Reese 

Dressing for this meeting has been difficult. I don't want to look like I tried too hard, but I don't want to look like I didn't try at all.

Although I absolutely shouldn't care what JC thinks when he sees me, I absolutely do. Which makes me a terribly shitty human being, right?

I opt for simple: dark denim jeans, a white button-down with a multicolored scarf around my neck. Brown suede ankle boots with a bit of a heel and a lined, brown leather jacket (not the same one from the other night) complete the look. 

Today's lipstick isn't red, but kind of an eggplant-y purple. My hair is out, though. Like it was the night I spent with him. And maybe there's a part of me that hopes he makes that connection. 

I am absolutely a really horribly shitty person.

Because why else would I care what JC will think when he sees me? And why else would I actually want him to think about the night that he spent with me? The night he spent cheating on his seemingly very nice girlfriend. 

And that's another thing; now that I've met her and spent some time talking to her, I can't create a scenario in my head where she's frigid or a bitch or any of the other narratives douche-y, cheating men offer as to why they're douche-y and cheating. 

But I've also been thinking about the fact that when he came back to my office, he never tried to offer any excuses. He said he was sorry, and then he left. And deep down, or maybe not so deep down, I want that to count for something. 

So on top of being a spectacularly shitty person, I'm pathetic. 

At sixty-two degrees, the weather is mild for October in Chicago and it's evident in the amount of people out and about, crowding the city streets. It's fairly busy for a Tuesday, but traffic flows smoothly enough that I pull up to their hotel after a mere fifteen minute drive. I said that I would pass it on the way to the properties, but the truth is, I would practically pass it almost no matter where I was going because it's only a few blocks away from my condo. 

Incidentally, each of the places Tia wants to see today are within three square blocks of my building. But I don't plan on mentioning that. 

They're staying at The Peninsula and this place is unreal. I went to a wedding here last year; it's luxurious and opulent and a bunch of other words that translate into expensive. It takes major coins to stay here. I've been fortunate to make a good living in real estate, and with our clientele and the price point we generally operate at, the housing crunch that happened a few years ago never really affected us. But a week in a hotel where rooms start at $400 a night, and suites start at nearly twice that, is way outside the scope of all practicality for me. 

I find myself wondering who's footing the bill--Tia or JC. Now that I know he's famous and rich, it's anybody's guess. But before I can get too deep into my internal debate I see them as I pull up to the curb. 

They're standing outside and I almost want to laugh; Tia and I are dressed almost identically. Her jeans are lighter in color, but similar in style to mine. Instead of ankle boots hers are knee-high. Her button-down is navy. And her jacket, almost exactly the same style as mine, is black instead of brown. 

Her lovely hair is wound into a knot on the top of her head, and she's wearing delicate gold hoops in her ears with minimal makeup. 

I'm just going to admit it now: Tia White is gorgeous. Drop dead, traffic-stoppingly gorgeous. She's the kind of woman that make men stumble into walls because they're staring at her and not paying attention to where they're walking. She's about my height, but other than that she could be a supermodel. I want to hate her, but on top of being beautiful she's really likable. 

Which makes me want to hate her more, frankly.

It also makes me wonder, again, what the hell is wrong with JC that he would cheat on her. Which makes me hate him more, too. 

I'm bitter. 

As I wait at the curb, two car lengths away from where they both stand, I focus my attention on her so that I can avoid looking at him. But he's the one who spots me first. 

Tia's head is bent, phone in hand. I see JC's head moving back and forth slightly, like he's scanning the horizon, and then he stops in my direction. I wave, reluctantly, and he touches Tia's arm to get her attention. 

They come toward my SUV together and, like an attentive boyfriend, he opens the passenger door for her. It makes me want to vomit, frankly. My stomach is in knots and I'm regretting the fact that all I've put on it today is coffee and acetaminophen. This is going to be an unutterably long afternoon. 

I can't help but notice how motherfucking good he looks. 

