“What are you doing here, Silas?”

A familiar feeling of indignation and annoyance filled me as he pushed past me and entered my loft as I folded my arms across my chest.

“You can’t just fucking barge in here like this. You know that!” I snapped, ready to give him a full-on blast of shit as I sniffed the air around him, smelling his breath for alcohol.

It wouldn’t be the first time he had walked into my apartment unsolicited. He used to think because I lived upstairs from Settlement that it gave him free access to come and go as he pleased. Booze had often played a factor in those visits but as I opened my mouth to order him out again, he whirled to look at me, his dark hair dishevelled, gray eyes wide with an expression I couldn’t immediately identify.

Despite our turbulent history, I could not deny that my ex-husband and the bane of my existence was a devastatingly handsome man.

He towered over me by seven inches, his frame solid and muscular, even beneath a loose-fitting vee-neck.

I loved him in wine; the color flattered his olive complexion and dark hair.

Before I could stop it, my mind flashed on the abs that I knew were just beneath the thin fabric, etched in rippled skin.

Stop it! I scolded myself.

“Hear me out for a minute, Mags,” he said quietly. Something in his tone made me bite my tongue, despite knowing him better.

What heartfelt horseshit is he going to feed me now? I wondered, my mouth puckering into a sneer of contempt.

Nineteen years I had done this circus show. Almost two decades of cleaning up after his shenanigans and even two years after our divorce, I was still entertaining whatever neurosis Silas was humoring at the time.

“Silas, this is getting seriously fucking old,” I told him coldly. “What if I had company tonight?”

He looked at me blankly and I felt myself bristle with anger.

It had never occurred to him that I might be dating someone else. In his egocentric brain, I was always going to be good old reliable Maggie, his high school sweetheart and the giant pushover who never saw it coming.

That wasn’t really a fair assessment, either; I had seen everything he was doing. I had just chosen to ignore it until it was too late.

Not anymore, I thought bitterly, waiting impatiently for him to spit out whatever it was he had come to say.

“Maggie, I’m done,” he told me, and I stared at him.

I couldn’t help it—I laughed. “Yeah,” I replied sharply, “I’ve known that for a while. That doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”

He looked at me with that peculiar expression on his face again and I felt a almost-forgotten flutter in my heart.

Stop it! I chided myself angrily. He’s not the high school quarterback anymore. He’s a failed man whom you have already wasted half your life on. Your prime, childbearing years. You’re thirty-eight years old and starting over.

I couldn’t afford to dwell on that, not anymore.

And I wasn’t starting over, not really. Not the way Silas was. I had the restaurant after all and it counted for something. It may not have been the success it was when my ex was in the kitchen but it was keeping me afloat…better than afloat really.

“I need you to look after my affairs,” he said and I scoffed.

“You really need an ear candling. I am not looking after shit for you anymore…wait, what you do mean by that?”

“I will give you a list of things to take care of when I’m gone,” he told me gravely and a wave of alarm swept through me.

What was he saying?

“Hold on a second,” I breathed, slowly allowing my arms to fall to my hips as I gaped at him. “What affairs?”

“Can we sit down and talk?” he asked, and panic began to mount in my stomach as I nodded.

“Yes,” I said, ushering him further inside minding the steps into the sunken space.

Suicide was something Silas had never spoken of before but I, of all people, knew his life had been spiralling out of control since his dealings with the Russians.

The debt, the loss of his celebrity status and internet following, the divorce – it was all a recipe for disaster, but I had never taken Silas as the type to end his own life. There was just so much… life in him. In the past years, since his popularity had grown, so had his ego.

Remnants of the laid-back, fun man I had fallen in love with had been overshadowed by a cocky, fame-hungry monster, whose personal gratifications took precedent over everything, everybody else.

I watched him pace the gleaming mahogany wood of the living room. He ran a hand through his unkempt mane of hair and I debated whether to offer him a drink.

If he was already drunk and in a bad place, I would only be adding to his depressive state of mind but if he was just on edge, a shot or two of scotch might do him good.

“Sit down,” I instructed him. “I’ll fix you a drink.”

Truthfully, it was more because I needed one than anything.

He looked at me gratefully and reluctantly accepted a spot on an antique wing chair near the stone fireplace. Everytime I looked at it, I wished it worked. But I knew better than anyone that we couldn’t have everything we wished for…

His brow furrowed as I turned to the bar.

“You changed the furniture in here,” he commented, and I bit back the response on my lips.

“I thought I could use a remodel,” I answered smoothly. I didn’t add that I was trying to disinfect the sprawling loft of his memory.

