Room For Three

by Melissa Silvey

  The phone’s voice says, “You have one new voicemail.”

  I touch the screen, and listen to it too. Because I like to hurt, I guess.

  “Charlie, it’s me again, Asher. If you really want to go home tonight, I’ll make sure the private jet is ready to leave when you are. I want to make everything easier on you. I want to give you whatever you need right now. But you have to communicate with me. You have to tell me what you need. Please tell me what I can do for you to make you feel better. Please talk to me. Don’t shut me out. I can’t handle that. I need you, Charlie. Damn it, I only have one minute left again. Please talk to me sweetheart. I’m begging.”

  I feel terrible now. He must have lived through some kind of trauma in his childhood that made him fear abandonment. I should have realized when he called me out here because of Amanda Hansen’s pushiness that he doesn’t deal well with other people’s emotions. He must not be able to deal with his own, either.

  I can’t cut him off right now, not like this. But I also need my own space. Gawd!

  I do what I never thought I would. I text Mr. Glass.

  I’m sorry, Mr. Glass. I can’t talk to you right now. I am hurting too. I don’t want to fly in your private plane with you, because then we would have to talk to each other and I don’t want to talk. I would rather fly commercial, so that I can have time to think by myself. I’ll get something to eat at the airport, so don’t worry about me. I’m angry, Mr. Glass. Even though you claim you didn’t, you cheated on Mr. Waits with me. I can’t abide cheating, Mr. Glass. I’m sorry, but that’s how I feel. When you see me at work again, I will be your Executive Assistant, and nothing else. Please respect my wishes.

  I read through the message, and when I’m satisfied with it I hit send.

  I make sure I have everything out of the bathroom, because my toiletries were all I really unpacked, and gather my suitcase and my garment bag, which holds the new dressed that Mr. Waits bought me. He bought the dresses for me, and the shoes, knowing that I would wear them around his boyfriend. What did he say when he saw them? He wished he could see Asher’s reaction. He knew how Mr. Glass felt, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He knew, and he sent me out here with sexy dresses to beguile him. He practically led me like a lamb to the slaughter. He is just as much to blame as Mr. Glass himself.

  How could they both do this to me?

  My phone vibrates, and I pull it out of the pocket of my sweat jacket to check it.

  I want more than that, Charlie. I want you to be my lover and my friend. I want you to take care of me, and I want you to share your body with me. I want everything about you. I’ve known since I met you that you are what I’ve needed all my life. Don’t take that away from me. Please.

  I realize as I place my purse over my shoulder that I did not arrange for a return flight. I thought I would fly back with Mr. Glass. I thought I would at least have time to worry about it while I was here. Now it’s eleven thirty at night on Saturday. I’m not sure if the travel agency that Glass Investments uses will be open right now. Surely someone is there to deal with emergencies. I’d probably have to wait until tomorrow. Maybe Monday.

  Shit. I text him again, but only because I have to.

  I didn’t get a return ticket, so I guess I need you to take me home. But I don’t want to talk. I just want to go home. If you can’t do that, just tell me. I will work something out.

  I sit down on the arm of the three sided couch in my private living room, and wait for him to answer. I place my head in my hands, and I try not to think about everything that happened tonight. I need to put it out of my mind. I need to forget how Mr. Glass looks naked, how perfect his skin is, and how good he feels inside me. I need to forget about how turned on he was by me, how hard he was all the time. I have to somehow stop myself from thinking of him staring at me in the black dress his boyfriend picked out. Oh, gawd, how will I push the thoughts out of…

  My phone vibrates. I click on his message, and it opens.

  The plane will be ready in two hours. We can leave now, or we can leave whenever you’re ready. I will try not to bother you, but it won’t be easy. You’ve touched something inside me, a place no one else has found. I don’t want to go backward, Charlie. I want to go forward with you.

  Since I have a few minutes to sit and brood again before we have to leave, I read his messages again and again, and it only makes me more emotional each time.

