Page 61 of No Headlines Please

Except it wasn't my penthouse.

Or my home.

And this wasn't my only problem.

What would Delaney say when I told her the truth?

Not just about the place. About all of it.

Fuck.

The messed up thing was, now that I'd gotten to know her, I had a strong suspicion that I could've been straight with her from the start, and she would've rolled with it just fine.

But I hadn't. And fixing it now wouldn't be half as easy.

I'd seen this dynamic at the poker tables, where the trouble wasn't the first bad bet. It was how easy it became to justify the next one. By the time a guy realized he was screwed, he was already in too deep to back out cleanly.

Until now, I could never relate.

"So?" Delaney said. "Am I right? About poker, I mean?"

She was, actually. I dragged my attention back to the games. "Maybe, except poker's not on the table."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. You don't need a box of anything to play poker. You just need cards and quarters, right?"

Quarters? In my whole life, I'd never seen a pot with stakes so low. "You play for coins?"

"Or poker chips. I mean…if you don't want to lose actual money."

"Who says you'd lose?"

She laughed. "Against you, I definitely would."

She was right. All modesty aside, I was one hell of a poker player. Delaney wouldn't stand a chance. She was an open book, ripe for the reading.

I liked it.

I liked her.

And right now, she looked truly relaxed for the first time since I'd met her. It was nice. And the thought of ruining it by telling her the truth filled me with an obscene amount of dread.

When I made no reply, she asked, "So you admit it?"

In that moment, I wanted to admit everything. Why I was here. What I was doing. Who I was. And anything else she deserved to know.

Yeah, right.

And then what?

Watch her close up shop and leave upset?

She had no money. Or working credit card. Hell, even her car was inaccessible. If she bolted now, what would happen?

Where would she go?

What would she do?

All my life, I'd had a real knack for thinking five steps ahead. Now, no matter how I sliced it, this wouldn't end well – not if I just laid everything out there with zero warning.