I handed him a cut crystal glass and sat on the couch, facing him. He turned his body toward me, our knees almost touching. His woefulness was almost tangible as our gazes locked.

“What’s going on, Silas?” I asked quietly. “What affairs are you dealing with? That you want me to deal with?”

“Power of attorney, my apartment, car payment and banking information,” he listed, as if he had memorized it.

I swallowed a sigh and set my untouched drink onto the glass coffee table, leaning forward to grasp his hands in mine.

“Silas,” I murmured, realizing how serious he was about what he was saying. “Nothing is this bad. Have you spoken to your therapist?”

He gaped and me, his brow crinkling in surprise.

“Of course,” he replied. “She thinks it’s a good idea also.”

I gasped, anger coursing through me.

“What?” I choked. “What do you mean she thinks it’s a good idea?”

He shrugged.

“She’s arranging it for me.”

“What the fuck?” I yelled, rising. “Give me her information! I am reporting her to the ethics board. She has a professional duty to—” I was at a loss for words. “This is not a good idea! There are other options!”

He studied my face, his confusion matching mine.

“I would have thought you would be on board with this, Mags. You have had it the worst of anyone I have hurt. It’s time to end this once and for all.”

I glared at him in disbelief. Tears of frustration filled my eyes.

“How can you be so…so… lassiez-faire about this?” I screamed. “I love you, you fucking idiot. No matter how much you have hurt me, no matter how much of my life you’ve stolen, I would never wish you dead!”

I wrenched my hands from his, burying my face in my palms as I was wracked with sobs.

“Woah!”

Suddenly I was in his arms, his firm body pressed against me. The familiar angles and grooves of his body only made me cry harder.

His hands cupped my face and he pulled back to meet my gaze, his sooty eyes gleaming.

“Baby, I love you too,” he told me, and I bawled until I couldn’t see anymore, my eyes burning as Silas kissed my tears away.

“Shh,” he begged me. “Don’t cry, Mags, I didn’t mean – “

But the floodgates had opened, and my cries stifled his words as anguish flowed through me.

If he did something this drastic… if he gave up, it would be my fault. I would never forgive myself. I needed him to realize that nothing was this bad, that even though we weren’t together, I was still on his side.

His mouth grew hotter on my face and the range of emotions flooding my body seemed to meet in a rush at my center as I raised my lips to his. He pulled me onto his lap.

I wanted him to taste my mouth, to feel the love I had for him despite everything we’d been through. I wanted him to know that I couldn’t imagine life without giving him shit on a semi-regular basis.

“I miss you so much,” Silas murmured as my tongue lashed out to touch his lips, tasting salt.

His fingers dug into my back, pressing me closer and I felt the bulge of his arousal against my pajama bottoms.

I had missed him too, I realized in a wave of regret. I sighed, a shuddering breath of emotion wracking me as Silas’ hands splayed across my back. He yanked off the top of my t-shirt in a swift move, freeing my small, firm breasts for him to caress.

I didn’t stop him.

I moaned slightly as his fingers tweaked the taut skin of my nipples, his head trailing across my naked shoulders.

Between my legs, he pulsated against me and I knew I needed him inside me, no foreplay, no teasing.

“I missed you, baby,” I confessed, my nipples growing harder with his squeezes.

His teeth sank into my shoulder and abruptly he spun me around, my body falling forward onto the couch. My arms barely broke the fall as Silas pulled off my flannel bottoms and kicked them aside.

It was clear his desire was the same as mine, the need to be inside me, recapturing a fire I had believed to be long gone.

I gasped as his open palm slapped at the tender flesh of my cheek before spreading me apart.

Before I knew what was happening, Silas had dropped to his knees, pulling me down atop his parted mouth.

His tongue darted out, filling my already sopping middle and I shivered, more heat pouring forth as he gripped my ass.

He still knew all my secret spots, his fingers massaging me, inching toward the crack, his laps growing long and deep.

“Oh fuck,” I muttered, knowing I was going to come already—the sensations of pleasure and melancholy a foreign, stunning combination. “Fuck me, Silas. Please.”

He grunted, the vibration shooting through me and I felt my body tensing. Silas knew me too well, his grip intensifying with the strokes of his tongue.

My toes curled, and I moaned, loud and ferally. He groaned as I soaked him, his tongue circling my throbbing clit teasingly before he retreated from the spot where he was wedged against my trembling thighs.

He mounted me, pushing my slim body forward, my breasts meeting the soft material of the sofa. A shiver darted up my spine as the tip of his engorged head met the cleft of my ass, where he slid himself.

