“I’m not good enough for her.”
“That’s fucking ridiculous,” he scoffs.
“Is it?” I reply. “I’ve thought long and hard about this, and the reality is, Elliot-and you and I both know this is true-I can’t hold a relationship for even a week. I get bored. I have a wandering eye. I’ve never been able to take something to the next level.” I try to articulate myself better. “I’m just not built to be with one woman. I don’t want anyone depending on me.”
“Because you’ve never been in love before,” he snaps.
What?
My face falls.
“You’re scared.”
“I am not fucking scared,” I fire back.
“Bullshit. You’ve fallen in love with this girl, and you’re fucking shit scared.”
“I am not in love with her,” I fume. “I couldn’t be. We don’t even sleep together.”
I drain my other margarita.
“And yet . . .” He holds his hand out toward me. “Look at you.”
I drag my hand down my face in disgust.
“Look, I know that you have always said to me that when it’s time to get married, you will pick someone and just do it. But let me tell you a secret, little brother . . . it doesn’t happen like that. It isn’t a conscious decision that you make. One day a woman will weave her way so deep under your skin that you will have no choice but to follow your heart.”
I stare at him, my mind a clusterfuck of confusion. “I can’t be divorced, Elliot.”
His face falls. “Why would you even say that?”
“Because I can’t.” Anxiety tightens in my chest. “I would rather be dead than be divorced. A failed marriage is something that I couldn’t forgive myself for. If I can’t do it right, I don’t want to do it at all.”
“That’s ridiculous.” He screws up his face. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
The waiter puts another four margaritas down in front of us.
“Thanks.” Elliot nods. We fall silent, both lost in our own thoughts.
“What do you think is going to happen?” he asks. “If you pursue this, what do you think is going to happen?”
“I know what’s going to happen.”
“What?”
“I’ll fuck up . . . and she’ll leave me. I’ll be brokenhearted and see my kids every second weekend. They were her words, not mine.”
“But . . .”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I snap. “I’m not going there with Hayden. She was the dream that I can’t have. I’m coming back to London. My backpacking days are over. Trust me, she’s better off without me.”
“You’re a fucking idiot,” he snaps.
I drain another glass and slam it on the table. I feel myself get fuzzy. “Less talking.” I hold my hand up for another round. “More drinking.”
Four hours later Elliot and I stumble out of the bar and roll into the back of our waiting car.
“I’m margarooted,” Elliot slurs to our driver.
I laugh hard. “That’s true, he is.” We carry on laughing in the back seat, and finally the car pulls to a halt outside Elliot’s apartment.
He opens the door, and I put my foot on his behind and kick him out of the car. He stumbles onto the sidewalk, and I laugh. “Drive,” I tell the driver.
We drive off, and ten minutes later we pull up in front of my building. I get out and stumble inside, and as I walk through the foyer, the concierge smiles. “Good evening, Mr. Miles.”
“Hello.” I smile.
“Your guests are waiting in the bar, sir.”
“Huh?”
He gestures to the private lounge area, and I walk in to see Heidi and Nicki waiting. Their eyes light up when they see me, and I stop on the spot.
They both rush me and slide in and put their arms around me. Heidi leans up onto her toes and kisses my neck. “We’ve missed you, darling.”
I look between the two beautiful women, and my cock tingles.
It’s been a long time.
“Shall we take this upstairs?” She smiles darkly.
My eyes drop to her lips. “Yes, we shall.”