❁ Junie❁

How can I have a temper when I come from such a milquetoast bloodline? I’ve never noticed how short my fuse gets until I unceremoniously dump Asher. Only once I’m driving home do I wonder why I was so pissed in the first place. It’s not as if I didn’t know he was lying days ago. Clearly, my anger wasn’t about his lies or having me followed.

No, what got my blood boiling was the thought of Asher hiding in his penthouse where I’m not allowed to go. Once again, he refused to break his rules for me. No matter how much I hope we’re making progress, Asher insists on pushing me away.

He won’t—or can’t—change. No matter what I need, he’ll always choose to remain hidden away in his tower. I can’t compete with years of ingrained crazy.

Maybe that’s why I end up in my mother’s apartment with my head in her lap, feeling sorry for myself while watching Bad Moms.

“You never let me play with your hair,” Pollyanna said when I first cuddled with her. Now she probably wishes I’d get off her lap. Instead, she says, “Relationships are complicated.”

“I wasn’t ready for it to be over, but my temper got the better of me.”

“It’s possible he might get the help he needs, and you’ll reunite one day.”

Like water and oil, Mom and I have never been close. However, I will give her credit for knowing the right thing to say when someone’s bummed.

Despite her words and my wish for another chance, I know in my heart nothing will change. If Asher and I hadn’t ended today, we’d hit a wall on our next date or the following one. He would stand me up again or change plans when they didn’t suit his mood. He’s unable to control his needs, and I can’t deny I’m not particularly well-equipped to have a serious relationship either. I’ve never dated a man for more than a few weeks, and those guys weren’t anywhere as persnickety as Asher Ferrer.

“I might be better off alone. Men and I don’t seem to successfully mix.”

“You have plenty of time to find someone. If you never do, you’ll always have Mallory.”

“And you.”

“And me.”

Smiling up at my mom, I think about how impossible romance would be in her situation. Even if her heart wanted someone besides my father, she’d need a man capable of living their life together behind the walls of this apartment. Never going anywhere or having friends over, he would choose to limit his experiences to love my mother.

Am I capable of doing the same for Asher? Hiding away in his penthouse where he controls everything doesn’t sound like a dream life to me.

Possibly, my temper did me a favor by ending things now before I fell any harder for the sexy son of a bitch.

‧:❉:‧ ♂ ♀ ‧:❉:‧

❁ Asher ❁

Junie’s voice wakes me from my drug-induced slumber. I hear her calling my name, but she’s too far away to follow. I struggle to open my eyes and focus on where Junie waits for me.

Except she isn’t here. I stumble out of my bedroom to find Egor sitting on the couch, one leg crossed over the other with a hardcover book popped against his knee.

“Was Junie here?” I ask, only upright with the help of the wall.

“Earlier today,” Egor says, standing up and walking toward me, “she dropped by, but you sent her away so you could rest.”

I vaguely remember her sounding angry, but her exact wording remains jumbled in my head.

“What happened exactly?” I stammer and nearly collapse on the couch.

Egor doesn’t want to answer me. My assistant refrains from sharing bad news. Clearly, Junie and I didn’t have a positive encounter.

“Did she come up here?” I ask when he says nothing.

“Of course not.”

“Did she and I speak on the phone?”

“Yes.”

“But I remember seeing her. Did I go down to her?”

“No, you were too exhausted. She stood in front of the camera downstairs while you spoke on the phone.”

I look into his dark eyes and sense the details he leaves out. “She was angry.”

“The P.I. called a few minutes before her arrival to explain how she’d confronted him at the Farmer’s Market.”

“I already knew she’d noticed him. Why did she come here?”

“To ask about the investigator.”

“She wanted to come upstairs,” I mumble, putting together fragments of the earlier conversation.

“Yes.”

“Did I say I’d call her later?”

Egor hands me a glass of water. “She probably wouldn’t want you to.”

“Did she end things? Is that what you’re tiptoeing around, Egor?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, I’ll fix this problem like I fixed the one last time.”

“She seemed rather adamant.”

“No doubt. Junie wants what she wants until I change her mind about what she wants. I did it before, and I’ll do it again.”

Egor takes the glass back and reaches out to help steady me. I push away his hand and walk to my room where I find shoes.

“You’re not in any condition to go out,” Egor says once I’m dressed and walking toward the door. “A storm is coming.”

“I’ll take a driver, but I need to see her before she gets any dumb ideas ingrained in her pretty head.”

Egor steps in front of the door to stop me. I can barely keep my eyes open, but I’m aware enough to realize my assistant is coddling me.

