“Sure thing.” But I knew he’d do whatever he damned well pleased.

Still holding his hand, I sank into the chair my mother vacated when she set off for the nurse’s station, certain that they weren’t taking care of her husband properly and determined to set them straight.

“What are you watching?” I wasn’t used to having to carry on a conversation with my father, and this seemed like a safe start.

“Judge Bernice.” He pursed his lips. “She’s pretty good. A tough ole bird. I like that.” He grinned and turned his focus back to the feisty, hulking woman on television in a black robe, who was admonishing a stripper for loaning her unemployed boyfriend her car and five hundred dollars and expecting him to pay it back.

We watched the show until my father fell asleep again. He dropped my hand and I sat back, watching him sleep with the TV droning on in the background. Soon my mother came back, and she and I talked for a while. When our conversation came to a lull, I stood up and hugged her. “Tell Daddy goodbye for me.”

“I will. He’ll be fine. Maybe a scare like this is just what he needs to make him pay attention to his health. You know?”

Patting her on the hand, I nodded in agreement. “Maybe so. Remember to take care of yourself, too.”

Bunny dragged a hand over her perfect hair. “Well, I’ll try. I had to cancel my appointment with Rinaldo this afternoon to be here, but he says he can squeeze me in at the end of the week if I can make it.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I made a face at her.

“I know.” She batted her false eyelashes at me.

“Oh, Mother,” I sighed.

“What?” she asked, doing her best impersonation of complete innocence.

I gave her a fake smile. “Nothing. I love you. Call me when you have an update on Daddy.”

“I will,” she said, picking up the remote control from the bed. As I left the room, I heard the television switch from Daddy’s court show to a soap opera.

The walk down the sterile hallway seemed to go on forever.

My parents were old. When had that happened? I wasn’t ready for this new stage in my life. I always thought I’d have kids by the time my parents’ health started to fail. The whole thing made me want to reevaluate my life. What was I doing anyway?

I wanted a family of my own, but I was divorced and not even really on the market. I had some bizarre, albeit hot, relationship with Quentin, but that was more about fun and excitement than long-term commitment. Not exactly the stable base you need to build a relationship.

But I was addicted to him. The man was like a drug, and I would do anything for a fix. Not exactly healthy…

I mulled things over during the drive home. When I got home, I made myself some spaghetti. As I sat down to eat, I realized I’d turned my phone off when I entered the hospital, but had forgotten to turn it back on after I left. On the voicemail, there was a message from Spencer saying how sorry he was to hear about my dad.

Feeling vulnerable and eager for someone to talk with, I called him back.

“You okay, Sophie?” he asked.

“I guess. Thanks for calling.”

“You know I always liked your dad. Great guy. He’s going to be okay?”

“Yes. Mom thinks this may be the wake-up call he needs to take his medicine and eat healthier.”

“That’s good. I hope so.”

Suddenly it occurred to me that I hadn’t told Spencer my dad was ill. “Hey, how did you find out my dad was in the hospital?”

“Your mom called me.”

“She did?” My blood started to boil. What was my mother trying to do?

“Yeah, but don’t be mad at her. She’s just not used to the divorce yet.”

I took a deep breath. “Yeah, okay,” I responded, knowing that my mother didn’t do anything without a reason.

For the next few minutes Spencer and I carried on an awkward conversation, caught between the old feelings of belonging together the way married couples do, and the new status quo where, in actuality, we had no real ties to each other. In the world we presently inhabited, there was no reason at all for Spencer to care about my dad or how I was feeling, other than it was his habit to care. A habit that would eventually fade.

I thanked Spencer again for his concern and hung up, wishing I could have the same conversation with Quentin.

A few days later, I was talking to Quentin. We were discussing our incredible sessions in Houston. Thinking we were on the same page, I said, “You know, since we had such a great time, maybe we could do that more often?” My timing might not have been great, but I’d been ruminating about our situation ever since we said goodbye to each other in Houston.

He paused, then said, “Let’s focus on what we can do over the internet.”

“If it’s too much for you to come down here, perhaps I could fly up there. To see you.”

“Now that we’ve met, I’d like to do some cam sessions.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t expected him to shut down the possibility so rapidly.

My heart sank. I still wasn’t comfortable with the idea of doing cam sessions, and it felt like we were going backward instead of forward. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him, I just didn’t trust the security of the internet. Sites constantly got hacked by one bunch or another, and I feared I’d lose my job if anything related to my secret life were made public.

“I don’t see that happening,” I said flatly.

“Oh. Well, I hoped that meeting each other would change things.” His voice was sharp, and suddenly I wanted to cry.

“Me too.”

The conversation went downhill from there. I went through the motions, spanking myself like he asked me to, but I couldn’t get in the mood. He must have sensed it because he cut our session short.

When we hung up, a lump started to form in my throat.

What had I thought anyway? That because we had a nice weekend together, he was suddenly going to want to move to Texas and see me every day? As much as I’d tried to keep my expectations under control, they’d run amok. Now that I’d experienced what it was like to be with him, I wanted to be with him more rather than less, which made the distance between us a bigger problem than it had been before.

The next day I sent him an email apologizing for sulking during our session the night before. When I didn’t hear back from him for two days, I started to worry so I sent him a text.

A few hours later he responded tersely that he was fine, saying he was otherwise occupied on a business trip.

Stung, I set down my phone.

He must be really pissed at me. He’d never been short with me in that way. Sure, he abused the heck out of me in other ways, but he’d never been completely unreachable before, or irritated with me for contacting him. That’s how he acted now—annoyed.

I sent him back a text to please call me when he returned from his business trip.

For the next week, I waited and waited. I’d almost given up on him when he called.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy, Sophie,” he said. “But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I don’t think we should continue with your training.”

“Why? What do you mean? Did I do something wrong?” As much as I’d seen this coming, now that he actually said the words, I panicked.

“You have demonstrated that you are too distracted to be compliant with your training.”

“What does that mean?”

He sighed wearily. “It means that we have to stop. You’re not happy, and if you’re not happy the training is pointless.”

“But I need you!” I whined, feeling like I was floundering in the midst of a landslide. Everything was crashing down around me. I could see I was headed for a disaster, but I was helpless to stop it.

“You don’t need me. You just think you do. If you decide to continue your journey, I have no doubt you will find a Dom who will enjoy training you as much as I have.”