Tryst

I nod, fully accepting his advice. I need to drop Ransom for good. I need to cut him loose. I’ll never give my marriage a fair try with him here.

In a move that surprises us both, I go to wrap my arms around Justice in a warm embrace. He stiffens for at least five seconds before he exhales and begrudgingly hugs me back.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, meaning it. To him, to Tucker, hell, even to Ransom.

“I know. And you’re going to be sorry for a very long time. But not forever. Remember, I’ve fixed worse.”

I leave his home and do exactly what he says. I don’t pass Go. I don’t collect $200. I go straight to my husband. When I reach the door that says Reflection, I find that he isn’t there. Normally it wouldn’t surprise me—it’s still early and the compound is huge—but every fear I’ve ever harbored comes bubbling to the surface. What if he’s talking to Ransom right now? What if they’re fighting? Or what if Tucker decided to do exactly what I have been doing to him? What if he’s screwing another woman right now?

I make a mad dash for the spa, sweeping the area for any signs of my husband. The lower private level doesn’t open until after noon, so I don’t have to worry about him going for a romp in there, thank God. I check the instruction room, the theater, even the library that I never even knew existed. As I leave, I hear the sounds of piano close by, originating from an area I’ve never seen before. It’s open like a ballroom but much smaller. And it’s unfurnished, save for a single baby grand piano in the middle of the room, being played by none other than Ransom Reed.

He’s freshly showered, dressed in his signature frayed jeans and white V neck tee. He almost looks like the Ransom I’d seen on TV. The Ransom I was secretly infatuated with. And now that I know him, in every way that a woman can know a man, I feel more intimidated by him than I ever have before.

He looks at me through hazy eyes and smiles. There’s something in that smile that alarms me, something familiar that I just can’t put my finger on. It’s enough to draw me closer to try to figure it out.

I don’t say anything at first. Just sit beside him and listen to him play. I know the music, but I can’t remember the name. It’s not until he starts to sing that I understand—that I get it. The song. Him. Us. Why we were destined to be, yet doomed to coexist.

People like me and Ransom Reed, and even Justice, were always meant to be a little wrong. Without us, those perpetually good, righteous souls would have no one to save. They would have no purpose. Ally would have never met Justice and showed him what it was like to be loved and accepted, despite his background. Tucker would have never found me, and taught me how to live again, and accept love. And Ransom . . . see, that’s the problem. He thinks I’m his person. He thinks I’m the one who’s supposed to fix him. When we both know that two wrongs don’t make a right.

He flows into the chorus of “A Song For You” by Do

When the song ends, we sit there for a while, savoring the silence. We both have so much to say—how can we not?—but no one’s ready to take that step.

After several minutes, I suck in a breath, I tell him what I should have told him a long time ago. What I should have said the very first night we met. “I can’t do this, Ransom.”

He smiles but his eyes stay fixed on the keys. “We’re not doing anything right now.”

“You know what I mean. I can’t . . . be with you anymore. And I can’t represent you. I’m sorry. It’s highly unethical of me, and it could damage both our reputations. Not to mention, I’m married and I love my husband. I need to do this for all of us. And you and I having any type of interaction just isn’t healthy.”

“Healthy,” he snorts. “How do you know what’s healthy for me, huh? Maybe it’s you that I need to make me better.”

I turn to him and frown. “No, Ransom. I’m not. This isn’t right. We’re hurting him when we both know he doesn’t deserve it.”

“What do you know about what he deserves?” he sneers, his voice suddenly icy cold. “He had it all, yet he wanted more. What makes you think he’s hurting? What about me? What about my pain?”

I start to reach out to comfort him, his vulnerability catching me off guard, but I stop myself before I make contact, hoping to soothe him with my words instead. “I’m sorry we dragged you into all this. I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I didn’t mean to . . . to . . .”

“To fall in love with me?” He looks at me then, his eyes red-rimmed and glassy.

“I never said that, Ransom.”

“But you are in love with me, aren’t you?”

I shake my head. “I love my husband. I want to make things work with him.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Ransom . . .” I stand up then, realizing what a mistake it was to try to talk to him. “Tucker is a good man, and a good husband. I need to be with him.”

In a flash of red rage, Ransom pounds against the keys, creating a disjointed song of fury and pain. “Fuck him! What kind of husband has another man fuck his wife? Huh? What kind of man would manipulate someone’s weakness for his own agenda?” he yells, spewing contempt from his lips.

Startled, I take a step back, putting myself at a safe distance just in case he decides to lunge at me. Hours ago, I relished his violence. Now, it terrifies me in all the wrong ways.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I try to say in a level voice.

“He’s not what you think he is, Heidi. He’s not as good as you think he is.”

“Shut up, Ransom. Don’t you dare act like you know the first thing about my husband and my marriage,” I retort. “You’re a kid. You have no clue what marriage entails. It’s not easy; it’s hard work. But when two people love each other, they do whatever it takes.”

“Right. Sure,” he snorts. “So I guess that’s what you were doing with me this morning. Putting in some of that hard work. Tell me, was it easy to take my dick deep inside your tight, little ass? Or was that just you, doing whatever it takes? Because, baby, you sure can take a lot.”

I’m trembling with rage, completely shocked and appalled that he would say that to me. What was I thinking? Was I really even considering being with Ransom—this punk kid? How could I be so stupid?

“Fuck you,” I spew. “And pack your shit. You’re on the next flight back to Manhattan.”

“No can do, sweetheart. Didn’t you hear? We’ve got a date—you, me, and the good doctor. Unless you’d like me to explain your sudden change of heart. Or maybe he’ll be able to see the evidence for himself. I don’t know if my scratches will heal by tomorrow night. Maybe I should go explain to him how his wife likes to draw blood.”

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you go near him, Ransom, or I swear—”

He’s in my face, just inches from my kiss-swollen lips that he’d ravaged just hours ago. “Or what? What are you afraid of Heidi? That he might see it—the truth between you and me? You think he’s fucking blind? Newsflash, baby. I’m all over you—permanently embedded in every inch of your skin. I’m inside you, H . . . even when it’s him you’re fucking. I’m fucking you too . . . always. And you know that. You know that every time you come, it’s me that’s making your legs quiver. It’s me you’re screaming for. It’s my back you’re scratching when you want it deeper. Mine. Shit, you can feel me right now, can’t you, baby?”

“Shut. Up. Ransom!”