Infini (Aerial Ethereal #2)(54)

The selfish part of me yells and shouts to hold on for dear fucking life. I already gave Baylee up once. I don’t want to lose her again.

She leans back, dejected. “It was a long shot anyway.”

My mind speeds through our history, and I dump out a container of toothpicks, slowly pocketing them. “Look, you don’t need to be fixed. It’s okay if you can’t separate the emotional from the physical. Both ways are fine, and neither is wrong.”

She nods once and then hesitates, contemplating. “Maybe I shouldn’t do it like you then, but in order to do it my way, I need to figure out how to get over you emotionally. That way I can form an emotional connection to someone else and eventually be physical with them.”

I have no idea how to do that. My emotions are still completely tied around her. I’m no sooner ready to let go than she is. But really, I want to help as much as I can.

A thought pops into my head.

“You could just need closure,” I say. “Like a redo.”

Her brows spike. “With you?”

“Yeah, with me.” I give her a look and upright the empty toothpick holder. “Who else?”

“We can’t touch.” She stares off, remembering earlier at the hotel, the cab. Where I did actually touch her. More than Corporate says I’m allowed to.

I take my cell out of my pocket and set it down. “It’s not going off. No one’s scolding us by email.” I lean forward for the thousandth time. “I can touch you—outside of the Masquerade, we can do anything we want. We’ve just never tried.” There’s the risk of being caught, but it lessens outside of the hotel.

We’re older.

We have more ways to evade Corporate’s vigilant gaze than we did before. More freedoms. Simple ones: I don’t have a curfew set by Nikolai. She doesn’t room with her brother anymore.

Baylee rotates her empty coffee cup, deep in thought.

“Hey,” I whisper, “it’s up to you, krasavitsa.”

She may not be ready to mess with Corporate again, not after we were burned. Since this is our first long conversation, I don’t know where her head is at. She was only initially seeking a talk about her list and my experiences. I pushed things further.

I always do. Nikolai was right. Give me an inch, I go five feet.

I’m okay with that. (Chastise me. Sue me. I don’t care.) Bay looks up. “Let me get this straight.”

“Okay.”

“You want to go through my list and physically redo everything with me?”

“Yeah,” I say, absolutely serious.

“That really seems counter-intuitive.” She eyes me. “Sleep with you to get over you?”

Yeah. It’s dumb.

I think we’re both fighting for a way to see each other more. I’m definitely fighting for a way. It’s a narrow path, but I’ll gladly cross it. “It’s an ending. Something you didn’t get before.”

She stares off for a moment and says, “And maybe…maybe the sex and being with you will be different.”

“Different how?” I ask, nerves infiltrating.

“Well, the last time we were together, we were young. Maybe it’s all in our heads, right?” She winces at this thought. “Maybe time has changed us, and we’re not good together anymore. We’ll never know unless we try again. And then I can move on…”

Chills snake up my spine. I want to defend us, but in the same breath, she’s throwing out a rope to this half-brained idea. The only idea that’ll push us towards seeing each other outside of work. And watching her, I’m not even sure she believes we’ve changed that much.

She adds, “We’ll put a close to us. That way I can finally have sex with other guys.”

Pain flares in my gray eyes. “Or you could just be with me.” I’m a dreamer.

She’s a realist, even when it hurts. “So we’ll be together in secret forever. And you’ll never be able to kiss me in public. No one will know we’re married, and when I get pregnant, I’ll have to tell people the baby belongs to some no-named guy that looks strangely like you.”

“I’m already getting you pregnant?” I tease.

She rolls her eyes, but her face slowly morphs into a smile. “You’re unbelievable.” At this point, I’d usually pull her body against mine.

It’s killing me not to touch her—not to do something more. I want Baylee Wright. No limitations.

No one controlling us.

I want to push the table away and fuck her how she should be fucked. Until her legs quake and her mouth parts and a moan escapes. I want to give her that.

Not some other dude. Me.

I nod to Bay. “Do you have a synonym for unbelievable?”

She raises her brows, acting all grave and poised.

I smile. “I bet you’re missing your thesaurus right about now, huh?”

She throws a sugar packet at me, and we both start laughing. Bay is almost always serious, which I love because it makes breaking her New Yorker cool-as-steel attitude more fun and worthwhile.

But tension soon replaces our laughter, and we’re back to the list.

Even if we quit our jobs, Marc would still enforce the no minors policy. There are no clear answers. There are just risks we can take and safe places we can hide. One is dull, the other is full. Of love, of life.