Chapter 6

I don’t know if it’s the music, the sensual vibe of the club, or just June, but I can’t keep my hands off her. She’s been gone for two weeks for work, and we’ve been texting constantly. This morning the judge at my hearing yelled at me for looking down at my phone and missing what he’d said. So to say I’m excited to see her tonight is an understatement.

Currently she’s pressed against my office door at Panic. Hands everywhere, nails clawing at my closely shaved head, her legs wrapped around me—I swear, the woman is trying to climb me. “Please say I can fuck you right here, right now. Please, Junebug. Say you want it,” I plead into her neck between kisses. “Woman, you’re driving me fucking crazy.”

My hand cups the back of her neck, and I know I’m being rough and commanding. But I’m desperate to be inside of her. She nods her head, and with that I take control. From what I’ve learned about her in the last few weeks, she’s the kind of woman who likes to be in control herself. But even if there is always a brief war of control, eventually she relents and lets me take the lead. She has to know I’ll always make sure she’s taken care of and satisfied. “Can you be really quiet?” she whispers in my ear, so softly I almost miss it.

“Can you?” I ask challengingly.

With one arm still holding on to me, she uses the other one to push the scattered items off my desk. And I don’t give a fuck what just broke—all I care about is how fast I can get my cock inside of her. Flipping her around, I pull her dress up, slide her panties down, and push her chest down onto the cold glass of my desk. “Be a good girl and don’t make any sounds,” I whisper in her ear.

Even though my plan was to fuck her immediately, I can’t help myself when I see her with her dress over her hips and her ass in the air. So, instead, I kneel down and bury my face in her pussy. An almost unexpected moan escapes her lips, loud and pained-sounding. I can’t help but chuckle at her need and the fact she’s already being loud.

“I can’t believe you’re laughing!” she whispers. “Your tongue is inside of me. You can’t laugh!” She says this so quietly I can hardly hear.

She’s hanging on to the desk, and I can see how she’s biting her lips to keep from making any more noises, eyes shut tight. The look of pleasure sets me off. I can’t stand it any longer—I get back up and undo my zipper. Next is the sound of my belt hitting the floor, and then I’m no longer waiting. I’m pushing inside her.

Hard.

Relentlessly.

I have no more self-control. And she’s too far gone too. She’s trying so hard to be quiet, and I lean over her and whisper, “Shh…”

She turns her head slightly. “I’m being qui—”

And then I slap her ass cheek. The loud crack reverberates around the room. She opens her mouth to yell, but I cover her mouth with my hand and start pumping into her in earnest now. The table moves forward in the process and a few papers fall down as her pussy tightens so hard around my cock, it’s almost painful.

“Holy shit,” I grunt as I come just as hard, collapsing over her. “Damn.”

I’m destroyed. There’s no way anyone who got a look at our faces would doubt we’d just been fucking like two crazed animals. When I pull out of her, I see the wetness—all that is us mixed together—slide down her leg. “Jesus, that looks sexy.”

She’s quiet. Uncharacteristically quiet. I reach into a drawer and pull out some napkins. “You okay?” I ask as she tries to stand up.

“Shh,” she snaps, which leaves me completely confused. Is she mad?

“Wait.” I lift her up, turn her around, and set her on my desk, parting her legs and cleaning her up. “There you go, sweetheart. Good as new.” I kiss her lips, but it’s unreturned. “June? What’s going on?” I help her down and she rights her clothes, as do I.

“Can you just…stop talking for a second?” she says in a whisper against my ear. “I’m going to use the bathroom.”

“Okay.” I have no idea what is happening. “I have to go take care of something real quick downstairs. I’ll come back for you and we’ll go down together.”

She’s still whispering. “Go. I’ll wait here.”

I just stare at her, trying to figure out what’s going on. I don’t ask her anything because she apparently doesn’t want to talk, or maybe she just doesn’t want me to talk. I have no fucking clue. She looks over my shoulder, lost in thought. “I’m fine. Just need a minute, okay?” She kisses my cheek and heads to the bathroom.

