“Great idea. Guys love that.”
I turned away and flopped back onto the couch, careful not to spill my wine. What if he didn’t call me? I was starting to think that was a real option, but I had no clue how I’d react. I knew he was interested in me, or at least it seemed like he was. I couldn’t imagine he would break ties because he didn’t want to see me anymore. If he were trying to protect me, I’d have to show him that I could handle myself.
Amy joined me on the couch, and turned the TV on. She flipped through some channels before stopping on the reality TV show about female wrestlers. It was starting to become our go-to trashy option.
“Why do we fall for complicated men?” she said softly.
I snuggled up against her. It suddenly felt exactly like college. There we were, sitting on the couch together drinking wine and watching bad TV while talking about boys. The nostalgia of the moment hit me hard, even though we were only a year out of school.
“They’re always the ones worth trying for,” I said. I realized how much I meant it, too. I had been with my fair share of nice, normal guys over the years, but it wasn’t until Rex that I really felt like fighting for something.
“I wish relationships could be free and easy all the time,” she said.
“Me too, kiddo. Unfortunately, you decided to fall in love with a reclusive billionaire.”
She grinned. “I guess it’s not all that bad.”
“Not at all. Meanwhile, my ex-druggie whatever-he-is won’t call me, maybe because he’s been beaten to death somewhere, or maybe because he just doesn’t want to see me anymore.”
She wrapped her arm around me, concern etched in her face. “It’s going to be okay, Darce, I promise. He’ll call.”
“Yeah, maybe he will.”
“And if he doesn’t, I’ll use Shane’s money to hunt him down.”
I laughed. “I’m sure that’s exactly what Shane wants to use his money for, hunting down his brother’s old crime partner or whatever they were.”
“Oh, he won’t even notice a few thousand missing.”
“Probably not. Must be rough.”
She laughed. “You know it isn’t about the money, right?”
“Seriously, what is it about?” I looked up at her, wondering.
She was quiet for a moment.
“It’s about him, who he is,” she said. “It’s about the way he walks into a room and makes me feel. It’s the, I don’t know, the energy he puts out. It’s confident and strong, but there’s so much more to him. He gets me, he laughs at my jokes, and he makes me feel special. It’s everything about him. If he were poor, I would still love him.”
I understood what she was saying. Part of that was how I felt about Rex, but I couldn’t be in love with him, not yet. Still, the way Rex walked into a room, his confidence and his poise, the way my body felt beneath his, everything about him made me want more. I was used to being denied things and having to work hard for what I wanted, and I was used to feeling shame and fear. Rex took those feelings away from me. During our brief time together, I never once thought about my father rotting away in jail, or my mother working hard for scraps. I never wondered if she was really a psychic or not, because I was too busy wondering how Rex could read my body like a map. I understood what Amy was saying because Rex took a lot of my pain away.
“I want to feel like that,” I said.
She smiled and fake punched my arm. “You will, don’t worry.”
We lapsed into silence, but the seed of something began to form itself in my mind. It wasn’t exactly a plan, or at least it wasn’t a plan yet, but it was an idea. I had to see him again, or at least I had to get closure from him. I wasn’t the crazy type, but something about him was too powerfully magnetic for me to ignore. As we sat in silence and watched the wrestling girls cry and beat each other up, I imagined Rex somewhere out in the city, fighting for his life.
Chapter Twelve
Later that night, after Amy left, I took out my phone and typed a message. Haven’t heard from you in a few days, I would love to see you again. I stood around, slightly drunk on wine, debating whether or not I should send it for maybe twenty minutes. I agonized over the wording, and worried that it might sound too formal. I even considered adding some emoji. I hated that I was suddenly the indecisive type, worrying over what a boy would think, but I couldn’t help it. I was deep into something I had no power over. It swept me through and passed what felt normal, into another place entirely. In the end, I braced myself and hit send.