He hesitates and his uneasiness is a visible mask upon his face. “I want to be transparent with you about what has happened in my life. I need you to understand why I have specific… needs.”
I thought that I was going to be the uneasy one, but this man is stressed out. For some unknown reason he makes me want to bring calm to his storm. “I want to hear everything that you have to say, but please understand that I’m not owed any kind of explanation about your needs. Your desires are what they are, and that’s all that I must be told.”
“But I want to explain. It’ll make me feel better if I do.”
Oh, I get it now. He needs to clear his conscience. “I’m listening.”
“I’m a widower.”
Many of the Inamorata clients are. There’s nothing surprising about that.
“I’m sorry. How long has your wife been gone?”
“Three months.”
Only three months and he’s out cruising for a woman? What a dick. It’s no wonder that he needs to clear his conscience.
“Was your wife ill?”
“No, she was killed in a car accident.”
“I’m sure that must have been very difficult losing your wife without any kind of warning. Do you have children?”
“I don’t have children, but my wife had a daughter.”
“Poor girl. It’s a painful thing to lose your mother.” Even if she is a shitty mother who mistreats you.
“You must think that I’m selfish for being here so soon after my wife’s death.”
I sure do.
Come on, Cait. I mean Lou. Remember your training. You can’t let him see you forming a negative opinion of him. “It’s not my job to judge or question your reason for being here.”
“Things aren’t as they sound.”
“I’m sure they’re not.” Okay. That might have come out sounding a little judgy. I need to watch my tone.
“My wife was cheating on me.”
Well, I guess that explains why he doesn’t feel obligated to wait longer before seeking the company of another woman. “I get it now.”
“The marriage was over. I was in the early stages of filing for divorce, but our friends and family didn’t know. And since everyone was still under the impression that we were happy, I was thrown into the role of being the devastated, grieving husband.”
Ohhh. “I see how that could happen and how it would be a problem for you.”
“I stopped loving her some time ago, but I still grieved losing her.”
“Of course, you did. Anyone would.”
“I chose to not tell our friends and family the truth about our marriage. It felt pointless to put them through more pain when no good could come from it.”
What a selfless and compassionate act it was to keep his wife’s secret because he didn’t want to put others through more pain. “That was very considerate.”
“That consideration has bitten me in the arse. Everyone treats me as though my life is at a standstill without my wife. They coddle me, making it impossible for me to move forward. I’m fucking miserable. I need companionship, but they would not keep their heids if I brought a new woman into my life so soon after Mina’s death.”
I understand his situation, but I don’t think that I can help him. He wants more than I’m willing to give. “I see what you want but that’s not what I do.” I point to my left shoulder. “No pink rosebud.”
One corner of his mouth tugs downward. “Aye, I noticed after we sat down.”
“I’m sorry that I’m not what you’re looking for, but Cora will find another inamorata for you, one who meets your needs.”
He reaches across the table and cups his hand over mine. “Wait. Please don’t go.”
I still and look at him. He lets go of my hand and sits taller in his seat. “I don’t want another inamorata. I want you.”
Ah, man. It’s more than a little flattering to hear those words come from him, but the flattery doesn’t lessen my integrity. “I can’t give what you want.”
“Just hear me out before you say no.”
I hesitate a moment and nod. “All right, I’m listening.”
“Give me three months. Let me be your only client during that time. Get to know me like you would if we were dating. Begin by forming an emotional connection with me and let it grow. If it progresses into a physical relationship, don’t fight it. Let it happen.”
He makes it sound way less jaded than it is, as though our relationship would be something real. But I know it wouldn’t be. That isn’t what this is about. “I’m the wrong inamorata for you.”
“I can’t lie; I want the girlfriend experience. All of it. But only if our relationship grows into a place where that’s what you want also.”
He doesn’t understand. “I can’t be intimate with someone outside of a committed relationship. That’s not who I am.”
“We’ll have a relationship, and it’s going to be within the realms of a commitment. It’ll actually be more of a commitment than you’ve ever known before because we will have a binding contract.”
He has this way of spinning his words and making me see the flip side of the coin without even turning it over. “You negotiate like an attorney.”
“No. I’m an investment fund manager at a large firm.”
He deals with money. Probably big money. I bet he’s rich as sin. Most of the Inamorata clients are.
“You’ve made some good arguments, but I need time to think about this.”
His smile widens. “Thank you for not saying no.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
“When will you give me your answer?”
Anxious much? “In three days.”
He nods, his smile fading. I’m amused by the way he doesn’t even try to disguise his impatience. Reminds me of a child but this man must be in his thirties. I can tell by the small patches in his facial scruff occasionally catching the light, casting a glint.
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-three.” Eleven years older than me. “And you?”
“Twenty-two.”
He groans under his breath. “That’s young.”
“My circumstances forced me to grow up quickly. I’m mature for my age, Mr. Hutcheson.”
“You cannot call me Mr. Hutcheson.”
I don’t suppose that he would want me to be so formal since he’s hoping to fuck me. “Maxwell?”
“My friends call me Max.”
Cora insists that we maintain formality with a client in the early stages. She says that becoming too friendly, too quickly can initiate problems. Some men will perceive friendly and informal behavior as an invitation to treat the inamorata as though their relationship isn’t a business transaction.
“May I call you Hutch?” Yes, it’s a little friendly sounding but still a distinction from the shortened name used by his friends and loved ones.
“Hutch?” He smiles and nods. “Hutch. I like it.”
“I do too.” It fits him.
“Will you let me take you out tomorrow night? I don’t think it’s fair to ask you to make a decision like this without spending time with me.”