There’s a new DJ starting today, and I need to introduce her to Blue so that she can show her the ropes. It doesn’t take long, and when I come back up, she’s lying casually and comfortably on my couch texting.

“Am I allowed to talk now?”

I must’ve surprised her because she almost drops her phone before shooting upright and shoving her phone into her purse. I’m not a jealous guy, but I’m feeling a little uncertain after what happened and the fact that she’s on her phone so often. “Yeah, sorry. I don’t know what happened. I…I think it was the music from downstairs, the window, the public setting. I’m not used to this kind of thing. I’m usually pretty vanilla, Matt, and you just caught me off guard.”

“Okay. I get that. You could have said that. I would’ve stopped.”

“That’s the thing. I didn’t want you to stop.” She waves her hands around the room. “Can we forget that? It was a bad reaction. I’m sorry.”

“It’s cool.” I cup her face. “I like you, June. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or push you too far. Please, promise me you’ll tell me next time.”

“Okay. I’ll tell you next time, but really, I’m okay now. Things just got…intense.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding. “Yeah. So fucking intense.” I’m happy to know I’m not the only one feeling it, and it makes sense why she reacted the way she did. “I know you’re probably tired from traveling, but can you stay? I’ll try to leave early, then we can go to my apartment.”

She hesitates for a moment. “Yes. I’ll stay.”

“Great. You hungry?”

“A little.”

“Okay, I’ll order food. I gotta go help out downstairs again, they’re slammed. You want to hang out here or go down?”

“Here, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay, sweetheart.” I kiss her lips and head down, ordering takeout on my way.

“You do realize we’ve been dating for four months but have only seen each other maybe half that time,” I tell June via FaceTime.

We’ve gotten into a routine where she travels during the week and stays with me on weekends, but sometimes she’s out of town even on weekends. When she’s here, she’ll come with me to the club and hang out while I work. One day when I’d had a particularly bad loss with a case, she surprised me by driving the forty-five minutes up to Fort Lauderdale and staying the night. I’m getting used to having her around when I’m in Miami, and I wish there was a way to have her around during the week too. But now she’s been gone for over three weeks and I’m in a shitty mood. Our relationship has consisted of the best moments of my life followed by June traveling and me being moody.

“I’m sorry. Work is crazy right now.”

“All the time? Even weekends?”

“Not every week. Relax—I’m boarding the plane soon. I don’t give you a hard time when you’re working—which, by the way, is all the time—so don’t do it to me.” I can tell she’s getting pissed at me.

“I’m not trying to stress you out or pick a fight. I don’t want you to feel you have to choose work over me. But I never pictured my first relationship as a long-distance one.”

“Relationship…that’s not something we’ve ever talked about. Is that what this is?” That question makes me furious, but I swallow the anger. For the first time, I wish we weren’t on FaceTime, just on a voice call. I don’t want her to see my expression, which will surely give me away.

“Of course we are. Did you think we weren’t? Wait, are you fucking someone else?”

“No!” She scowls, her eyes slits. “We just haven’t had that conversation, and I didn’t want to presume. And we are not long-distance—stop saying that.”

“Baby, I haven’t seen your face or felt your body in twenty-two days. If that isn’t long-distance, what the hell is it?”

“I’ll be there in three hours, I promise.”

“You sure this time? You talk to your boss, work that shit out, or I’m on the first plane out on Friday.” Last weekend she was supposed to come home, but her boss gave her a new client at the last minute and she had to stay.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay, then. I’ll see you soon, woman.”

“Can’t wait.”

“I just miss my Junebug, is all.”

She gives me a sweet smile before saying goodbye. When I’m alone, I slam my cell down and pace my office. I have a shitload of things to do. Nick’s up my ass to help out more, but every time I try to help, he shuts me down. I haven’t seen June in so long, and…I’m just in a mood. I sit back and look out the window that faces the club.