“I had almost forgotten how sweet you taste,” he murmured in my ear, angling down and pressing himself into my tight but slick entrance.

I yelped as he prodded inside me as I, too, had forgotten how big his cock was until he filled me. The size of him took my breath away but I could not stop myself from bucking upward to feel him entirely, my muscles contracting against his shaft.

“Oh shit, baby,” Silas rasped. “You have always been so tight. You fit me like a glove.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” I ordered, the words escaping in short puffs as he set himself back to cling to my hips.

We fell forward in synch as he drove inside me, where no other man could ever touch me. My hands curled into a fist, nails digging into my palms.

“Fuck, Maggie, how could I have ever let you go?” he grunted, his thrusts becoming almost violent. The couch moved with us, his stabs bringing me back to the place I wanted to be.

“Don’t let me go,” I begged, remembering why he was there. “Stay with me.” I wasn’t ready to be without him in the world. The world wasn’t ready for that, either.

He exhaled, his balls slapping against my tender clit and my body seized.

In unison, he tensed and as yet another streaming orgasm escaped me, Silas spurted hot streaks into me. He bucked forward, his fingers pinching my hips so tightly that I knew there would be bruises in the morning.

It was nothing he hadn’t done before, our lovemaking often marking my fair flesh.

Spent, my body eased into the sofa and Silas slid out of me slowly, his breaths still uneven as he fell against the cushions.

I turned to look at him, my heart pounding with hope that whatever we had shared had at least put him in the right mindset or made him realize that his life was worth living.

“So?” I asked him softly, propping myself up to look at him. “How do you feel now?”

He grinned at me, his chest still rising and falling dramatically as he tried to catch his breath.

“More determined than ever to do it,” he replied, and I felt fear flood me.

“How can you say that?” I gasped, shaking my head. “You have so much to live for!”

I knew I probably wasn’t saying the right things to a man entangled in depression, but I couldn’t stop myself.

“Mags, I think you misunderstood,” he said, a faint smile on his face as he looked at me. “I’m not going to kill myself.”

More uneasiness filled me as I gaped at him.

“Then what are you talking about?” I asked slowly, a familiar humiliation staining my cheeks.

“I’m checking into a rehab facility, Mags. I’m going to cut off the outside world for two months and get myself together and away from temptation.”

We stared at one another for a long moment. I saw the eagerness in his eyes and heard the sincerity in his tone.

“Say something!” he urged when I remained silent.

My hand flew up and I slapped his face as hard as I could, before bouncing to my feet.

“Maggie!” he cried, his hand cupping his face. “What the hell?”

I closed my eyes to his aghast expression. “I’ll take care of your shit until you get back,” I told him in a cold tone. “But after this, I better not ever hear you ask me for a favor again. Are we clear?”

The memory of that day two months earlier was forever ingrained in me, no more than that moment as I waited for Silas to give up pounding on my door. Finally there was silence, and I looked out the window through the blinds to watch him retreat to his car.

He was being pelted by May rain, the spring day creating a sodden mess of a filthy New York parking lot. I made a mental note to check with maintenance about the shape of the area, but the unacceptable appearance of the tarmac was the least of my concerns at that moment.

We had a deal, I thought grimly. He agreed to stay away.

Yet furious as I still was with him, I could not help but check him out as he back disappeared into the Audi. In even the few short steps it had taken him to get from the building’s entrance to the car, the storm had assaulted him and his clothes clung to him like cellophane.

Wherever he had been, it had done him good. Even from the distance between us, I could see he looked healthy, tanned and had even put on a bit more muscle. Or at least it looked that way to me.

But for all I knew, he had been in Vegas or Reno, not rehab.

I could almost hear him saying that to me. It wasn’t a far leap of my imagination.

“No, babe, I said Reno not rehab!”

Man, I was fucking horny. I must have been, checking Silas out after the shit he had pulled, allowing me to believe he was going to off himself. I was not acting like myself. I tried unsuccessfully to justify the dampness in my panties as the Audi pulled out of the lot.

Screw Silas. I don’t need him or any of his bullshit in my life. I have been fine without him for two years and will continue to be, no matter what. I don’t need anyone. I am a self-rescuing princess. That’s a thing, right?

It seemed to me I’d heard that somewhere before.

Stepping away from the window, I made my way back to the bed and curled up among the comforter, pulling the blanket clear up to my chin. I tried to push aside the question haunting me.

If I didn’t need him or anyone else, why did I feel so lonely lately?