67

Lucy
Finally, life seems to be getting itself into order. True to his word, JP was waiting outside the clinic for me last Sunday. Since then, I’ve had two more mind-blowing nights with him at his penthouse apartment, survived two rounds of hypnotherapy, and those weird dreams about demon dog appear to be subsiding.
Date number one: Rewind to last Sunday. JP swoops me up post-therapy session-still no memories-then we went back to his place for a swim. The pool was more I seem to have misplaced my yacht here rather than Oh look, I have a pool. Then we went up to his penthouse and chilled out with a movie and takeout. Not exactly the fantasy date with a billionaire I imagined, but honestly, I loved it. Then he showed me his “downward dog” which involved me on all fours, so that was a nice surprise.
Date Two this week was like something you’d do after dating for months-basic but amazing. We strolled around Central Park, popped into my favorite comic shop, and grabbed hot dogs from a street cart. Then back to his for an advanced yoga session, namaste.
He wore a baseball cap out so people wouldn’t recognize him, which I found stupidly hot. When he crept up behind me while I was reading a latest edition comic and gave me a gentle spoon and kissed my shoulder, it was the most romantic moment of my life, to date, on earth.
I know it’s not equal-I’m going to his place all the time-but who’s the winner there? If I brought him back to my apartment, I’d be scared of what surprises Spider might leave in the bathroom.
Work’s been good too-we’ve made good progress on Project Tangra and I’ve managed to survive meetings with JP without screaming I’M FUCKING THE BOSS.
It’s a beautiful Saturday morning in New York and Spider is moving out today, so I get my living space back until the apartment sale goes through. Freedom at last.
I’ve been scrolling through house porn on the internet all morning, but this time, I’ll be vigorous in my checks.
I’m diving headfirst into what I like to call “therapy cleaning.” There’s something strangely calming about scrubbing away your problems, one dirty dish at a time.
Spider wanders into the kitchen area with a backpack and a guitar.
“Hey,” I greet him, guilt seeping into my voice. I drop the sponge in the sink. “Sorry about this. Where will you go?”
“Nah, don’t worry, it’s for the best. I actually found some digs on Fifth Avenue. For free, no less.” He grins, stuffing the last of his belongings into his bag.
I stare at him, mouth hanging open. “Seriously?”
“Some cool squatters are living there.”
I shake my head. Wow. Well, to each their own. “Is that all you have?” I ask, nodding to his pitifully scant backpack.
He shrugs. “I travel light.”
“Well, good luck then,” I say. “Sure I’ll see you around.”
We clasp each other in the world’s most awkward hug, then he heads for the door, slinging his guitar over his shoulder. The door clicks shut behind him and he’s gone. Just like that. My toilet-clogging saucepan-abusing roommate is a past memory.
I let out the breath I’ve been holding since Spider moved in. No more overhearing his late-night rendezvous through the walls. No more strange smells wafting from the bathroom. No more digging his hardened food out of my Le Creuset. Just sweet freedom.
I flop onto the couch, enjoying the quiet, when my phone buzzes.
“Lucy,” JP’s husky baritone drawls, doing unspeakable things to my insides. “I have a surprise for you.”
Instinctively, I pull my knees up to my chest, hugging them.
“A surprise?” I reply, feigning nonchalance while my insides twist into pretzels of curiosity and lust.
His chuckle is low and warm. “How do you feel about comic conventions?”
A startled laugh escapes me. “You’re joking!”
Another chuckle, this one raising goose bumps on my skin. “We’re heading to a comic convention in Boston. I got us tickets.”
My mouth opens and closes like a goldfish. The word No stumbles out, even though I mean yes.
JP Wolfe, hot billionaire enigma, is taking me to a comic convention? “I… I hadn’t pegged you as a comic enthusiast.”
“I’m not. But you are. And I might even let you go all Miss Nova on me.”
A grin spreads across my face. “Funny you should say that. I found a costume among my things from before I lost my memory, and it’s quite something.”
“That’s a sight reserved for my eyes only, then,” he shoots back, his tone dipping lower, darker, evoking images of him peeling that costume off me inch by inch.
“It’s next week, right?”
“That’s right. I can fly us there and back in a day, or we can stay overnight, whatever you prefer.”
I suck in a breath. “I can’t believe you’re willing to go. Either way works for me.”
“Then it’s a date,” he rumbles. “We’ll make a night of it in Boston.”
“Thank you so much,” I say, feeling a lump forming in my throat. “This is awesome. Those tickets sell out really quickly. I haven’t been to that one in years.”
He chuckles, a low sound that warms me. “Well, you can repay me by coming upstate. I want to show you the site for the new wellness center, near Bear Mountain. We can stay at my place.”
“I’d love that,” I breathe, butterflies taking flight in my core. “So what are you up to tonight?” I ask. “If you’re at a loose end, we could hang out. You know, only if you’re not swamped with CEO-y stuff.”
“I have some admin to attend to.”
Disappointment sinks into me. “Oh, okay, no worries.”
There’s a brief pause before he speaks again. “Can I see you tomorrow night?”
My thighs clench involuntarily. “Yeah, tomorrow’s good.”
Lady-wank it is tonight, then.
“But I’ll miss you tonight,” he drawls in a deep voice. If the man ever goes bankrupt again, he’ll make his billions back selling steamy audiobooks.
“You will?” I ask, my voice hitching.
“You have no idea. I gotta go, Lucy. See you.”
My teeth catch my lower lip as a mixture of excitement and apprehension swirls inside me. I’ve been careful not to label anything between us, especially after our conversation where he hinted at being less than perfect in relationships. But this is skirting perilously close to boyfriend territory.

I grab my keys and head to Central Park to meet Priya, feeling like I might spontaneously combust if I don’t unload onto someone soon.
“OK,” I say as we meander through the park. “I have a confession, but you have to swear on your life not to breathe a word of this to Libby.”
She looks curious. “Spit it out.”
I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, stalling. “I may have started seeing someone.”
“What?” Priya exclaims loudly, clapping a hand over her mouth as a jogger shoots us a look. She grabs my arm. “Who?”
I lean in close like we’re making some sketchy back-alley deal and whisper, “JP Wolfe.”
She stares at me. The look on her face is hilarious and insulting all at once.
“JP fucking Wolfe?!” she yells. “Are you kidding me?”