The Muse's Undoing

I snap out of it, shaking my head quickly. “No.”

“I’m here if you do. You know that, right? I’m not ghosting, and I’ll always pick up the phone when you call.”

“Yeah.” I know that. I’ve pulled back from us, too.

Realizing that, something else clicks. I know what I need to do when I get upstairs, and while it won’t be fun, I think I’ll sleep better once it’s over. “I do. Sorry for being so dramatic.”

“Let me get the elevator for you.”

While he waits with me for it to arrive, I lean on him more than I do my cane. He gives my hand a short squeeze as the doors slide open. “See you soon.”

I nod and step inside.

Ravenna’s apartment is exactly two floors below mine. #907. It has nearly the same layout as my place, but hers has personality. Eclectic art in the form of paintings, figurines, jewel-toned furniture and light fixtures. It’s colorful and warm, sexy in an obvious way from the plush sapphire sofa to the topaz velvet chaise overlooking the park.

“Oh my god! What an amazing surprise! Hey babe!”

Christ.

She throws her arms around me once the door is closed. I try not to flinch and push her away. I hate hugs. Even Nicole knew that. On her tiptoes, Raven buries her face in my neck and starts kissing it. “God, you smell so good.”

My cock stirs, not unexpectedly. She’s sexy, and she knows it. The red dress was one thing, but she’s equally hot in her leggings and tight-fitting t-shirt.

I extract myself from her grip before the kissing goes any further, or I get confused about what I’m doing here. “Can I make you a drink?” she asks as she lets me in.

“No, I came to talk.”

“Oh.” Her uncertainty is evident. “Okay.” She leads the way down the hall, and I follow her to the living area. She pads into the kitchen in fuzzy socks, and I wonder whether I should sit or help her out.

She takes two glasses from a shelf and uses a corkscrew to open a bottle of red wine. Meanwhile, I notice a half-finished green smoothie on one of the end tables. It looks disgusting.

“You wanna sit?” she asks approaching and handing me the wineglass I didn’t ask for.

I have a seat on the tufted sofa. She sits down, cross-legged, facing me, back straight and eyes wide with uncertainty. I take a hearty sip of wine before setting it down and turning to face her. I’ve never broken up with anyone in my life. I have no clue how to do this.

“How’s work been?” Off to a great start, Fischer.

Her green eyes sparkle with delight when I ask, and I immediately know I’ve fucked this up. “Sooo good,” she gushes. “I discovered this new artist from Staten Island—who knew, right?—and she’s incredible. She does the most amazing things with burned paper. You have to come see it. I feel like you’d love it—being a writer and everything.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“How ‘bout you? I watch you every night you’re on. You’re the best anchor they have. They’re so lucky you came home. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always gotten my news from CPNC, but you just have this wry, wonderful way of putting things. You make me feel, like, ten times smarter.”

“You’re laying it on thick,” I tell her.

She shrugs. “I’m just saying—I feel like you’re exactly where you belong. It’s okay to take a compliment.”

“I appreciate it, but listen, I didn’t come by to talk about work.”

She lifts her brows, and a smile I recognize too well tilts half her mouth. She sets her wine aside and leans in. “Oh, I know exactly why you’re here.”

“Uh…no.” I put a hand on her knee and give my head a slight shake. “We talked about keeping this casual.”

“Right…”

“You’ve been texting a lot,” I tell her.

She rolls her eyes. “You’re just on my mind. Sue me. I’d love to see more of you. Casually…”