Orgasms.

Fucking hell.

Why did I bring her question back to the basest of answers?

I had the chance to level up. To tell her I want more than one song. I want a whole album with her. I want all the albums.

And that means I want the sleepless nights, the three a.m. wake-up screams, the need for endless caffeine.

Most of all, I want the chance to do that as a team, and to have her be a team with my boy and me too. To take him to his first day of school together, to the museum, to art class.

I. Want. It. All.

And I didn’t tell her.

Roxy heads home to change clothes, and I groan as I catch a subway to Campbell’s to pick up Ben since he spent the night there. Raking a hand through my hair, I replay my words. I can give you more if you like.

I’d like to smack the me of two hours ago upside the head. Grab a time-turner, rewind it one hundred twenty minutes, and zip back to the moment when she asked her question—is this a one-time thing or are we thinking it could be multiples?

Fine, maybe she was talking about sex, but I had an opening. I had an opportunity to see if her interest in multiples extended beyond orgasms. Maybe it wasn’t the time to blurt out, “Let’s be a family.” But it was a chance to see if she was thinking the same way.

But nope. I blurted out a sex-drenched answer.

I could shake a fist at the sky. Sex and music are literally the two greatest things ever invented, but sex can kill brain cells faster than booze. Good thing music is reliable. I pop in my earbuds and play some Otis Redding until I reach Campbell’s building in Murray Hill.

When Campbell opens the door, he gives me a quick once-over. “And how was your night?” His question is full of hidden meaning.

“It was good.”

Biggest euphemism ever. It was one of the greatest nights of my life.

He peers behind him, and I hear Sam reading a Percy Jackson book to Ben. Campbell points to the hallway and steps outside, letting the door fall shut behind him.

“How’s Roxy?”

I consider lying, acting like I didn’t spend the night with her. But he knows we went out together. “She’s great. Completely, absolutely perfect for me.”

A smile seems to tug at the corner of his lips. “And?”

“And what?”

“And what happens next?”

I heave a sigh. “Hell if I know.”

“You have feelings for her though?”

“Yeah. I do. Big feelings.” There’s no point pretending with him. There is no brotherly ribbing right now, only talking.

He hums. “What are you going to do about that?”

“No clue. How’d you sort it all out with Mackenzie?”

He laughs lightly. “It wasn’t easy. Figuring out the kid situation took some time. But it’s doable, Miles.”

“Yeah?” I ask hopefully. Because I hope she wants the same things I do—to figure out how to mix her and me and all the fantastic baggage we both bring to the table.

He claps my shoulder. “Try talking it out. See where she’s at.”

“You think we can do that?” I ask, feeling a little lighter. Maybe I can fix this. Revisit the topic and see if she wants just more sex, or sex and more.

“How big are these feelings?”

“Scale of one to ten?”

“Sure.”

But before I can answer with fifty, I hear the door snap open. “Daddy! Why are you hiding from me?”

Ben throws his arms around me, and I scoop him up and give him a kiss on the forehead. “Isn’t it time to play hide and seek?”

His eyes light up. “I know a great place to hide in Campbell’s house. Under the sink. Don’t look there.”

We both laugh, and Campbell gives me a wave. “You’ll work it out. Love you, bro.”

“Love you too.”

Ben and I take off. “What would you say to meeting Roxy for a few minutes to check out her new apartment?” I ask as we reach the street.

“Will her cats be there?”

I shake my head. “Not yet.”

He shrugs. “That’s okay. I like Roxy. Even if she doesn’t have cats with her right now, I still like her.”

“So do I,” I say, hopeful that I can try to talk to her again.

He smacks his forehead. “I’m wrong, Daddy.”

“What are you wrong about?”

“I don’t like Roxy. I love Roxy.” He takes my hand and swings our arms together, but that hopeful feeling unspools, and inside my head, I hear the fresh new clang of warning bells.

Trouble is, I’m not sure why they’re sounding.

* * *

“And this will be where Alan terrorizes Gloria during the day and cuddles with her at night,” Roxy says to Ben, gesturing to the window that overlooks the bustling avenue below.

“Why does he terrorize her?” Ben asks.

Roxy shrugs. “Because he’s a cat. In fact, you’ll find that’s the answer for nearly everything a cat does.”

“Like the answer to why they chase mice?”

“And why they knock mugs off counters.”

“And why they sit on boxes?”

“And why they stare at things we can’t see. They do it because they’re cats.”

Ben laughs, clearly loving the way Roxy talks to him. “Can I give that as an answer next time my dad asks why I did something? Because I’m a boy?”

Roxy meets my gaze, a smile in her hazel eyes. “I think that’s pretty spot-on.” She squeezes his cheek. “Or you could say, ‘Because I’m six.’”

I love the way Roxy talks to him.

That’s part of the problem, and that’s why I’m mostly quiet as Roxy shows us more of her place. Even though the apartment is small, the tour is thorough. “And this obviously is the kitchen,” she says. “I’m sure I’ll do lots of ordering takeout and eating at odd hours in here because of the baby.”

I key in on her words and how she phrases things, mentally cataloging it all.

She gestures to the living room. “Call me crazy, but I’m picturing I’ll put a couch right there.”

“Crazy,” I say, forcing out a laugh even as I analyze those words too. I’ll put a couch right there.

Roxy turns and runs her hand through her hair, and I picture my hands in her hair twelve hours ago. I can’t look at her without thinking of my hands all over her. My hands traveled everywhere; they mapped nearly every inch of her skin. They itch to touch her. She’s as gorgeous now in a sundress as she was in her evening dress last night, and I want to slide in next to her, plant a kiss on her cheek, and tell her how beautiful she looks. I want to take the three of us out to lunch, hold her hand at the table, drape an arm around her when we go to the playground with Ben.

