“Okay.” Stupid Edie. Stupid mouth. Stupid lust.

“Today, in the office, I am going to install the Uber app on your phone through my credit card. This will be your mode of transportation until your car gets fixed. No more fucking Bane and no more fucking Bane.”

“No, I…” I started again, but he grabbed my jaw in his hand, tilting my head so our noses almost brushed we were so close.

“Was there a question mark in my sentence? I don’t think so. Save me the bullshit about your mom and dad, Edie. You’re not them. And you’re not driving some unreliable piece of junk. You’ll be taking an Uber. End of story.”

I smiled, knowing he wasn’t going to get his way. Not that day, and not ever. I was no pushover. Not when it wasn’t about Theo. I opened the passenger door, stepping out and leaning against his window, like I had in the reservoir. His Wayfarers were already on.

“Hey, Trent?”

“What?” he nearly growled.

“About Sundays. I get to decide what we do with Luna.”

“Absolutely not. We can’t be seen together, Edie.”

“I’ll make sure we’re discreet.”

“No.”

“Was there a question mark at the end of my sentence?” I played our game again, where we threw each other’s words at one another like boomerangs. “I get to decide what we do.”

He sighed, kicking the car into drive. “Such a fucking headache,” he said.

“Drive safe, sane, and consensual.” I tapped on his car’s roof and walked away. I thought I heard him laughing behind me, but I didn’t turn around to check.

Instead, I closed my eyes and imagined that his voice was a wave.

I rode it all the way to a smile.

“IS ANYTHING WRONG?” SONYA ASKED.

Same old sweet, warm office, but now all I got was a cold shoulder. My fingers were laced together on her desk, my don’t-fuck-with-me face on full display. Luna was outside, playing with Sydney. Sonya had sent her away, and I knew exactly why. Luna and I had gone through the motions of another futile session—but that was to be expected—and I’d even told Sonya about the sign language class we’d gone to and how we’d learned practical signals, like I’m hungry, I want to go home, and I’m uncomfortable, which Luna had already used a few times and I was able to read—albeit fucking slowly.

The only thing that didn’t sit right with Sonya was the fact I hadn’t called her in a couple of weeks. My sexual appetite wasn’t satisfied. Not by a fucking long shot. In fact, I’d never suffered from such an extreme case of blue balls. But what could I possibly tell my child’s therapist? That I didn’t want to tap her ass anymore because I was too busy eating and fingering someone almost half my age, who’d recently added to her collection of stolen items my ancient cell phone, my iPad, and every piece of crap document I’d kept in my glove compartment?

“Nothing’s wrong,” I hissed.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Luna has responded pretty well to the sign language class, and she is spending more time with the work chick.” Sonya knew about Edie. Knew that the girl who’d caught us fucking was making friends with Luna. Sonya was cautiously in favor of the relationship, liking the idea of Luna enjoying the company of someone else, but worried that Edie wouldn’t understand the consequences of suddenly pulling away and ignoring Luna when she went off to college, got a new boyfriend, or fuck knows what. Fortunately, I’d blocked the boyfriend issue. She wasn’t going to date anytime soon.

Sonya leaned back in her chair and pursed her lips, oozing bad vibes. “You haven’t invited me over in a while.”

She could file this complaint alongside Amanda, who hadn’t had a phone call recently, either. As with everything I did, it wasn’t personal. It was just that there was only one person I wanted to roll between my sheets right now.

“Things have changed.” I snapped my gum, my gaze hard and bored.

“How so?”

“I’m seeing someone.” Blunt lie, but hey, lies were what kept this world running. I wasn’t seeing Edie. I was merely watching her lust-drunk face as I ate her out and fingered her sweet, tight ass. At the same time, Sonya was no longer needed by me and I had to let her go. Our no-strings-attached relationship had reached its expiration date. It was time to move on.

“Oh.” The therapist perked up in her seat, her eyebrows shooting so high up her hairline, they almost disappeared. “Do I know her?”

“Why would you?” I bit out. Fine. Maybe I was a little defensive because Edie was barely legal and the idea of being a cradle snatcher rubbed me the wrong way. I bit the inside of my cheek thinking about how illicit we were, felt, looked. The tan, ripped man and the petite blonde teenager.