  What about Peyton? You remember him don’t you, your boyfriend of two and a half years? What about him? Do you want to go forward with both of us, or just me?

  I can’t wait to read his answer to that question. He said he didn’t want Peyton to force him to choose, because he wouldn’t like the answer. But I want his answer, because I need to know if he will abandon his boyfriend. He’s already cheated on him.

  Yes. Both of you. Would you be okay with that?

  Well isn’t he one conceited, selfish, self-centered, self-absorbed asshole?

  Chapter Eighteen

  I step onto the plane, which I’ve been on before of course. After three years of working at Glass Investments, I’d grown accustomed to traveling around in the private jet. It was almost strange, booking my own ticket. Was that really just last night? Wow, it seems like a week ago now.

  I was a little surprised when Asher texted me, and asked me if I’d like to ride back to Wilmington with them. Somehow the limo ride to the airport was even more tense than the limo ride from the art gallery to the hotel. The three of us sat in perfect, eerie silence. Asher sat on the seat across from me and Charlie. We sat on opposite ends, each looking anywhere but at each other, or Asher. Asher’s silence was not a surprise, he usually handles his emotions by blocking them out or ignoring them. Charlie’s silence was completely out of character. Just in the short amount of time I spent with her, I realized that she is an extremely friendly, outgoing person. She is the exact opposite of Asher.

  After the first time we had sex, he didn’t speak to me for a week. I thought that he hated it, or that he regretted it. He didn’t, though. His mind was just occupied with other things. When he called me to ask me to dinner at his beach house the following weekend, he couldn’t understand why I was upset that we hadn’t talked. That’s just Asher.

  Charlie has claimed a seat at the front, and she’s staring angrily out the window. Yes, even though she doesn’t say anything, just her gaze conveys her feelings.

  Asher takes a seat at the back, and watches me with those dark eyes of his to see where I will sit. I take a seat across the aisle from him, but one row up. Unlike Charlie, I want to be close enough to him that he’s aware of my presence, but not near enough that he realizes I’m making it easy on him.

  As I expected, Asher is silent while the plane taxis on the runway. What I didn’t expect is for him to speak after we’ve only been in the air for about ten minutes. “I’m sorry, Peyton. I didn’t mean to break your trust.”

  I’m stunned. I’m not sure that he’s ever apologized to me for anything. Not that he’s really done much to hurt my feelings. He’s distant sometimes, of course, but he’s not intentionally hurtful. What he said earlier really hit home, and I’ve thought about nothing but his words since then. He does let me do whatever I want to him, even the kinkier, rougher stuff. He pays when we go out. He doesn’t complain about anything ever. He doesn’t bitch, or nag.

  He’s actually a pretty good boyfriend.

  That might not be true, but he’s not a bad boyfriend. He’s definitely not the worst boyfriend I’ve ever had, even in light of recent events.

  I don’t answer immediately. Again, I don’t want to be too easy. I want him to grovel.

  “Would you like a snack?” I hear the pleasant voice of the flight attendant ask. I look up to answer her, but I see that she is speaking to Charlie. She looks toward the back of the cabin, and catches me watching her.

  She looks guilty as she says, “Yes, please.” Then she turns back to the window. The gorgeous black dress
is gone, the makeup has been removed, and her hair is in a ponytail. Still, she’s beautiful.

  I glance back at Asher, and I catch him looking at her as well. Damn, she has him utterly captivated. It pisses me off more than I can articulate.

  “Are we breaking up?” I ask.

  He tears his attention away from her. He’s really looking at me, taking in each of my features, and I feel like he’s comparing me to her. I don’t like it at all. Finally, he says, “I still want to spend time with you.”

  “You want to fuck me? Is that it, Asher? You’re a grown man, you can say it out loud,” I state, without raising my voice.

  He doesn’t say anything. I think I’ve put him in his place, for a moment, until he looks to my right.

  “Would you like a snack?” I hear.