I roll my head side to side. The stress is getting to me. I open my drawer. I haven’t touched any drugs in months, but tonight the urge is strong. So strong I almost succumb to it, which is why I grab the stuff and rush to the bathroom to flush it down the toilet. Then I get a Red Bull and head downstairs. Maybe keeping busy at the bar will get my mind off all the things I have to do at the firm and here at Panic.

I’ve already worked it out with Nick and the rest of the employees so that I can leave early. I’ve never missed another human being as much as I’ve missed June. I hope she doesn’t plan on leaving again for some time. I left her a spare key with the doorman in my building, and knowing she’s in my apartment waiting for me makes me feel elated. I kind of want her to move in with me, stay in my apartment all the time while she’s here. Maybe that’s something we can talk about tonight. It might seem a little hasty because we’re rarely together, but really, we’ve known each other for over four months now and I’m ready for more.

“Junebug?” I say as I close the door. There’s no answer and I’m about to call out again when I see a leg hanging off the side of my sofa. Seeing that she’s sound asleep, I walk over to her and crouch down on my knees, taking a moment to look at her and then kiss her forehead. She’s so damn gorgeous. I lift her, noticing that she’s lost some weight, and I take her to my room and tuck her in. Then I go about getting ready for bed, it’s just after midnight, and I’m exhausted. Even though I had planned a much sexier reunion, getting to sleep next to her is just as good, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

The next morning, I wake up to the fire alarm going off. I jump out of bed and run out of my room, tripping over June’s bag by the door along the way. “Ow! Fuck.”

She’s standing on a chair fanning the smoke detector closest to the kitchen. “What happened?” I demand.

“I burned the bacon. I was trying to make you breakfast in bed.”

There’s a knock on the front door. “Get that, will you? It’s probably the maintenance guy. And open the doors to the balcony,” I add as I turn on the fan over the stove.

A moment later she’s back. “I told him everything was fine,” she yells over the alarm.

Finally it stops its irksome noise.

“Sorry,” she says coyly.

“Come here.” I pull her against me. “Kiss me. Tell me good morning, woman.”

“Good morning.” Her voice is so sexy. “I missed you so much. And I burned all your food.”

“I see that.” I laugh. “I’m not hungry for food, though.”

“Oh…Oh!” she exclaims with a smile and a yelp as she runs to the bedroom, disrobing on the way. I rush after her.

“Woman, I want to have all of you. I want to fucking own you.” I think a growl or some sort of feral groan escapes my lips. “Every single part of you.”

The next twelve hours are a blur of sex and takeout, and as I’m tying the knot on my tie to get to the club I realize that never in my life have I been this happy before.

“You’re coming or staying in tonight?” I ask, knowing the answer by the fact that she’s playing Sudoku on her phone, wearing one of my T-shirts, and lying lazily on my bed.

“Staying.”

As I place a knee on my bed to kiss her goodbye, I take her in—really take her in—for the first time. She looks tired and her cheeks have hollowed out.

“Are you okay?” I ask, feeling her forehead for a fever.

“Yeah, fine.” She yawns.

“Do you want me to order you some food? I can make you a sandwich. You didn’t eat much today.” I noticed she played with the chicken lo mein but didn’t really eat it.

“I’m good. I’m not too hungry. I think I’m just going to catch up on some sleep.”

“ ’Kay, baby. See you later.”

The club isn’t too packed tonight, which is unusual for a Saturday night. Nick came in a few minutes ago with David, our mutual friend, and they’re downstairs with their girlfriends at the VIP area, which is unusual. Normally when he’s not working, Nick doesn’t hang out at the club. I’m reviewing some contracts upstairs, but I have a niggling feeling that hasn’t left since I walked out the door of my apartment. I don’t want to call June and wake her, so I decide to wrap it up and head home.

