The Man Who Has No Love (Soulless 3)

I got ready and went to work, last night a terrible memory I wanted to forget. We’d had a great time at dinner, reconnected instantly, but going to her Brooklyn apartment was like a stab in the gut.

I felt like a piece of shit for allowing that to happen.

What kind of man was I?

I had a short day at the office because I went in so late, and I tried to make up for the lost time by hustling and staying later than I normally would. On the car ride back, Tucker texted me. Did you talk to her?

I was annoyed with the question because it was none of his business, but I knew he had my best interest at heart. Yes.

And?

We’re together.

Thank fucking god. Jesus, that took waaaaay longer than it should have. Why are you so smart but so slow at the same time?

If you still want to use my beach house, I suggest you tread carefully.

LOL. Why don’t you two come with us? It’ll be fun.

That is a terrible idea. We’re taking it slow.

Meaning?

Meaning, we’re taking it slow.

So, you aren’t fucking???

I ignored the question.

You haven’t gotten laid in two months, and you’re just gonna remain celibate?

I missed sex, especially when I saw Cleo in that tight black dress, her tits incredible. I’d definitely felt the urge come over me during the last two months, but since my mood was so sour, I didn’t have the same sexual appetite I had before. Before Cleo and I broke it off, I couldn’t get enough of it, wanting it all the time. But once she was gone, I dried up, lost interest. Women made passes at me, but I didn’t have the carnal urge to fuck them like I used to…because there was only one woman I wanted. It’ll happen when it’s meant to happen.

Man, you could be a Tibetan monk with that kind of restraint.

I didn’t bother explaining my feelings to him, especially over text message.

I’m happy for you, man. Cleo is right for you.

I’d missed her so much, and now that she was in my life again, I felt better instantly. It wasn’t perfect, especially after the Brooklyn incident, but it was a dramatic improvement over my former lonely existence. I knew I’d hurt her as much as she’d hurt me…and we were both broken because of it.

But we would fix each other.

When I came home, Cleo wasn’t there.

I checked her bedroom and saw its vacancy.

I hadn’t gotten home until seven, so I was surprised she still wasn’t there. I showered then got dinner started, making a meal for two. I left her food in the pan so it would stay warm and sat at the dining table so I could continue work on my laptop.

When it was eight thirty, I got worried. I texted her. Are you downstairs?

Yeah. I’m at my desk.

I have dinner ready if you’re hungry.

I’ll be up later.

I could tell something was weird, but it was hard to decipher complex situations through text, so I left it alone.

She came home after nine. “Hey.” Her big purse was under her arm, full of her laptop.

“Hey.”

She walked down the hallway and disappeared.

I went into the kitchen and reheated her food and put it on a plate for her.

But she never came out.

I went to her bedroom door and knocked.

“It’s open.”

I opened the door and saw her sitting on the couch, a half-eaten granola bar beside her. Her legs were crossed, and she was going over her paperwork, like she was preparing for the following day.

I’d told her I made dinner, so I didn’t know why she was eating processed, chemically enhanced garbage. “I told you I made dinner.”

“I know, Deacon. But I’m fine. Really.”

I stared at her, completely bewildered. “I don’t understand what’s happening here.”

“You don’t need to cook me dinner or include me in your lifestyle.” She didn’t raise her gaze from the papers and kept working.

I stared her down, growing annoyed.

She finally looked at me. “I just want to stay out of your way. I don’t want you to even know I’m here.”

I cocked an eyebrow.

“You said you wanted to take it slow, and now we’re living together. I just want to give you space, not overwhelm you, not turn this into a serious relationship when we haven’t seen each other in months.”

“So, you’re going to sneak around like a mouse?” I asked incredulously.

She sighed quietly.

I moved to sit on the couch, threw the granola bar on the floor, and rested my elbows on my thighs as I looked straight ahead. “Cleo, I want you to feel welcome here. Make yourself coffee, have dinner with me, come home when you’re ready to come home. When I said take it slow, I just meant I didn’t want to jump back to what we used to be when we aren’t there yet. That’s all. I didn’t mean I wanted space from you. I’ve had plenty of space from you—I don’t want any more.”