  Great! Fucking great! I exhale loudly, and answer, “No thanks.” I feel like a complete and total asshole right now. I feel my face turning bright red. Damn.

  The attendant takes a step toward Asher, the man who owns the plane, and asks, “Would you like a snack?”

  “No thank you.” His voice is that of an emotionless automaton again. And that’s on me. I really fucked up this time. When the attendant returns to the front of the cabin, he continues, “Yes, I want to have sex with you. And I want to have sex with Charlie. What is so wrong about that?” I refuse to look at him, because I’m so embarrassed. “You’re both attractive. You’re both intelligent. You’re both very good at your jobs. You’re both trustworthy. You both possess the qualities that I desire in a lover. Why shouldn’t I want both of you?” I can’t believe he’s still speaking to me, after what I just did, but he is.

  So I answer him. “Because that’s not how life works. People grow attached, and get jealous if their partner gives affection to another person.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” he says. And he is completely serious. He doesn’t understand why I’m angry, or jealous. All he sees is his side of the issue.

  “Would you get mad if I wanted to have sex with someone else?” I ask, to give an example.

  He processes that for a moment. His mouth is a hard, thin line, and his eyes are narrow slits. Then he counters, “Would you still want to have sex with me?”

  “That’s not the point,” I reply. “The point is-“

  Charlie interrupts me then, “You said you wanted me to be yours exclusively. Do you know what that word means?”

  “Yes, I know what it means. Yes, I said it. And I meant it,” Asher replies almost sharply. But when he glances up at her, his expression softens.

  “Then you must understand why Mr. Waits is jealous,” she retorts.

  He almost smiles. He’s happy that she made an intelligent point against him. I want to throw something at her.

  “But I didn’t ask Peyton to be mine exclusively,” he says with a half-grin, as if he proved something as well.

  It makes me irate. I am so envious of her I can hardly stand it. “Why not?” I demand.

  “What?” Asher asks, as he turns toward me.

  “Why didn’t you ask if I would be yours exclusively?”

  He seems confused that I would even ask. And then he looks up toward Charlie again. That’s it. I’m done. I can’t make him understand if he doesn’t. Maybe I should just tell him I can’t see him again. Maybe playing hard to get will help him feel what I’m feeling.

  “He doesn’t get human emotions. Why do you keep trying?” Charlie yells back at him. He frowns when she says it. He feels, maybe more than other people, and what she said obviously hurts him.

  So I raise my voice at her. “Hey, shut up! No one said you could sit up there and take pot shots at him whenever you want. If you want to talk to him, come back here and talk to him. Don’t toss back insults from a safe distance.”

  He might be the biggest asshole on the planet, but he’s still my boyfriend, and no one is allowed to speak to him like that when I’m around.

  “But she’s right, Peyton. I don’t understand my emotions.” He’s taking up for her. I hate her even more now.

  “Sometimes we don’t know why we feel what we feel. There’s nothing wrong with you. If she always understands her feelings, well, cheers to her. But I bet, right now, she doesn’t get what’s going through her head either. And she’s trying to make you feel bad for it.” I’m engaging her. Why am I doing that?

  “I know what I’m feeling!” She stands up and faces the back of the cabin. “I feel used! I feel dirty! I feel betrayed, just like I did when Patrick cheated on me!”

  “You don’t have a right to feel that way. I was the one who was cheated on, not you!” I argue back.

  “You don’t get the right to tell me how to feel!” she screams. This is how I expected her to react. But still, I understand why she is doing it. I wish I could do the same, but I can’t. I don’t want Asher to see how hurt I really am.

  “And you don’t have the right to tell Asher how he can feel, either,” I yell.

  “This was a mistake. I should have waited until I could straighten out the ticket.” She’s grumbling as she sits back down. “I should have…” Her voice trails off as she retakes her seat to stare out the window. I don’t see her, and I somehow know she’s doing it.