I walk inside my house to total silence, which is expected since it’s almost one in the morning. I take a quick shower and quietly slide into bed. When I pull her close she groans, and then I feel how warm she is. “Hey, I think you have a fever. You okay?”

She groans again and clutches her stomach. “I’m fine.”

I reach over and switch on the lamp. She’s curled up into a tiny ball. Her hair is sticking to her face and she looks pale. “No. You’re not.”

“Can you grab my purse, please?” she asks through gritted teeth, and I practically sprint to the other side of the room to get her purse and hand it to her. She sits up, looking pained, and I wish there was something I could do.

“What’s going on? The flu, maybe? It’s been going around.”

With shaky hands she takes out a prescription bottle and pops two pills. I jog to the kitchen and bring her back a glass of water she didn’t even ask for, and she takes it. “Migraine? Sore throat? What’s up?”

“No, it’s my stomach.”

“What did you eat yesterday? Maybe it was the food on the plane.”

Her eyes are shut and she kicks off the blankets, although her teeth are chattering. “Not from the plane,” she whimpers.

“So what is it? Maybe we should go to the hospital? What can I do?”

“Let me sleep,” she whispers.

What the hell is going on? My heart is pounding and I realize maybe I don’t know her as well as I think I do. She’s shivering, clearly in pain, and on prescription meds. She scoots into me and I tuck her in close, petting her hair and rubbing her flat belly, which seems to soothe her. Eventually the harsh lines between her eyebrows smooth out, her fists stop clenching, and her breathing evens out.

She may be fast asleep, but I’m a wreck. Carefully I slide out of bed and go through her purse, looking for the bottle of pills. I know she’ll be mad I snooped, but better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission, right? What if she needs medical care? I’d need to know what’s going on.

All these justifications are running through my mind as I read the label, which is absolutely no help at all because I have no idea what the medicine is. All I understand about it is the directions: take for pain as needed.

Pulling up my phone, I Google the name of the drug and find all sorts of things about it. It seems to be some sort of pain reliever for stomach cramps and ulcers. Okay, so maybe it’s just an ulcer and I overreacted. Nick lives on ulcer tablets, because of the stress. I tuck the bottle back in her purse, slide into bed, and go back to sleep feeling a little better.

I normally wake up a lot later on the weekends, since I work until the middle of the night. So I’m surprised she’s still asleep when I wake up at midday on Sunday. I run my palm along her forehead and it’s not warm like it was last night. I’m still worried, though. She stirs and opens her eyes, a small sweet smile spreading across her face.

“Morning,” I say.

“Morning.”

“How do you feel today?”

“Better. Thanks. Sorry about last night.”

“Don’t be sorry. I was worried.”

She swings her legs over the bed and goes to the bathroom. A minute later I follow her inside. “What am I missing here? There’s something you’re not telling me.” She has a toothbrush in her mouth and is looking at me in the mirror in front of her. “I’m worried. Whatever it is, just tell me—what’s the big deal?”

“It’s no big deal, really. I’ve got this thing that gets a little exacerbated when I’m stressed.”

“Thing? What thing?”

“It’s a condition called Crohn’s disease.” She rinses out the toothpaste and uses a hand towel to dry her face, then starts to walk out of the bathroom as if she didn’t just drop a bomb.

My mom was never in the picture. She had Crohn’s disease and died from an infection soon after I was born.

I grab her forearm and stop her. She’s running again.

“Matt…” It looks like it took all her will to get the word out. This is clearly hard for her, and she’s not comfortable talking about it. But we’re building something here. I want her to feel comfortable with me.

“You don’t get it, do you?” I say. “I want to know everything about you. The pretty and the ugly. How can you fall in love with me if you can’t tell me everything?” Her eyes widen, and I see her bottom lip tremble a little. “What do you think we’re doing here?”

She takes a moment to process that before sitting down on the bed and patting the space next to her. “Do you know what Crohn’s disease is?”