He's in the same jacket as the other night, this time with faded black jeans that fit him splendidly. They're tight, but not uncomfortably so. The way the denim wraps around his thighs has me licking my lips and thinking things I certainly don't need to be thinking. Like the fact that I know what his thighs look like, and feel like, beneath those pants. He's wearing a charcoal colored baseball cap on his head with a logo I don't recognize, and as much as I hate that I notice it, he's looking particularly sexy with a little bit of scruff around his mouth, jaw, and chin. 

I have to almost physically shake myself to redirect my eyes--and thoughts--elsewhere.

I think he says, "Hi," but he's so quiet and Tia jumps in the seat and immediately begins talking so I'm not totally sure. And I don't care anyway.

"Hi!" She surprises me by leaning across the armrest and giving me an enthusiastic hug. "Thank you so much for fitting us in."

I hug her back, trying not to come across as awkward as I feel. "Oh, it's really no problem."

"The whole point of me being here this week was for the sole purpose of finding a place to live but I just got a bunch of last-minute has-to-be-done-now work and I was terrified I wouldn't be able to fit in a single property visit before we go back to L.A."

Such a shame, I think caustically. What I say is, "Well, I'm glad it all worked out then." Lies. "And who knows; maybe you'll find the perfect place today!"

I sure the hell hope so because the sooner I get her to closing, the sooner I can put JC and this whole stupid situation behind me. 

On the way to the first address traffic picks up and we do a lot of sitting still, but so far it's not as bad as I thought it would be, being in the car with both of them. Tia's doing most of the talking, actually. Asking me if I've been here, or done that, or know this. Every now and again she points a place out to JC, asking if he remembers something about it. 

For his part, JC is almost completely silent. His responses to her questions are practically grunted. I've been sneaking glances at him every now and then, and it's kind of unnerving because it seems like every time I look back at him, he's looking back at me. 

OK, I can't actually see his eyes because of his sunglasses, but I swear I can feel the weight of his gaze. And I know how ridiculous that sounds, but it's true. 

He looks annoyed. Or maybe not quite annoyed, but there's something on his mind. Even with his eyes covered, there's something about the set of his jaw...

This is so crazy. One night and half a day spent with the guy doesn't mean I know anything about him. 

When we're a half block away I talk up the location. How far it is from the lake. What restaurants and bars and shops are in the area. How it's close to this line of the 'L' and near these bus stops. Not that Tia strikes me as a woman who's ever ridden a city bus. 

I recently sold a condo in this same building so much of the information--number of units, parking details, HOA fees, and the like--is still fresh in my head. I rattle it all off as we park, exit the car, and then enter the building. 

JC's hanging out in the background, a couple of steps behind Tia and me. He's also still not talking. Unfortunately for me he's taken off his sunglasses now and I can't help the way my eyes keep flitting toward his. Because he's looking down he doesn't notice. And for that, at least, I'm thankful. 

I switch into full on professional mode once we get into the unit, and for a little while I'm able to put all thoughts of JC out of my head. 

OK, that's not quite true. But I'm at least able to do my job despite all of the other things I'm thinking. And for now, that's good enough. I can do this, I think. Get through these viewings and get away from them. 

I've got this.

JC

We're in the last condo of the four Tia wanted to see. She and Reese are walking around while Reese is giving her the particulars: square footage, amenities, and all of that. I'm sort of following behind them, much more slowly. 

The place is nice, three bedrooms and new construction. Everything is upscale from the chrome fixtures, to the marble countertops, to the stone and bamboo floors. I hear Tia ooh'ing and ah'ing from another room while I stop in the kitchen. 

She invited me into the conversation about the previous places. Wanted to know what I thought about a fireplace, or an overhead fan. Is the bathroom big enough, and what do I think of the backsplash. I've told her before that I don't have much of an opinion because not only am I not buying the place with her, but I don't plan on spending that much time in whatever place it happens to be. 