I’m standing here with my son, wanting to scoop Roxy into my arms for a kiss and tell her I want it all. But how the hell do I balance being Ben’s father and being head over heels for this woman who’s not interested in getting serious? She’s planning a new house, all on her own. Her actions say she wants just more sex, not sex and more.

“Can I see the bedrooms?” Ben asks.

“Of course,” Roxy answers, taking his hand and heading down the hallway, once again forming a tableau of what I can’t have. I follow behind, wishing the image in front of me could be a regular thing.

But with each second of this tour, her intentions become crisper.

Ben skips ahead and runs to the first doorway in the hall. “Ooh, will this be Sarah’s room?”

Roxy jerks her gaze to him. “Sarah?”

He pats her belly. “I decided her name is Sarah.” That’s all he says, then he pops into the baby’s room and says, “Yup, Sarah will love this.”

Roxy turns to me, her eyes wide, asking some kind of question.

My stomach twists, because I don’t know the answer. I don’t know what Ben is stating. And I definitely don’t know why he named the baby, except . . . because he’s six.

When he emerges, he points his thumb at the empty room then at the master bedroom. “But if that’s Sarah’s room, and that’s your room, where’s my room?”

Roxy opens her mouth to speak but says only, “Um.” She nibbles on her lip, passing the ball to me.

I don’t catch it though. It bounces then rolls off the court because I have nothing to contribute. My brain is tripping over its own feet. Roxy is living on her own, by herself, and I hate that, and I have no right to hate that, so I have nothing to say.

Ben shrugs and devises his own answer. “We can share a room for a little bit. Or maybe she can stay in your room, and I can have this room.”

I stare at Roxy, and she stares at me, her eyes shouting intervene, but I’ve no clue what to say. I don’t know how to phrase the truth. We’re not having that kind of relationship. I want to, I really fucking want to, but she doesn’t, and we can’t. And I’m sorry if that hurts you like it hurts me.

Roxy picks up the figurative ball from the sidelines. “I think this will probably be the baby’s room and that will be my room,” she says, and that “my” is a blade slicing my organs in two. “But what would you think about having a super-cool air mattress? Or wait. What if we shopped for a new couch, and that way any time you slept over, you could have the couch you chose?”

Hers, hers, hers. Everything here is hers. I knew that, but I didn’t feel it till now. I feel it, and it’s a cruel cut down my chest.

Ben smiles. “I guess that’ll work for now.”

For now.

But what happens later? When this unwinds? How long can we truly play the plus-one game? What if Roxy meets some guy at pre-school or the dog salon? She’s made her position clear, and her position doesn’t leave room for me to stupidly fall in love with her.

She’s heading into her new life as a single mom with her baby. Her tour of her apartment makes it clear—this place is for her and the baby, and that’s all.

* * *

After I drop Ben at swimming, I walk Roxy back to her place, awkwardness like thick smog between us. I stuff my hands in the pockets of my jeans.

“Ben seems pretty excited about the baby,” Roxy remarks.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Like father like son. He’s excited about the baby who’s not a fixed part of his life. He’s crazy for the woman who’s not a part of our family.

And that’s what the warning bells were signaling.

That’s what they were trying to tell me.

Ben is already falling in love with Roxy, and he’s going to be disappointed when this plus-one routine falls apart, and it will because sex games can’t last. If Roxy and I keep up our late-night escapades, we’re setting ourselves up for inevitable hurt. And Ben will be the collateral damage. God knows, I’ll barely be able to handle it when Roxy breaks my heart. If she breaks Ben’s heart, too, that will definitely be the end of mine.

I wince, bracing myself for what I know must be done. We round the corner near her building.

“Roxy?” Her name comes out as if I’m chewing on gravel. I don’t want to say this, I don’t want to give her up, but I can’t risk falling deeper in love with her.

“Yes?” she asks, her voice shaky.

“I think we should probably pull . . .” I stop and try to swallow. Finishing that sentence—pull back—is one of the hardest things to do.

She holds up a hand, doing the heavy lifting for me. “Pull back. It’s becoming too complicated. Too messy. I love that little guy, and he already thinks we’re together.”

Why can’t I tell her how I feel, like Campbell told me to? But memories of Diana leaving cruelly flicker before my eyes, coupled with the double whammy of Roxy’s own words.

I’m off the market.

Roxy is a woman who’s bold enough to tackle life on her own terms, to venture down a tough road solo. She’s also a woman who’s found a way around relationships because she’s only ever been disappointed by them.

I’m a man who hasn’t had a relationship in years because my kid is at the center of my world, and now I suddenly want one. I want the big one.

And it’s not on the table.

“We should be friends,” I say, trying again to voice words that taste vile.

“Plus-ones only, no benefits,” she supplies, giving me a smile I can’t read.

I nod, hating the thought of just friends. “We can do that, right?”

“Of course.” The words seem to choke her, but then she glances at the time, clearing her throat. “I should go. William is meeting me to review final paperwork for my new place. If I can get it over to Genevieve tonight, I can move in soon.”

She’s moving in. She’s moving on.

I tug her in for an embrace, breathing in her scent, wishing I could find a way to convince her. But ditching my solo career and rejoining the Heartbreakers was easier than telling Roxy I love her madly.

My brothers wanted me back.

Roxy, however, is content to go it alone.

I have to let her go.

I leave and hail a cab, looking away from the window when I see William strolling up to Roxy to clasp her in a hug.