“Honestly? No, not really. Except that you said your mother died from it, and now my mind is reeling, June.”

“God, you’re so honest. So open with your emotions,” she says, running her palm down my face. I take her hand and kiss the inside of her wrist.

“Not with everyone.”

She seems to understand what I’m saying. How important she is to me.

“My mom died because in her case it went untreated. But it’s an illness that if treated is not usually fatal. It’s an autoimmune inflammatory disease. Basically, your body is rejecting your intestines. That’s what it is in a nutshell. It thinks your intestines are bad, and your immune system is working overtime to fight them, as if they were a disease.”

“Oh, wow. Okay. I mean, I’ve heard of autoimmune diseases—I have a friend whose wife has MS.” I look at her sharply. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because it’s not something I talk about. To anyone. I have it pretty under control.”

I’m processing this. She has a condition that, although she says it’s not normally fatal, killed her mother. That’s a fucking huge piece of information to process. As soon as I have some time alone I’m Googling the shit out of this. I need to understand it. “You said your mother’s wasn’t treated. Is yours being treated? Does it hurt? What are the symptoms? You seem healthy—are you? Is it curable—”

“Whoa!” She cuts me off. “I am treating it. I get a shot every two weeks, which helps suppress my immune system. The shot hurts like a mother, but the disease itself doesn’t. I mean, I suppose it does, but my disease is not active right now, even though I’ve been feeling bad lately. I don’t like the word remission because it’s not cancer, but think of it as remission. It’s under control. No flares, so no, usually it doesn’t hurt. I also know what can make it worse, so I take care of myself. And no, it can’t be cured.”

“What makes it worse?”

“I’d rather not,” she says, screwing up her face. “It’s kind of an ugly and sometimes gross illness. It revolves around stomach problems, so I’d rather not get too into it. It’s not a sexy disease, Matt.”

“You, June, are sexy. I don’t give a damn about anything else. I know it’s not cool for a man to talk about weight with a woman, and don’t get mad at me for saying this, but you’ve lost weight. I noticed as soon as I saw you yesterday.”

“I’ve just been so busy with work lately. I’m sure after a few days back home my ass will be just as big as it was before.”

“The way I like it,” I say to her with a grin. “Promise you’ll tell me when you feel sick. Promise you’ll include me in this. Don’t shut me out.”

“Promise,” she replies. “You know what always makes me feel better? A hot bath.”

“Oh, really? Solo or with company?”

“Well, to date they’ve been solo, but I think with company, I might feel really, really good.”

“Then I guess it’s your lucky day, Junebug,” I say as I kiss her lips tenderly and go draw us a bath.

I take a few days off work, which I never do, and spend Monday and Tuesday with June in Miami. No work, no stress, and by Tuesday she’s eating and laughing and looking like her old self. Unfortunately, on Friday she gets a call about a new hospital opening up in Chicago, and she has to leave for three weeks tomorrow. I can see the exhaustion manifest on her face almost immediately.

When I’ve asked her about her job, all she says is that she has to meet certain goals and is really under the gun. I didn’t realize being a pharm rep was that intense, but apparently it is.

“Matt,” she says softly. It seems like she’s about to burst into tears. “Make love to me.”

“That’s always what we do, sweetheart.”

She unzips her black skirt, pulls it down, and kicks it aside, then she unbuttons each and every button on her blouse, slowly revealing an emerald-green bra that matches a barely-there thong.

“You’re so beautiful.” And now I have a lump in my throat. “I don’t like when you leave for this long. And before you say anything, I know that it’s your job and I’m not trying to make you feel bad about it, I’m just telling you…that I miss you when you’re gone.”

“I know.” She kneels on the bed and reaches for me and starts unbuttoning my shirt. She runs her nails down my chest, and my cock immediately hardens even more. She leans forward and takes my flat nipple into her mouth, not losing eye contact through those thick eyelashes. I groan from pleasure when she nips firmly, her hands continuing their path down. “Can I?” she asks coyly when she reaches my belt buckle.

