I stare at her flatly.
“Because that’s what they all are, honey. They’re all good with it until they’re not and they leave you in the dust as they speed away to something better.”
“My aunt, always the cynic.”
“Realistic, Day. I’m realistic.”
I get back up and pour my coffee. “You would know, right? One marriage accounts for all the men in the world.”
“It accounts for all the men with an ounce of self-respect. You and I both know Aaron won’t stand for you escorting if you’re in a relationship.”
My fingers curl around the lip of the counter, and I take a deep breath. “I know. He’s made that crystal clear several times.”
“So he should. Call girls don’t have relationships and—”
“They don’t fall in love. Yeah, I know.”
“In theory.”
“Theory is bullshit without reality.”
My aunt’s lips curve into a smirk that is identical to mine. “Precisely, Day. Theories are just that. They can be tossed aside as easily as the one before them.”
I chew the inside of my cheek and study her. The hardness has gone from her eyes. All the tension has seeped from her shoulders, and she almost looks relaxed. Alarm bells ring in the depths of my mind.
“Where is this going?”
Aunt Leigh pauses, nibbling on her bottom lip. “Will you give it up? For him? If it’s him or your job, will you step away from the escorting world and give him everything you have?”
“Yes,” I whisper without a thought. “If that’s what it comes to, yes. I’ll walk away for him.”
“Good.”
My eyes shoot up to hers. “What?”
“Good,” she repeats, her voice firmer than a moment ago.
The stool scrapes against the floor as she stands and turns away from me. She looks out the doors that lead to my backyard and briefly rests her forehead against the glass.
“Good,” she says yet again. “Do it. If you have the choice, take the escape. Take the way out. Don’t let your job ruin your relationship.”
Silence lingers as I process her words. They’re soft and heartfelt. They’re tinged—no, they’re saturated—in regret. They hit where it hurts.
“Aunt Leigh?”
“You know I didn’t. You know I chose escorting over my marriage to Luke. You know it killed the five years we’d spent together.” She exhales heavily. “I chose the power and control over the love I had for him, and it destroyed us.”
“You’ve lived with that for six years? Why didn’t you say anything?”
She turns, a wan smile on her face. “I gave it up six months later. Do you remember?”
I nod.
“It was simply six months too late. If I’d left when Luke told me he was leaving, we could have saved our marriage. I didn’t. We didn’t.”
“Why are you telling me this? After all the times you’ve told me call girls don’t fall in love, why now?”
She crosses the kitchen to me and cups my cheeks in her hands in a rare show of her maternal side. “Dayton, I’m telling you so you don’t make the same mistake I did Call girls don’t fall in love…until they do. Don’t choose power and control over love because, when you lose that control, you have nothing else left. With love, at least you’ll always have something.”
“You’re telling me to leave Monique.” Now it’s my turn to state a fact.
“I’m telling you to do whatever you need to, to stay true to yourself.” She pats my cheek softly and steps back, grabbing her purse. “Whatever that might be.”
I watch as she strolls from my kitchen, completely dumbfounded by that conversation. Never did I imagine she felt that way—that she regretted her lifestyle.
Would that be me? If I don’t give Aaron everything, will I look back in five years’ time and regret it?
Is not giving him everything even an option?
I sink into the stool she just vacated. My head is spinning. First, my agent tells me to believe in true love. Then, my cold and cynical aunt tells me to pick love over the job she so adored.
I feel like I’ve entered the Twilight zone.
I drop my head to the table and turn it to the side. And stare right at Aunt Leigh’s scarf. I reach for my cell on the other side of the island and dial her number. It rings to voicemail.
“Hey, Aunt Leigh, you left your scarf—” The rumble of a car outside distracts me. “Oh, never mind. You’re here.”
I drop the phone, grab the silk scarf, and walk to the front door to meet her.
But when I open it, it’s not my aunt.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Naomi stands in front of me, her blond hair pulled back in a bun, and her long, fake eyelashes fanning out as she blinks at me. “We need to talk.”
She moves forward to enter the house, but I step in front of her, pulling the door shut behind me.
“Is that so?”
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“You’re the ex-wife of my boyfriend. What do you think?”
Her lips curl into an evil smile. “It’s really in your best interests to invite me in, Mia.”
Fuck.
Chapter Ten
I step back silently, allowing her to pass through, and follow her into my living room. She walks around it, her eyes examining every last detail, her heels snapping against the hardwood floor.
I fold my arms across my chest and pin her with my stare. “What are you doing here?”
“You’re a hard woman to find, Dayton Black. Or is it Mia Lopez? I’m not sure if there’s a difference between the two.”
“Don’t f**k around, Naomi. Say what you have to say or get the hell out of my house.”
She pushes her bangs back from her face and perches on my sofa.
“Please, take a seat. Make yourself at home.” I wave to her. “Perhaps you’d like to remove your shoes and have a coffee while you’re here?”
Naomi smirks. And it’s not a kind one. It’s a malicious twist of her lips that makes my skin crawl. “Does Aaron know?”
“Does Aaron know what?” I ask, feigning ignorance.
“That his precious Dayton is a common whore.”
“Oh, please. Give me some credit. I’m at least an upper-class whore.”
Her tongue flicks across her bottom lip. “I’ll guess he does.”