Sugar (27 page)

So why did he feel so shitty about it?

Sarah was stepping out of the shower when Cole’s text came in.
Need to cancel tomorrow nite. Something came up. Call you for rain check?

Tamping down her misgivings, she reached for her robe. She slipped it on but not before glimpsing her newest bruise in the mirror, a yellowish discoloration on her buttock courtesy of the marble bathroom counter.

Once they’d got back to her apartment, Cole’s “gift” had succeeded in taking her mind off her media worries, at least for the short term. By the time they’d reached her building, she was in such a heightened state of arousal that she hadn’t been able to think beyond fulfillment. Intercourse with Ben-Wa Balls had been amazing for them both. She couldn’t wait for them to try it again. Cole’s text, though, had her wondering if she would have the chance to.

It wasn’t his rescheduling that bothered her. It was the
way
he’d gone about it, canceling via text message rather than calling. And it was weird that he’d waited until seven on a Monday night to text her. He knew she had her FATE meeting every Monday from six to eight PM. Only tonight she didn’t. With Peter and Pol still in honeymoon mode and everyone having just seen one another at their Saturday wedding, they’d collectively consented to canceling that week’s meeting.

Earlier in the day, there’d been an obvious reporter snooping around her building. Her email inbox was so full she was seriously considering hitting “Delete All” and closing the account. Her phone had rung a few times too, though none of the callers had left any message. Had Saturday’s paparazzi run-in caused Cole to wonder if seeing her wasn’t maybe more trouble than it was worth? Picking up her phone, she sent him a quick text back.
Sure, NP
.

NP—no problem. If only she believed that were true.

The fundraiser dinner had been a misery for Cole. Even as he went through the motions of hosting—the welcome speech, the silent auction, the shameless guilting you had to go through to get money out of people these days, even the rich ones—he was incapable of not thinking of Sarah. Like a sexy ghost, she’d haunted him throughout the evening. Crazy as it sounded—was—he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that he was cheating on her. Misguided guilt aside, he’d just really missed her. More than once, he’d caught himself wondering what she might say about something that took place, what funny crack she might make aloud or whisper in his ear.

Candace was well-connected, well-heeled, and, he knew from their previous encounters, a seriously solid fuck. Her frequent touches throughout the evening—her bare foot sliding up his pants leg, her hand squeezing his inner thigh beneath the table—made it clear she was willing to forgive and forget the past few months of neglect. If he went to bed with her, the makeup sex would be hot, he was sure of it, with her working double time to woo him back. And yet he spent the Uber car ride back to her Upper West Side apartment coming up with excuses for gracefully getting rid of her.

At her pressuring, he got out and walked her up to her building entrance. Outside the glass doors, she lifted her face to his. “Coming up?” From her confident smile, he could tell the question was perfunctory.

Cole hesitated, planting his feet in the pavement. Forget fucking, the thought of kissing her goodnight suddenly felt unthinkable. Seeing Sarah had as good as gotten rid of his game with other women. She might as well have cut off his balls.

And the worst of it was he felt guilty—guilty!—as though he was doing something wrong, as though he was cheating. Was it even possible to cheat on a porn star? But who was he gaming now? Sarah had stopped being that to him weeks ago.

Watching her mother Liz’s boy, Jonathan, moved him in ways he couldn’t begin to express. Day by day, being with her broke down each and every stereotype he’d held onto. And then there were FATE friends, all former adult entertainers. Liz was funny and gutsy and brave, a great mom to Jonathan in the midst of fighting for her life. Patrick was a hoot with a heart of gold, clearly crazy in love with his new husband. Honey and Brian, while quieter, had seemed like really cool people, too.

Stepping back, he said, “Thanks, but I have an early morning.”

A furrow appeared between her eyes. “That never stopped you before. C’mon, one drink.” The invitation came slightly slurred.

“You’ve already had a lot to drink.” She swayed toward him, a deliberate play or so he suspected. “So have you, so what?”

Actually he’d had only a few glasses of wine. Like his smoking, his alcohol consumption had lowered significantly since meeting Sarah. Being with her felt so amazing the last thing he wanted was to blunt his senses in any way.

“All the more reason to call it a night.”

She glared at him. “What’s your problem?”

His problem was Sarah, but he could hardly say so. Aware of the doorman watching them through the glass, he said, “It’s too late for this.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Sure you don’t need a shot of
sugar
?”

Definitely in Sarah withdrawal, Cole felt as transparent as the glass doors at his back. “We’re friends.” He’d sworn something similar earlier to his mother. The lie didn’t sound any more convincing this time.

She rolled her eyes. “Whatevs.”

“Goodnight.” He turned to go.

She caught at his arm. “If you want to call up your
friend
and have her come over I could be . . . into that.”

He’d had a few threesomes before. So long as swords weren’t crossed, he’d been cool with sharing. But sharing Sarah with anyone, man or woman, wasn’t something he could bring himself to consider—ever.

“Thanks but I don’t think so.” He shook her off.