“There’s nothing you’d ask that I’d say no to.”

She unbuckles my belt, then undoes my pants, and I help push them down, along with my boxer briefs. “If I’m naked, you’re naked,” I say, reaching around her and undoing her bra and then pulling her panties down her legs. I climb on the bed and lie down, my fingers behind my neck. This seems to be her show and I can’t wait to see what it is that she wants. She slides down my body until her wet cunt is on my thigh, and she grips my cock with her hand, slowly and firmly and in control. She’s still looking at me. It’s like she wants to say something but can’t. It’s probably the same way I look. I want to tell her all the ways I need her and want her in my life, but this isn’t the right time. She leans down and licks me from tip to shaft, and then my cock’s in her mouth. God, the pleasure is almost painful. This isn’t the first time in the months we’ve been together that she’s gone down on me, but this is different for some reason. I groan when she starts to go a little faster, and when I’m about to lose my goddamn mind, I stop her and hoist her up so she’s over my cock, then ease her down onto it. I grab her hips and help her move up and down.

She grinds down hard as I push my hips up, and words aren’t needed. I know exactly when she comes because it’s at the same time that I do. Eye to eye, chest to chest, lips to lips.

After we shower we lie down in bed together, clicking through the television channels for something to watch. “Stop!” She yanks the remote from my hand. “I love this movie.”

“You’re the first woman I’ve met who prefers The Transporter to The Notebook.”

“Because…Jason Statham.”

“Again, bald versus stupid beard. It’s hard to meet smart women nowadays,” I joke, laughing.

We’re watching the movie, and about halfway in, I realize this is the first time she doesn’t have her phone on her. It doesn’t even seem to be nearby. I like that a lot. I’m about to tell her when she says, out of the blue, “How’s the club doing? Anything new? Your dad?”

The club? Why are we talking about the club? “It’s good. Same ol’, same ol’. Dad’s good too. Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering. You’re not so jittery anymore. Maybe business has slowed down or something?”

“No. It’s the same. But my brother said that to me last week too.” It’s funny how work is still intense and now I also have a girlfriend to add to the things that keep me occupied, but I’m also more at peace, I think. I’ve cut back on the Red Bull, haven’t been drinking, and haven’t even thought about drugs. Things couldn’t get any better. Well, that’s not true. One thing could be better. “I think you should move in with me,” I blurt out.

For a moment I think she stops breathing. “Whaaat?”

“Look, when I’m here we’re together, and you seem to like being together here at my apartment. So, why not just stay here? Like, all the time?”

She sits up. I notice her hands are a little shaky. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course. Think it over. When you get back from…?”

“Uh…San Diego?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“No. San Diego. I’m going to San Diego,” she says, firmly this time.

“Okay, when you get back from San Diego, you can tell me. You don’t have to say yes, but I really hope you will.”

We go back to watching the movie, but it’s obvious she’s lost in her thoughts, as am I. Why didn’t she just say yes? Sometimes I realize I don’t know her as well as I think I do.

She turns her body so she’s looking at me. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, Junebug.”

“You told me about…you know, the drugs. Be honest with me—have you used? While we’ve been together?”

I let out a breath, my fingers clasped behind my neck and I’m looking up to the ceiling. “No. But I’ve thought about it.”

“And what happened? Do you carry it on you? Where is it?”

“Why? You thinking of using yourself?” I ask, mostly because I’m not liking this conversation and also because the thought of her ever using drugs makes me see red.

“No. Just curious, is all.”

“I was on edge a few times while you were gone those first few times. I almost did it, but I tossed it. I’m clean. I have nothing on or around me. Trust me?”

“Yes. Absolutely.” She seems infinitely relieved. Maybe that’s why she hesitated on saying yes to moving in.

“How about Nick? I don’t know him well, but is he…you know, also using?”