  “Don’t let anyone make you feel guilty for your emotions, Asher. Not even me.” I really don’t care if she hears me or not.

  He’s quiet again, thoughtful. I remember what he was like when I first met him. If he is broken again because of her, she will hear about it from me. I will sacrifice my own heart, if I have to, to make sure no one hurts him again. I’ll do whatever it takes.

  Because I love him, whether he feels the same way about me or not.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “You can’t stay up here forever,” my butler says sternly, as he hovers in the doorway of my home office. It’s been two days since the three of us returned. I haven’t left the penthouse since then, and I’m not sure if I ever will again.

  I try to ignore him and pick up my coffee cup. When I put it to my lips to take a sip, I realize it’s empty. I frown as I place the mug back onto the cup holder.

  “Your coffee cup is empty,” he observes. I shrug my response. I notice he doesn’t offer to bring me more. “You didn’t sleep last night, either.”

  “Another riveting observation,” I comment. I tend to be more sarcastic when Rowan is around. It must be contagious.

  He scoffs. “All of this over a girl? You know you’ll have to return to your office eventually.”

  “I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do.” I try to keep my voice even, but I’m sure it sounds like I’m throwing a tantrum.

  Rowan even rolls his eyes at me. “You haven’t seen Mr. Peyton since you arrived.”

  “You are a veritable fount of useless information,” I grumble.

  “I do my part,” he says, before he walks away.

  “Why do I even keep you around!” I intend to yell it, but I just mumble it to myself.

  Soon, I know why he left. I hear him speaking to someone, and I can only assume it’s Peyton. He and Charlie are the only two people who have access to the penthouse, along with myself, Rowan, and Anna the housekeeper. Charlie doesn’t even know her ID card will get her to this floor yet. But I’m sure, if she really wanted to see me, she would figure it out.

  I hear footsteps in the hallway, and I glance up to find Peyton leaning against the door jam. “I’m surprised you didn’t cancel my access,” he says with an obvious frown.

  “Why would I? As you reminded me several times over the weekend, you are my boyfriend.” I try not to look away as I say it, but my eyes stray back to my computer screen.

  “Are you sure? Because you don’t seem to feel like I do.” He steps into my office, and takes a seat in an overstuffed white chair to the left of the desk. I wanted this room to look somewhat normal, and not completely professional. His chair sits to the right of what looks like a working window. It’s not, of course, because we ar
e fifteen stories off the ground.

  “Why do we have to label it? Why can’t we just enjoy each other, and spend…”

  “Spend time together?” he finishes my sentence, one eyebrow arched.

  I glare at him for several moments, before I answer. “Yes.” He stares at me for a moment, waiting for more. If he thinks he can read me so easily, why do we even need to have conversations?

  “And?” he prompts.

  I think about not answering him. I think about staying inside my shell. But I’m not that person any more. I’m different. “Why do we have to label it?”

  “You wanted to label it with Charlie,” he counters.

  “Why do you have to be so jealous of Charlie? Why can’t you understand I want you both? Why is that so hard to believe?” I’m raising my voice, and I don’t like it. I don’t want to have this conversation become contentious.

  Apparently though, he wants to argue. I can see it in the change deep within his hazel eyes. They get a little more green when he’s mad. “Why did you offer her a relationship? You’ve only just started sleeping together!”

  I turn away from him. “Because my relationship with Charlie is different,” I reply.

  “Because she’s a woman,” he practically spits out.

  “Because she has a child,” I explain.

  He becomes silent then. There are no witty retorts coming, no jealous angry words. Just thoughtful silence. “She was hurt by the father,” he finally says.

  “How anyone could cheat on the mother of their child, and leave her to take care of the baby on her own, is beyond me.” I finally look at Peyton, and he’s staring forward, avoiding my eyes. “I wanted her to know from the beginning that I didn’t only want sex from her. I wanted to reassure her that I wasn’t just using her.”

  “And you think I ruined that,” he murmurs.

  “I think that you made it harder for her to trust me.”