“It’s none of my business,” I answer.
“The same reason I can’t let you love me anymore.”
I don’t love you anymore, is stuck in my fucking throat and won’t come out.
“Patrick, please look at me. This is important. And it’s hard to talk about, so just let me.”
I look over my shoulder, seeing she’s wearing a pair of my socks, pulled up to her knees, and a BU hoodie that she must have grabbed from my closet. “I’m listening.”
“My mom died at thirty-five of breast cancer. I carry the gene. I was there because, in a month, I’m having them removed.”
“Do you have cancer?”
She shakes her head. “This way, I better my chances of keeping it that way.”
“Your body, your choice. But if you were mine, I wouldn’t let you do that until you were done having kids or a doctor said you actually had cancer.”
“I’m not having kids.”
“I’m sorry you feel like that’s your only choice.” I walk across the floor and set my mug on the counter. “It was nice to see you, Savvy—”
“Sutton,” she corrects me.
“Yeah, Sutton.”
* * *
Did I do the right thing by walking out of there after she dropped the bomb? Possibly not. And not because it was rude, but because, apparently, Savannah has a key to my place and is on her way up. And, by apparently, I mean, she absolutely took both the spare key and the master key to the entire building.
When George calls and asks me if I’d like him to call the authorities, she yells in the background, “I may not have known how to swing a frying pan at five, but I do now. Tell Mr. Steel that bit of info.”
“We don’t need a scene. I’ll deal with it.”
As soon as the elevator opens, she stomps in. “You bought my shop?”
I don’t look up from my computer. I don’t want to see what she’s wearing, or if her hair is up or down, or if she’s braless. “I’m really not sure what you’re talking about. I own a couple properties in Boston.”
“So, you’re saying you didn’t buy the cute, little ceramic shop across the road and a few blocks down?”
“I’m neither confirming nor denying.”
She walks over to the coffee pot, grabs a mug from above it, pours herself a cup, and then walks over and sits on my couch. “You have shitty taste in furniture. This thing is uncomfortable.”
“Then, by all means, don’t sit on it.”
She finishes her cup in silence, then gets up, walks over to the sink, and sets it in. Then she walks past me, down the hall, and I hear a door open.
Seconds later, I hear her slamming drawers and decide it’s best to go make sure she doesn’t destroy anything.
When I step into the office, she looks up. “Where are the keys to my shop?”
I lean against the door frame.
“Patrick Steel, I’m serious.”
“You’ve taken keys to my building without permission; do you really think I’d leave keys lying around again?”
“You’re doing this because you want me here.”
“And why again did you come to Boston?”
She crosses her arms. Definitely braless.
“You said—”
“I was drunk.”
“And I’m done playing games,” I seethe.
“So, sell me the building.”
“Tell me again why you came to Boston.”
She sits down in my chair and spins in a circle. “You told me it was nice.”
“And …?”
“And”—she stops spinning—“I agree. It’s nice. Which is why I was going to buy a shop and settle here.”
“And …?”
“And what do you want me to say? I could never go back to Jersey? I could never face you directly after leaving you like I did? That coming here made me feel close to you? That I wish you knew that you were not the only one whose heart broke that day? That I wish I didn’t have this gene that gives me a greater chance of getting cancer and dying when I’m young so I never can be normal? I can never give you what you want?”
“Fuck what I want. What do you want?”
“All that. I want all that. Are you happy now?”
“Not that you think you can’t have a good life, no. Not that you think I didn’t love you enough to not give a shit if you didn’t have tits, no. If you remember correctly, I was pretty fond of your pussy, too.”
She scowls.
“I want you to make an appointment with your doctor, and I want to go with you.”
“Why?”
“Because, Savvy—”
“Sutton. Savvy’s dead. She died two lifetimes ago.”
“Fine, because, Sutton, it appears to me that you settle nicely into shit unless I’m not holding your fucking hand, so make the appointment.”
“I’m not having babies with you.”
“If the doctor says it’s okay, then you will, and we won’t be waiting. I’ll be pumping my cum into your pussy three times a day.”
It’s not as if I didn’t expect her to walk out after that. I did.
What I didn’t expect was a text immediately after.
3:01 p.m. – How about you do you, and I’ll do me?
3:01 p.m. – Perfect, and when we’re not doing ourselves, then we can do each other.
3:02 p.m. – OMG! When will you stop objectifying women?
3:03 p.m. – We both know how far past objectification this has gone.
And I certainly didn’t expect her to come back through the door.
“Fine, okay, you want to know what hurts the most? Knowing you can do so much better. You could be loved by someone who isn’t all broken. I mean, most of the time, that’s how I feel. But not when you send texts like that and not when you buy the one thing that I was really looking forward to.”
“Shut up, Sutton.” I walk toward her. “Just shut the fuck up.” I grab the back of her head and drop my lips on hers. Then I wrap an arm around her waist, lift her up, and carry her toward my bedroom. Against her lips, I tell her what’s up.
“You’re done running. I don’t care