“Move or I’ll replace your position, Egor,” I demand without a hint of bullshit. “Anyone can be replaced.”

“If that’s true, why are you putting yourself at risk over this woman?”

“Fine. Anyone besides Junie can be replaced.”

I’ve hurt Egor’s feelings, but I refuse to be treated like his child rather than the man who signs his checks. Besides, he’s got an idea about Junie acting as a bad influence that needs to be nipped in the bud before he causes my love life more trouble than I do on my own.

‧:❉:‧ ♂ ♀ ‧:❉:‧

❁ Junie ❁

I’d rather puke than cry. Tears leave my eyes stinging and my head aching. Puking is usually a one and done situation, but crying can go on for a long time—day after day, week after week, or even for years like with my mom.

I don’t cry for more than ten minutes, but my head feels like it weighs a thousand pounds by the time I finish. Cuddled with my pillow on the couch, I stare at the TV and wonder how I got so hung up on a guy who’d jerked me around so thoroughly in such a short amount of time.

Though I ought to be relieved to say good riddance to Asher, I mostly wish I was capable of dealing with his mood swings. Instead, I can’t even deal with my mother’s. The second she heard thunder and began checking all the windows, I knew she didn’t want me around, and I wasn’t interested in watching her obsessive routines. I’d seen enough of them over the years, and a part of me still needs my mother to be strong even if I know she can’t.

In the exact right circumstances, Pollyanna Voss can play the confident mother. Nonetheless, as with today, those perfect conditions never last for very long.

Now alone in my apartment, I listen to the storm outside and think about the mountains. I haven’t gone hiking in years. Aren’t I too young to already be set in my ways? I live surrounded by natural beauty, but I spend most of my time in front of the TV. Just like I did as a kid on the weekends with my father. If couch potato-ism was a disease, it’d be hereditary and my family strongly afflicted.

My bleary eyes invite dozing, and I’m half asleep when I hear someone ringing at the outside door. Mallory is working a shift at a Minute Clinic this evening to make cash for our next trip. She’s like a machine when it comes to saving money while my machine skills involve lounging on the couch.

I drag my ass to the door, despite how much I want to ignore the bell. Who could even be visiting in this weather? Shuffling out of my apartment, I flinch at the snap of thunder outside. Rain pours down outside, masking whoever is at the outer door. Despite the misty gloom, I know the hunched over figure is Asher.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, standing away from the door to avoid getting wet. “I told you we were over.”

“Is that what you said?” he mumbles, and I struggle to hear him over the storm. “The entire thing is a blur in my mind. I’d taken sleeping pills before you arrived and I don’t exactly recall our conversation.”

“Well, that was the gist of it. You should go home.”

“Won’t you let me into the inner porch so I can get out of the rain?”

“Nope,” I say, crossing my arms protectively around my body. “That’s how it starts. You get in one door and then the next, and pretty soon I’ve agreed to let you jerk me around again.”

“It’s raining pretty hard out here.”

“Then you better hurry to your car and speed away to your palace in the sky, Ferrer.”

Asher rests his forehead against the metal door and exhales loudly enough to be heard over the storm.

“Ending things isn’t what I want, but I don’t know how to be with you. I’ve never had a relationship before where I spent more than a few hours with the woman. Even when I traveled to Japan with a girlfriend, we sat in different aisles.” Asher wipes his soaking black hair from his eyes and exhales loudly again. “The problem between us isn’t you. It’s all me, and I want to be the man you need, but I can’t. All I can do is change a little around the edges and hope it’s enough to make you happy.”

“Well, that’s all good and well, but you should leave.”

I say the words, but they lack conviction. Asher looks pitiful. His soaked hair hangs over his eyes, and he resembles a half-drowned puppy rather than a vexing bastard who wouldn’t let me step a toe in his home.

“I can’t leave. I told my driver to go.”

“Why would you go and do that?” I grumble and step closer. “Were you so certain you could sweet-talk your way into my place when I wasn’t able to do the same at yours?”

“I don’t remember your visit, but I know I can’t function without you, and I can’t function with you, and I’m here, and I can’t leave.”

“Call a taxi.”

“Taxis are filthy, so no.”

I stand an inch from him with only the door separating us. “You look tired. Oh, and wet.”

Asher gives me a little exhausted smile, and I relent under the pressure of having him here, saying the right things about wanting me, and looking sexy as hell wet. Opening the door for him, I’m not certain where we go from this moment on, but my throbbing headache and red eyes remind me how I wasn’t ready for things to end anyway.