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“Well, that’s the great thing about older rich men like him and Mr. Vaughn. They aren’t looking for long term because they don’t need it. It’s like Leo DiCaprio; he can have a new girl any night of the week so why settle down?”
“Sounds kind of icky actually.” I scrunch up my face, thinking about Weston turning around and doing this to the next younger woman who crosses his path.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean that Mr. Vaughn is doing that. I’m just saying in general. I mean, neither of us saw him being a man-whore in any of the paparazzi photos we found online. Seems like he’s actually kept a low profile since his wife passed away.”
My stomach churns a little thinking about the headline I saw of him with the mystery blonde. I guess she isn’t a mystery anymore since he told me who she was. What I didn’t mention to him was that the paper stated that they were seen again, so clearly this isn’t the first time they’ve gone out… business related or not.
“The question is, do you want anything to happen?”
“I do but I’m not sure it’s a good idea. Actually, I know it’s not. I’m pretty sure the school would not appreciate me sleeping with one of my students’ parents.”
“How would they even know?” I give her a look and she quickly realizes how. “Paparazzi… right. You know, even if you go with him as only a paid babysitter and nothing happens between you, people will assume it did anyway if pictures of you on his yacht are released.”
“Okay, it’s official, I’m not going.” I toss my napkin on the table. “Guess I can return the swimsuits then.”
“Wait, hold up. Is there potential for this to be something more? The school can’t tell you to not fall in love with a single parent who is available and pursuing you. Plus, you won’t be Daisy’s teacher forever. If you guys could keep it low-key for the rest of the school year, it’s worth it.”
“He just kissed me, Xana; he didn’t propose. Like you said, I think he’s just looking to get laid. Besides, I’m not so sure I’m ready to jump back into something yet.”
She gives me a look of pity. “I thought you were ready to move on and explore things with other people?”
“Explore, yes, but jumping into another relationship right away ju?—”
“Right away? Daph, it’s been two years.”
I fiddle with my fork, my shoulders dropping as I exhale. “I felt something.”
“What do you mean?”
“In the way he kissed me, held me, looked at me. It made me feel—I’ve never felt that way before and it scared me.”
“Is it fear or guilt?”
“Both. I think I feel bad that I’m interested in someone else. That I can’t help but compare how he makes me feel to how Carson made me feel. What I had with Carson was completely different. It was emotional, but I’d be lying to myself if I said that Carson could ignite this passion and fire inside me with a single touch or kiss like Weston has. It’s all so new. Do you have that with Ryan?”
“Yeah.” She nods. “With Ryan, it’s exactly like what you’re describing but it’s also emotional. In fact, I think that’s what makes it so fiery and exciting, knowing we connect on all levels. I’m sorry you didn’t have that with Carson; I didn’t know that.”
I give her a half smile. “It’s not like our sex life was bad. I loved it. It’s like not realizing what you’re missing because you don’t know what you don’t know. I wouldn’t say that was one of strong points. I would have liked to explore that side of myself more with him but when I would try, it was usually shut down.”
“Is that why you loved those romance novels?” She laughs and it makes me laugh.
“Yeah, actually.”
“Hey.” She reaches out and takes both my hands in hers. “Don’t worry about what me or anyone else thinks when you’re deciding about this trip. If you want to go, have a fling for two or three days, and never speak of it again, then fine. Or maybe you are falling and maybe there is the potential to have the fire with the emotions. Just listen to your heart, babe.”
I think about Xana’s words the rest of the weekend and all through next week. I bounce back and forth between being convinced I’m going to absolutely not going.
I lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling as I hum a song to myself. I haven’t seen or heard from Weston since the night he kissed me in my kitchen. Tomorrow is Friday and we not only get it off, but also Monday for the holiday. I roll over and look at the clock; it’s just after ten and I can’t fall asleep. I flip the covers off and walk to the living room, grabbing my Kindle and flipping open the latest romance novel I’ve been reading.
I don’t realize how long I’ve been reading until my head lulls forward, my eyes closing. I jolt awake, rubbing my eyes and squinting to see the time on the microwave. It’s almost one now. I yawn, shutting my Kindle down and trudging back to my bedroom. I grab my phone, about to silence my alarm for tomorrow since I’m off work when I see a text from Weston.
Weston: In case you change your mind. Here are the departure details for my private jet tomorrow. And don’t forget… doors close FIFTEEN minutes before departure. ;)
I stare at the text with the directions to the private terminal his plane is leaving out of and the time it departs. I reread it three times, his comment about the departure time making me laugh, something that before would have made me roll my eyes. Now, I can hear the playful mocking tone of his voice in my head.
I look over at the bag that’s still sitting in the corner of my room with the dress and swimsuits I purchased this past weekend. I sit on the edge of my bed, adrenaline coursing through me, making me way too wired to sleep now. I bounce my leg up and down, staring at the bag as if it’s going to tell me what to do.
“Screw it.” I stand up and walk to my closet, pulling out my suitcase from the back where it’s been buried since I moved into this apartment. I pull open drawers, grabbing underwear and bras, shorts, shirts, and shoes. I tell myself not to think, just pack.
