Page 225 of Just for the Plot

“I’m sorry,” I say, knowing this is crossing the fucking line, but Christ, I just need to figure this shit out before my game tonight.

“It’s fine,” she says and then to my surprise, takes my hand and pulls me into the old Victorian-style house.

Adalade walks up, decked out in a maroon silk blouse and matching silk skirt, her hair tidy in a bun at the nape of her neck, and delicate gold bracelets framing her wrists.

Posh and sophisticated, it’s the only way to describe her.

“Bennett, it’s so great to see you.” She comes up to me and presses a kiss to each of my cheeks.

“Hi, Adalade, I’m really sorry that I’m barging in on you like this.”

“Oh, it’s fine, we’re just trying on outfits for my dinner party.” She steps back, showing off her skirt. “What do you think?”

I give her a loving smile. “I think you look great in anything you put on.”

Adalade winks and then says to Bower, “He’s a keeper.”

“Do you mind if we step outside for a moment to talk?” Bower asks, her hand still clasping mine.But for how long?

“I do,” Adalade says.Fuck.Again. “I don’t want you outside, so please, use my office.”

Oh…well, thank fuck for that.

“Thank you,” Bower says. “I won’t be long.”

“Please, take all the time you need. I have to make a call to Greta anyway. She spoke of wearing maroon, and I believe I might claim the color for the evening. She’s quite the talker, so I might be a while.” Adalade heads toward the living room, while Bower takes me past the ornate staircase and wallpapered walls, past the kitchen, and to a den in the back where she shuts the door.

She brings me over to a green Victorian-style couch and sits us both down. “What’s going on?” she asks, her eyes searching mine.

This is it. Communication.

“Babe,” I say, feeling my throat grow tight.

Fuck.

This is embarrassing.

“I, uh…fuck, this is not the time to talk about this and now that I’m sitting here, in your place of work, I realize just how inappropriate it is to disrupt you, because I know this is not something you’d ever do to me.”

“What’s going on?” she asks, looking scared.

“I’m sorry,” I say, wanting her to know that. “But I have a game tonight and it’s stressing me and I just want to fucking know.”

“Know what?”

“I, uh…I’ve been struggling with where things are going with us.” She sits taller, her eyes looking concerned, but I keep moving forward. “I feel like you’ve been pulling away, and fuck, I like you, Bower, more than I think I can tell you at this point, and I know you’re not there yet, but…”

“Bennett, you’re worrying me,” she says, her eyes searching mine.

“I need to know where you’re at mentally with me, because if you’re just not in the same place and want some space, that’s okay. I can honor that and give you time, but I do…I do want to know, because thewondering is going to fucking kill me. And if you’re seeing other guys, then just let me know because—”

“Bennett, where is this coming from?” she asks, looking so confused that I almost wish I never brought this up.

“It stems from the distance I’ve felt,” I say. “The worry I have over your feelings for me. And the fact that there were pictures of you with Cougar at the coffee house again.”

Her eyes search mine again before she says, “Let me see them.”

Let her see them?