“Not as far as I know. Why?”

She shrugs. “Just wondering.”

“You’re being weird. You sure everything is okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. I’m happy. Happy to be here with you.” Her eyes begin to water, and she quickly wipes them. “I want to remember tonight forever.” She kisses my cheek and curls up close to me. My brows knit together; why is she being so emotional? I’ll never understand women.

I startle awake at a knock at the door, and I get out of bed, noticing June’s not in bed with me.

I hear her thanking someone and then closing the door gently.

“What’s this?” I ask, watching her lug a big square package inside.

“I bought you something the other day when I was in Chicago.” She gets a knife to open the box.

We unwrap it together and lay it carefully on the table. It’s a watercolor painting that looks like a man leaning against a bar with a drink—though it’s hard to tell because of the way the colors are all blended together.

“You bought me this?”

“Yeah. You like it? I thought your apartment could use some color. If it’s too much, you don’t have—”

“I love it, sweetheart,” I interrupt, and give her a kiss. “No one’s ever done something so nice like this before.”

“Oh, well, good. I’m glad I could be the first. I thought you could put it on the wall by your television.”

Emotions are overflowing within me, and I want to scream: I love you. It’s almost out of my mouth when she says she needs to get going soon.

Her clear blue eyes look almost translucent against the morning light seeping in through the window. Her smile doesn’t meet her eyes, and she’s busying herself looking through her makeup case.

“You okay, baby?”

Finally she looks up. “Me? Yeah, of course. Fine.” She clears her throat, then walks to the bathroom and starts brushing her teeth. “Just running a little late, is all.”

“I’ll drive you,” I offer as I reach around her and take the toothbrush and paste.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll call a cab.”

“I’ll drive you,” I repeat. “It’s no sweat.”

“Matt, really—”

I spit out the paste and wipe my face with a towel. “What’s the big deal? It’s not a problem. I want to.”

She lets out a shaky breath. “Okay, sorry. Yeah, that’s good. Thanks.”

I watch her as she starts to put on makeup, her hands a little shaky and her lips downturned. I reach for her waist and pull her toward me, causing her to yelp in surprise. “Hey, you’re worried about something. What’s going on? Was it about last night? It was intense.”

“Yeah, it was intense,” she agrees, almost sadly. “I feel like…”

“Like things have changed?” She nods. “But in a good way, right? You’re scared, but so am I. I feel…” I take a deep breath. It’s time to say the thing I’ve been wanting to say—needing to say—for a while now. I put the makeup shit she’s holding down and turn her around. I want to look into her eyes when I tell her. Tucking a chunk of hair behind her ear, I tip her chin up. “Look at me,” I order, and she blinks a few times—I think I see some moisture in her eyes. She has to know what I want to say. “Junebug, you make me so happy. I’ve never met someone who’s so easy to be with. You’re so real, so open, so honest, I think that’s the thing I love most—”

“Matt, no,” she interrupts me, and covers my mouth with her palm. I smile and nip her hand. “Don’t say it.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to say anything back. But I feel like I have to say it, because with the way you’re acting, I get the feeling you don’t know that I’m crazy in love with you. Fucking insanely in love with you. And if you’re going to run, you’ll break my heart. And I know you don’t want to do that. Especially since I’ll catch you at the end.”

“Oh God…” she whispers, her bottom lip quivering. A tear slips down her face.

“I know you do too, even if you can’t say it or won’t say it, or aren’t ready to say it. So turn around and finish getting ready so I can drive you to the airport.”

“You’re such a good man, Matt.”

“Think about that, baby, while you’re out of town,” I say with a wink as I playfully slap her ass and walk out.

“Trust me, it’s all I think about,” she replies, oddly somber.

By the time we arrive at the airport, she’s tucked her hair behind her ears a dozen times.

We’re at the curb, and I get out of the car and pull out her luggage. When I turn to her, I see that she’s crying. That shakes me to the core. This woman isn’t a frivolous crier. She’s tough and strong, and in an instant I’m panicking.

