I sat down on the sofa, telling myself to breathe.
“How are you? It’s so good to hear your voice,” he said.
You too. God I’ve missed you so much.
“It’s good to hear yours too. How’s your mom?” Yes, I headed right for the safe topic. I was still paying for her treatment at the clinic. During all that had happened, it never once crossed my mind to pull the funding. I’d never do that to him.
“She’s good. Some days are better than others, but she hasn’t really gotten worse.”
“That’s great,” I said, my voice soft. I closed my eyes. My heart ached. Was I over him? No. Had I forgiven him? I was trying my damn hardest. I blinked back tears as the intercom buzzed.
Roman had arrived.
“Coop, I have to go.” I hesitated. “It was great talking to you.”
“You too, Beth. I love you.”
But not in the way I longed for you to love me.
Hanging up the phone, I buzzed Roman in and met him at the door. I nearly melted on the spot. Does this guy get sexier every time I see him?
I took in his black pants and charcoal, pinstriped shirt, which was open at the collar. He smiled that sexy, heart-fluttering smile and I sighed. I could stare at him all day. What stuck me as surprising was how quickly Coop had escaped my thoughts.
I opened the door and walked back into the kitchen, knowing he was right behind me. This had become a pattern. He was here every night. Or I was at his place. I’d cooked extra tonight, knowing he was going to be coming over. How fucked up was that? And the fact that I was cooking? Even more fucked up, considering how bad my cooking skills were. I could burn water.
“You’re no longer surprised at me turning up. Maybe I need to switch up my game,” he joked, slipping his arms around my waist.
I turned around and reached up to kiss him. “I’m not surprised, because you do whatever you want. I don’t think anything would surprise me anymore.”
He raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he took off his jacket. Again, he was in a suit.
“What do you do, anyway?”
“Pardon?”
“For work. You’re always so nicely dressed.” Every day he was in a suit, and it had just struck me that I had no idea what he did. I suspected something boring, like tax or law.
He laughed. “There’s something wrong with a guy who always likes to look his best? You never know who’s watching, Beth.”
“I guess not.” I grimaced, thinking back on the number of times I’d dashed out of the house with no makeup and in my grungiest sweatpants. “But that didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m a businessman.” I rolled my eyes. Very informative.
“Okay, but what is it you do?” Every time I broached the subject of his career, he switched the conversation into another direction. It always worked too.
He sighed, and moved toward me. Now he was making me nervous. What could be that big a deal that he couldn’t tell me?
“I own a club.”
“A club? What, like a bar?” I said, confused. That was the big deal?
He chuckled, and wiped his mouth. “Not exactly. My club is catered toward a specific clientele.” He hesitated, turning to face me. “I own an exclusive erotic establishment.”
“You mean a strip club?” I replied.
He laughed. “God no. My club is where people who are looking to fulfill a fantasy can go to meet likeminded individuals.”
“You sound like a late night TV commercial,” I muttered, stabbing at the sauce. “How long have you had this club?”