I can't allow that.
Not for her sake.
Not for mine.
38
ALYSSA
Something shifts, and I don’t know when it happened. One moment, we’re having the best car sex in the history of vehicular fornication—the next, Uri is holding part of himself away from me. I can feel it, sense it, as surely as if he slammed a door in my face and pocketed the key.
The car ride home is silent. He says nothing and doesn’t touch me as we park and get out. I’m heading up the stairs when Uri stops suddenly. I turn to look at him, wondering why his face looks so stormy. “It’s Friday,” he rumbles.
“So?”
His jaw is clenched tight. “Our arrangement still stands.”
His eyes veer towards the basement door and I freeze. Hadn’t we eaten together? Gone out together? Exchanged stories about past traumas and the loved ones we’d lost?
Was that all in my head? The way he’s looking at me now says, Did you really think you were any different than the women who came before you?
“Will you at least tell me why?” I croak.
“No.”
He seems to swallow up the entire night in that one small word. Everything I experienced tonight, everything I felt, is washed away like it meant nothing at all.
“Is it because you’re entertaining another woman up here?”
His face doesn’t shift at all. “It doesn’t matter why. You’ll go down to the basement because I told you to. You promised to behave. Now, fucking behave.”
And just like that, with just a few words, he’s reduced me down to a prisoner. He’s put me back in my place and reminded me of the truth of our situation. I’m not his guest or his friend and I’m certainly not his girlfriend. He’s not beholden to me for anything. He doesn’t owe me any explanations.
He just says jump. I ask only how high.
I shove past him and descend into the basement. The moment I walk through that door, the darkness hits me and I feel a sob at the back of my throat.
What fresh hell is this? How am I back here after a week of freedom?
But I was never really free, now, was I? It was all just an illusion.
I got caught up in the moment, drawn to his confidence and his charisma. Wrapped up in the brother and the son that he was. Taken by how protective he seemed to be of the people closest to him.
And I was foolish enough to believe for a second there that I might be one of them.
Once the lock on the basement door turns, I slump over to the bed and lie down in it. Fetal position, of course, because it’s just that kind of night.
I’ve been so swept away in the events of the last week—picnic lunches with Lev, long conversations with Uri, just the general ease of life above ground—that I completely pushed aside the stuff that matters to me.
Like Elle for instance. Her bridal shower. Her wedding. I was supposed to be there for all of it!
But instead, I’d dropped her a vague text message, per Uri’s instructions, and then disappeared on her. She must think I’m the worst fucking friend on the planet. And I wouldn’t blame her.
Now, in addition to the heartbreak, I have guilt to contend with.
After an hour of tossing and turning, I end up in the shower, trying to scrub his scent from my skin. The whole time I’m getting pelted with cold water, I berate myself for being a naïve idiot. Then I get into my coziest pajamas and get into bed, resolving to be smarter than I have been.
And even so, my last thought before I drift off to sleep is, Is he watching me?
I’m this close to banging my head against a wall the next morning when the lock unbolts. I rush out of the kitchen to see Lev walking in, shuffling his feet uncertainly as his gaze veers around the room.
“Lev!” He jumps in place. “Oops, sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He’s wringing his hands and avoiding my eyes. I inch a little closer. “I’m sorry I’ve invaded your basement again.”
He nods like he’s agreeing with me. “Can I stay here?”
“Of course. Make yourself comfortable.”
He just continues to stand there, swinging his hands. “Can we… do something together?”
As crappy as I’m feeling right now, those words warm me up. He didn’t come here for the basement; he came here to see me.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
He blushes happily and, of course, his go-to is to the video game corner. I follow him there and we drop down in our usual spots. Lev on the carpet on the floor, and me on the sofa just behind him.
“My friend’s husband plays video games a lot, too,” I mention as Lev puts in his username. I’m pretty sure he’s not listening to me but I talk anyway. “I’ll bet he’s been roped into wedding planning now because I’ve gone MIA on…”