“Cole, come back. I didn’t mean to be a bitch. I’m just buzzed. Aren’t you at least going to kiss me goodnight?”

“No, Candace, I’m not.” He turned away. “Goodnight. Take care of yourself.”

Directing his steps toward the waiting car, he acknowledged he was really saying goodbye.

Sipping coffee at her kitchen counter and skimming the paper’s online Arts & Entertainment section, the photo of Cole with the beautiful redhead slammed Sarah like a sucker punch. So much for something coming up, the formal foundation fundraiser at the Met looked anything but unplanned or last minute. Of course he couldn’t have taken her, she knew that, but why had he felt the need to lie? Couldn’t he have . . . gone alone? Taken a . . . cousin or someone similarly platonic? Regardless, being seen out with a prominent socialite so soon after Saturday should go a long way in diffusing the rumors that he with “Sugar.” So far as reputation management, it was a stunning strategy unless of course the date had been real and not a ruse.

To be fair, Sarah had been as adamant as he about upholding their “no strings” rule. She should know better than to want more now. She
did
know better. Even if she were an elementary school teacher rather than an adult film star, Cole was as unattainable as men came. And yet she couldn’t fight her feelings. Watching him pushing Jonathan on the swings, seeing him with Liz and their other friends at the wedding she’d found herself fantasizing about what it would be like to have him in her life permanently, for keeps and not only for sex.

Her phone rang. Her heart rate ratcheted. She fished it from her purse. Seeing Patrick’s name on her cell, she tamped down her disappointment and answered.

“Hi newlywed,” she said with false cheer. Just because her love life was in the shitter didn’t give her the right to crap on everyone else’s.

“Hi yourself,” he answered, sounding happier than she’d ever heard him. “Pol and I just got around to opening our wedding gifts and oh my God, Sarah! You planned our entire wedding and now this. A two week all inconclusive trip to Ireland, I—we—don’t know what to say.”

This time Sarah smiled for real. “Don’t say anything, just go and have an amazing time.”

“I’d say we’d name our firstborn after you but well, that’ll probably mean a puppy.”

“That’s okay, I like puppies.” With Cole likely out of the picture, she might as well move forward with getting a dog.

Clicking alerted her to another incoming call. A reporter probably. She hadn’t been bugged as much as she’d expected, but she hadn’t been left alone, either. Putting Peter on speaker, she looked down. The caller wasn’t a reporter at all. It was Cole!

Breathe, Sarah, just breathe
.

Impatient to be off, she said, “Pete, I’ve got to run, but give my love to Pol and well, bring me back a sweater.”

He chuckled. “You’ve got it, sweetie. Ta.”

Ending the call with Peter, relief rushed her. Cole hadn’t dumped her! Guys like Cole didn’t call to tell you it was over. They just didn’t call.

Still, she forced herself to count to five before answering. “Hello.”

Cole’s voice greeted her from the receiver. “Hi yourself. What’s up?” He sounded pretty much as he always did, but Sarah sensed a slight strain to his voice.

Holding the phone to her ear, Sarah focused on smoothing any tremor from her tone before answering. “You tell me.”

A long pause and then, “About the other night—”

“I don’t care about you canceling” she cut in, “but lying to me isn’t cool. I deserve better than that.”

“I didn’t actually lie, I just—”

“Look, unless you missed the memo, seeing other people socially is fine.”

Socially but not sexually. Glancing back to the computer screen to Cole wrapped around the redhead, Sarah couldn’t imagine he hadn’t done both. Whoever and whatever Candace Bennett was to him Sarah wanted to rip out her rival’s red hair by the roots.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, but you do have to respect my time.”

“Agreed, and for what it’s worth, I feel really badly about canceling on you at the last minute.”

“Don’t worry about it. I . . . made other plans.” Her “other plans” had involved taking Jonathan to the park and then treating him to a Shake Shack cheeseburger, but Cole didn’t need to know that.

“Let me make it up to you. Have dinner with me tonight. Fuck the media. We’ll go anywhere you want.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Besides, after last night, you’re probably off the hook so far as any scandal.”

He hesitated. “Maybe I don’t want to be off the hook.”

Sarah hesitated. She was offering him his out. Why didn’t he just take it? “I promised to take dinner over to Liz’s. She’s feeling rough after this morning’s treatment.” Weakening, she added, “I’ll be free after eight only I don’t feel like going out.”

“No problem, I’ll pick up dinner on my way. Chinese, sushi, pizza—”

“Whatever. I don’t have any preference.”

Fucking and feeding—the two F’s, only tonight she doubted they’d be doing much of either.

“Great, I’ll see you at eight then.” She’d expected him to sign off, he wasn’t ordinarily one for long phone conversations, but instead he held on. “We’re good then?”

“Yeah, sure, we’re fine.” She’d never been less fine in her life, but she was an actress, after all. She’d faked multiple orgasms before an entire production team. Certainly she should be able to pull off a decent performance of nonchalance over the phone. “I’ve got to go. Bye.” Sarah set down the cell.