down.
“But you can’t love me back,” she said, blowing her nose again, “It’s going to ruin everything.”
“In what screwed-up universe does this ruin everything?”
“In yours,” she said. “Your screwed-up universe. No wait—mine.”
I took a deep breath and pulled her in closer. “Can you please start making sense? I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
She sighed and nestled in closer to me. “James, I love you. I do.” She looked up at me, her face honest and afraid.
“I love you, too,” I said. It felt so good to say it out loud. Joy surged through me, and I hugged her to me. Audrey’s eyes were still shining with tears, but these looked happier. I leaned down and kissed her, my feelings for her overpowering and fierce.
But she pulled back. “What?” I asked. “Why are you pulling away from me?”
“I don’t want you to love me.”
“Why the fuck not?” I asked hotly.
“Because I’m not good for you, James. I can’t be with you like that.”
“Of course you can.”
She shook her head. “I’m an escort, James. That’s a fancy word for hooker, in case you didn’t know.”
“I know exactly who you are. I couldn’t care less what you’ve done.”
“Well, good for you,” she said, moving a little farther away from me. She dried her eyes. “Your family would have a very different opinion, I’m guessing.”
“Good for them. They can call me to complain about it. Trust me, I won’t answer. They can have a hell of a time expressing their dissent to my voicemail, which I never check.”
She sighed, sounding frustrated. “I don’t think you’ve thought this through.”
“And you have?” I asked, challenging her.