We fought about that one a little, me admitting that I wasn't planning on making the trip to Chicago that frequently. But my work--my life--is in L.A. and she knows that. I told her I didn't understand why she assumed I'd follow her to Chicago whenever she wanted me to, but that was a lie. I understand completely. 

In our relationship, I've kind of always done what Tia wanted. In the beginning, it was easy because what she wanted was small. Moroccan for dinner instead of Japanese. The latest action movie instead of the newest thriller. To sleep on the right side of the bed instead of the left. 

Her requests became a little more invasive over time. A vacation to the Maldives instead of skiing in Aspen. Labor Day weekend with her family instead of with my friends. And by the way, when we go here could I please not wear that?

Thinking about it creates a dull ache in the back of my head, so I push the thoughts away.

She seems to like this place a lot and I'm glad. I'll be even more glad if she doesn't ask my opinion about it. 

Reese has ignored me, and I keep thinking about what Eli said to me last night. Tia's the client and I'm just...the client's forgettable tagalong boyfriend. Persona non grata. That's who I am and who I will be to her, forever. 

That fact, because I'm pretty sure it's an undeniable one, makes my stomach hurt. And again I want to redirect my thoughts elsewhere. But it's hard as hell. Especially while I'm also actively trying to avoid noticing Reese. And that's stupid because I can't help but notice her. 

She keeps breezing past me, unintentionally a little too close a few times. I've gotten several whiffs of her soap and it makes me feel equal parts guilty and horny. Guilty because it makes me horny. But I smell her, and then all of the things we did Saturday and Sunday are playing in my mind on repeat and I have to force myself to focus on where I am and who I'm with.

She looks great. She's not in anything fancy--jeans and boots, a leather jacket similar to the one from the other night. But it's the way the jeans fit her that has me trying not to think all of the really dirty things I'm thinking. Her ass is great in those jeans. And the way they wrap around her sexy little legs so perfectly only makes me think of what it felt like when her sexy little legs were wrapped around my waist a couple of nights ago. And how much I enjoyed being between them. 

Her lipstick is dark and purple and, well, now that I know exactly what those lips are capable of, it's hard for me not to think about getting her lipstick all messed up. 

Fuck. I have to stop this. 

She said she wouldn't mention anything to Tia and she's been true to her word. She's being a super knowledgeable realtor right now, and there's nothing about the way she's acting that would raise any suspicion and I appreciate that. But I'm worried that maybe I won't be able to play it off so casually. Mostly because I keep catching myself watching her.

I like the way she moves. I noticed it first when I was dancing with her Saturday; there's this elegance to everything she does. I noticed it again when she was moving on top of me, later. And it's not just sexual; she's graceful, even as she leans against a countertop, pointing something out to Tia.

I unlock the French doors to the balcony that overlooks the busy city street below. It's a little chilly, but I don't even really feel it right now. I'm too preoccupied with wondering how to handle this situation because I've never had to do anything like this before. 

Awkward doesn't even begin to describe what this is. 

I rode in the backseat on the way here, not really saying anything. Hating and loving how even the inside of her car smells like her. I watched her from the rear view mirror which isn't quite as creepy as it sounds because I was wearing sunglasses the whole time and she couldn't see my eyes. 

But I just kept wondering what she was thinking. Wondering what I would think of me if I were in her position. Which takes me back to what Eli says. And I'm back to the beginning of this whole stupid cycle. I hear Tia and Reese re-enter the room and I leave the balcony, closing the door behind me.

"Well," Reese is saying while she also scrolls through something on her phone, "unless you have any other questions about the properties we've looked at today, I can get you guys back to your hotel."

Tia stands next to me and loops her arm through mine before addressing Reese. "Do you have another appointment soon?" And although she asks this casually, warning bells are going off in my head and I can already tell that I'm not going to enjoy what comes next. 

Reese drops her phone into the bag that's slung over her shoulder, and then looks up at Tia. "No," she says absently. "I've got a couple of hours before my next client."

My stomach drops as Tia catches my eye, smiles, and then looks back at Reese. "Great. Because I'm starving." 

Fuck.