Page 89 of Ink & Desire
Shit.
Love. My thoughts come to a giant, screeching halt. When did that happen? When did I go from hating Corbin to wanting him to loving him? It happened so gradually that I didn’t notice until it was too late. Well, that’s not entirely true. I had my suspicions weeks ago. I just ignored them in favor of focusing on all the delicious orgasms he gave me. I don’t know how he feels about me. I know he cares. He wouldn’t be coming with me tomorrow if he didn’t. Right? Maybe this trip is just what we need. Some time away from our usual lives so we can figure out what this is. It’s not crazy to believe he might love me too, right? If not now, maybe someday.
Speaking of Corbin, he’s supposed to be picking up his tux this afternoon between clients. We’re leaving in the morning for New York. I’m nervous for him to meet my mother and see where I grew up. He knows my familyis wealthy, but I didn’t tell him everything. My family’s money is the least interesting thing about my life. I don’t want him to judge me based on that. I don’t want him to go into this with biases. I’m not sure if it’s the best way to go about it, but I’m hoping it will all work out. It’s not like I’m lying to him about anything.
Because Corbin had to reschedule his Saturday clients, he’s planning to stay late tonight to make sure he doesn’t break his commitments. He sends Noah and Jessie home at their usual time while he finishes his last client. When I try to stay with him, he hands me the key to his apartment and practically orders me to leave. Since I still need to pack a few things, I don’t argue too much about it.
After leaving Elemental Ink, I head to my apartment to grab the rest of my necessities before going back to Corbin’s place to wait for him. He said he’d be finished by 11, but I know sometimes his calculations are a little off. Still, when midnight comes and goes and he’s still not home, I start to worry. The shop is only a ten-minute drive from here at this late hour, even on a Friday night. I try not to let my imagination wander, but it’s not easy.
I finally break down and call him, but the call goes straight to voicemail. I text him to call me back as soon as he can; hoping that if he’s still working, he’ll at least send me some acknowledgment, but there’s no response. I call again, but with the same result. Now I’m starting to really worry. I pace the apartment trying to decide how long to wait before I go search for him. Boston isa big city, but I could at least go to the shop and see if his car is there, right? I wish I had Henley’s number. I’d call her and see if she’s heard from him. I wonder if I’m overreacting. He often forgets to charge his phone. It’s possible that it just died and he hasn’t noticed it yet. But it doesn’t explain why he’s not here. It’s not like him not to show up when he says he will.
“Fuck this,” I mutter, reaching for my keys.
I’m going to go look for him. If he’s safe at the shop, I’ll turn around and come back. He never needs to know I left the apartment. I reach for the door just as I hear a key in the lock. Relief hits me hard and fast when the door opens, and I see Corbin standing there. I launch myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“You scared the shit out of me,” I say. “Why didn’t you call me if you were going to be this late?”
“Sorry,” he says, exhaustion evident in his voice.
He kisses my cheek before easing me aside so he can close the door and lock it behind him. He looks more than exhausted now that I get a good look at him. He looks almost defeated.
“You okay?” I ask. “Did something happen?”
He huffs out a humorless laugh as he walks past me toward the bedroom. “Nothing new,” he mutters.
I follow him, my worry from earlier returning. Corbin is home and safe, but something clearly happened to upset him.
“Is Henleyokay?” I ask.
He strips off his shirt and tosses it into the hamper. “She’s fine.”
“Corbin, look at me,” I say. “Is everything okay?”
He heaves a sigh as he turns to face me. There’s something in his expression that seems almost…empty.
“What?” he asks, his voice hard. “I’m tired, Avery. Do we have to do this tonight?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Do what? I’m just worried about you.”
“Well, you don’t need to worry about me,” he says. “I’m fine. I always am.”
He turns to walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Moments later, I hear the shower turn on. I stand there in the middle of the bedroom, wondering what the hell just happened and why it feels like we’re fighting. Things were fine earlier. What happened after I left the shop?
I want to follow him into the bathroom and demand he tell me what’s wrong. I want to force him to let me in, but I know how well that would go. Still, I can’t just leave him this way. Something is clearly bothering him.
I hear the water shut off and decide to wait for him to emerge from the bathroom. When he comes out, a towel wrapped around his waist and his dark hair damp, I almost forget why I’m waiting to talk to him. Part of me wonders if I should give up on talking and try to tease him out of his bad mood with my body. But I know sex won’t fix whatever is wrong with him. It would just be a temporary fix.
“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” I ask, trying to keep my voice low and even.
“Not really,” he says, moving to the dresser to pull out some underwear and a pair of gym shorts.
I’m disappointed but not surprised by his dismissive tone. I could push him, but I don’t think it’ll get the results I want. Maybe a good night’s sleep will help. He’s clearly exhausted. It’s been a long day.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s just get some sleep. We’ve got to be up early for our flight.”
He gets dressed and sighs as he sits on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair. He doesn’t look at me when he speaks.
“I don’t think I should go tomorrow.”