I dream about him. About the cut of his suit, the line of his waist, the muscles moving underneath the fabric. The scent of him.

His eyes, gray-blue and electric.

His hands on my breasts, sliding down my rib cage, pressing firmly against my hips. His mouth hot on the side of my neck, sending shivers to shake my entire body.

When I wake up at 6:00 on Tuesday morning, I’m completely disoriented from the strength of the dreams. The space between my legs is hot and slick, and between waking and sleeping I can’t resist it, don’t want to resist it, and I slide my fingers underneath the silky fabric of my pajamas, underneath the tight-fitting stretch of my panties, and over the smooth skin, fresh from a recent wax, until my fingertips make contact with the throbbing button.

I don’t have a lot of time for dating, so I’m very, very practiced at getting myself off.

Afterward, cheeks flushed in the cool of my apartment—thank god for central air—I curl around one of my pillows and squeeze my eyes shut.

Leave the phone, I tell myself. Don’t look. The office is closed today.

Every ounce of my energy goes into falling asleep, and for a while I doze, but each time I start to drift off my heart begins to pound.

I know exactly why.

The instant a thought of him crosses my mind, my mouth waters for a taste of his full lips. Then, cruelly, thinking of him makes me think of the office. Holiday’s aren’t sacred to Sandra.

It’s a little past 7:00 when I toss back the covers and throw my hair up into a loose bun, the urge to check my phone finally mollified.

To my shock, there are no messages from Sandra. I have a few emails from people at Basiqué confirming appointments for tomorrow, but that’s it.

Aside from the hum of the air conditioner, my apartment is silent.

Manuel asked me what my plans were yesterday, and now that I’m here, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee on my couch, I wish I’d made some.

I while away the morning, eating breakfast at the cafe on the ground floor of my building and then standing in the shower for a full forty minutes.

For once, I linger over getting ready, straightening my long, dark hair until it falls shining over my back, then pulling back sections and holding them with strategic bobby pins. It feels good to have most of it loose. I leave my makeup simple and fresh, which still takes twenty minutes.

It’s best to be prepared.

By noon I’m ready for anything, my bright red sundress the perfect outfit for the holiday.

The only problem? I still have nowhere to go.

After another fifteen minutes flipping through the channels and trying to choose one of my New York acquaintances to text in hopes that they’ll be doing something I can attend, I can no longer stand to be in the suffocating emptiness of my apartment.

Up until yesterday, it seemed like a safe haven. Now it’s missing something.

Hunter.

No—not him.

Purse tucked under my arm, I’m about to step out of my apartment when my cell phone rings, sending my heart rate into the stratosphere. But when I pull it from my purse, it’s not Sandra who’s calling but my sister, Bee, inviting me to video chat.

For an instant I hesitate. I don’t want her to know that I’m spending the holiday alone. It only takes one rush of hot shame before I’m speed-walking back to the couch, raising the phone to a flattering angle in front of my face, and pressing connect.

“Cate!” she squeals as her image comes into view. “Oh, my god, you look so cute. Are you going out? I can call back later!”

Bee and I weren’t always friends as children, but now, as adults, she’s the closest person to me. Sadness pricks at my heart. I haven’t been talking to her much lately. Too busy on the job. I used to make it a point to text her on the way to and from assignments, but since I got the promotion to Sandra’s head assistant, everything else fell by the wayside.

“I was!” I answer, keeping my smile bright. “But I was…” What can I tell her that won’t exactly be a lie? “…leaving early. I have a couple minutes to chat. How are you?”

“Huge!” she jokes, shifting in what seems to be one of the beach chairs she and Dex bought for their back deck this summer. Bee is seven months pregnant with twins, so I can’t say she’s the slimmest I’ve ever seen her, but her face absolutely glows with happiness.

Envy flashes across my mind, but I remind myself sharply that I’ll have everything Bee has when I’m secure in my career. Not before. I learned that lesson from what happened to my dad.

I give her a little laugh. “You look great too, Bee.”

“Is that Cate?” Dex’s voice comes from somewhere offscreen, and then his handsome face appears, blocking my view of Bee. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a crush on him during high school. The hottest guys always went for Bee.

“Hi, Dex,” I say, waving, and he returns the gesture before disappearing again.

“What are you guys up to?” I ask as Bee readjusts her oversized sunglasses.

“Dex is grilling.” He calls something unintelligible, and Bee laughs. “He says he’s cleaning the grill. I’ll have to wait for food.”

“If I know you, there’s a package of Oreos on the table next to your lawn chair.”

“You’re right!” Bee’s smile is incandescent. “I never wait for food. Not these days. So, where were you headed, Cate? Are you going to some Fourth of July party? Your dress is perfect for it!”

I can’t tell her the truth—that the only plan I have in mind is to walk to the office, check in on things, then walk home. “Yeah! A couple of the girls from the office are having a rooftop cookout.”

“Oooh!” Bee bites her lip. “I wish I could come hang out with you in the city.”

“You know you’re welcome any time,” I promise, even though the thought of having to entertain on top of work nearly makes me break out in hives.

“Maybe when I’m not so pregnant!” she shouts, then dissolves into giggles. Bee loves the summer, loves holidays, loves an excuse to lounge around on the deck all afternoon. When her laugh settles down into a smile, she lets out a satisfied sigh. “Well, I won’t keep you.” Then she peers at her phone’s screen. “Are you doing okay, Cate? Your makeup is gorgeous, but you look a little…tired.”

“It’s long hours,” I say dismissively, giving her a huge, played-up smile that she can’t help but laugh at. “I’m headed in a great direction, though.”

Bee’s face turns serious again. “Remember to take a little time for yourself, okay?”

“I will.”

Dex’s voice, halfway filtered by the phone, crackles across the connection.

“What did he say?”

“He said have a beer for him! And one for me, too. But be responsible, okay? Love you! Talk soon!” Bee blows me a kiss, and I wave frantically right up until the video call disconnects.

I sigh, missing her already, then stand up and smooth my dress.

I might as well stop by the office. It’ll eat up another hour, at least.