“You know what? I’m going to keep you as my agent. You know why? Because I fucking give a damn about you. I don’t know why I do after all this, but I do. So I’m going to let you keep me on as a client so your dream of being the top agent in the city can come true.
“And when you reach the top, you’re going to realize it wasn’t half as great as you thought it was going to be. You’re going to show me every goddamn apartment in all of Manhattan. You’re going to have to see me every single week. And I’m going to serve as a constant reminder of what might have been. What you walked away from. The only guy who ever knew the real you and who loved you in spite of the fucked up flaws you try so damn hard to hide.”
Addison constantly projected an image to the outside world. The shoes she wore. The bags she carried. The way she held her head up high and flashed her million-dollar smile no matter how empty she felt inside. When she was with me, stripped and naked and vulnerable, I saw the real her. The one with insecurities and issues, just like everyone else. The one with a past she tried her hardest to escape. And I loved her in spite of it all.
Perfection bored me. Flawlessness was shallow. I loved the real Addison, the woman she was on the inside. The way she looked with no makeup and messy hair. The way she slinked around when she was relaxed. Her authentic self filled me with a newfound realization that maybe not everyone in this world was an asshole. Authenticity wasn’t dead, after all.
I hated texting because it made me feel so disconnected from the world. It was funny how such a simple technological advance could cause such intense feelings of loneliness, but I couldn’t help the way I felt. Addison restored the interpersonal human connection I’d been missing all those years, filling the gaping hole I once thought could be fixed by a stupid rule.
“What if I decide to release you as a client?” she asked.
“You won’t,” I sneered. “You won’t because you’re too driven. You want that top spot, and you’re going to do whatever it takes to get it, even if it means dying a little bit inside every time you see me.”
“So, you’re punishing me?” She wiped her tears once more. “That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?”
The little life she’d worked so hard to perfect and keep in control was quickly burning to the ground. She wasn’t in control of a damn thing anymore. I almost felt sorry for her.
“Leave,” I seethed. “Now.”
* * *
A week passed, and then another, and while I may have calmed down a bit, the wound was still fresh and gaping, oozing with every step I took around the city that could only be described as ours.
The streets we’d walked together. The coffee shops and boutiques we’d stopped into on lazy Sundays. Central Park. Every square inch of my apartment her naked little ass had touched. The favorite sweater of mine she’d climb into when the nights got too cold. Her side of the bed. My skin. My hair. She was in everything I touched, making me lovesick with every breath I took.
I burned my sheets in a metal bucket on the roof of my building. It was a drastic move. I thought it’d make me feel better or it’d be symbolic, or some shit like that. It only fueled the fire raging deep in my soul.
I checked my phone on my walk home from the office. A missed call from Lainey McQuinn, a girl I used to casually date off and on the year before. My hurt ran deep, and I was only a man.
“Lainey,” I said as I returned her call, pleasantly surprised at the fact that she remembered my no texting rule. I forced pleasantness into my voice, shoving the dark thoughts and crippling pain into the back of my mind. “Haven’t heard from you in a while. What’s going on?”
“Hey, Wilder baby,” she cooed in her thick, Brooklyn accent. Lainey was a modern-day sexpot. Or at least she was last time I saw her with her shapely runner’s legs up to her eyeballs and fiery red hair that contrasted against flawless, milky white skin. She was always more than happy to be on standby during those lonely nights post-Nikki. “I went to a dinner party at Graze Central last night. Reminded me of that time, um, we went into the bathroom… and…”
“I remember,” I said, mentally replaying a bathroom quickie we’d had in the middle of a boring group dinner.
“Was just thinkin’ about you, was all,” she said. I knew damn well what she meant. “I think about you from time to time, you know. Usually when I’m bored… at night… in my bed…”
“You home?” I didn’t need to read between the lines any longer. She wanted to fuck, and I wanted to get Addison out of my system.
“Yeah, why?”
“I’m coming over.”
* * *
“Hey, stranger.” Lainey leaned against her open door, resting her head against the wood as a sultry grin spread across her lips. Her tongue traced her upper lip the second our eyes met. “Been a long time. Come in.”
She stepped aside, her low cut top revealing the subtle bounce of her cleavage with each movement. Tight jeans hugged her long legs and round ass, and blazing curls framed her face. Eyes like two vivid emeralds twinkled against the late afternoon sun as she failed to contain her excitement.
“Nice to see you,” she said, shutting the door behind me. “Hadn’t heard from you in a while. Didn’t know if you finally met a nice girl and settled down, or somethin’.”
I took a seat on her sofa, the one I’d fucked her on a few times years back. I thought seeing her would ignite the part of me who used sex as an escape, but all I saw was Addison.