I cup her face with my palms. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

She swallows and shakes her head. “Nothing,” she says with a sniffle. “Nothing. I’m fine. I guess I’m just going to miss you, is all.”

“June?” She turns her head into my palm and kisses the inside and her tears fall faster now. “Baby, you’re scaring me.”

“I…it’s just that it’s been such a wonderful five months and…I’ll just miss you, is all.”

The police officer at the terminal walks up to us and yells for us to hurry up and move my car. “I’ll see you soon. We’ll FaceTime all the time. We’ve done this before—it’ll be fine.”

“I know. I know.” She hiccups and sniffs again, then she wraps her arms around my neck and squeezes hard, nails against my neck, tears wetting my shirt, shoulders shaking. I can’t help but tighten my grip too, lifting her up, almost off the ground. To anyone looking, it would seem as if she’s off to war or something long-term and awful, not a quick trip to San Diego. Blood is pumping through my veins and the sense of dread radiating off her is seeping into me.

The police officer yells at us again.

She wipes her face with her hand and kisses my lips. Just as she’s about to pull away, I grab the back of her neck and pull her right back, giving her a final kiss, a kiss that I hope will wipe away whatever melancholy she’s feeling.

“Have a safe trip, sweetheart. Call me when you get there, okay? And remember what we talked about.” I want her to move in with me the moment she gets back. I hope she’ll say yes. But she’s looking at me somberly. “Hey, no pressure, remember? If I’d known telling you I love you would fuck you up like this, I probably would’ve waited.” I chuckle.

“I wish you could make me stay,” she says, just like she did that first time I met her.

“If it wasn’t a work thing, I would.”

Holding her face in my big palms, I kiss her one last time, pouring out all my emotions. “Baby, I think you better go before I push you against my car and give the entire airport a show. Not to mention that the cop will probably give me a ticket.”

“I just want…I just—”

“I felt it, baby. I always feel it.”

But then she gives me the most beautiful thing anyone has ever given me, and the dread I’m feeling subsides almost immediately. “I love you too, Matt,” she blurts out. “I just—you’ve made me so happy. You’ve been so unexpected.”

“I’ll see you in a few days,” I say. “Stop acting as if this is goodbye.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry. See you soon.”

As I drive off there’s an uneasy feeling crawling up my spine, squeezing the muscles along my neck and shoulders, moving up my tight jaw, and pounding in my head. I can’t pinpoint what it is, but there’s just something…off. The high from June’s declaration of love is wearing off. As I’m parking at Panic, I get a text from June: I love you, Matt. Immediately I feel better. Her plane is probably about to take off.

“Roger is going to hang at the VIP tonight,” Nick says, bursting into my office. Personally, I don’t like Nick’s best friend. He seems skeevy, but who am I to judge?

“Did you tell Toro to let him in?”

“Yeah. Oh, and Naomi is here with a friend who’s getting married.”

“Bachelorette thing? You put her group in the back lounge?”

“Yeah, they’re all set,” he says, leaning back in the chair. “Things good with you?”

“June just left for three weeks. Sucks.”

“Yeah. It—” Nick never finishes his thought, because just then all hell breaks loose.

The music comes to a screeching halt, and I hear a commotion. I spin my chair around and look out the window. There’s a group of men, all dressed in black suits, walking inside. They’re holding out badges and escorting people out. I’m completely confused. Nick is staring at his phone. “What the hell’s going on?” I ask.

“Not sure,” Nick says. “Toro texted me. Said it’s the feds. Where’s Naomi?”

“No clue. Where’s Dad?”

“I don’t know. Gonna go find them,” Nick yells, running down the stairs. I’m about to do the same when a group of men come up, preventing me from moving. They show me their badges and read me my rights, and before I have a chance to process what the hell is going on, I’m being shuffled out of my own goddamn club in handcuffs.