Page 19 of Dr. Bad Boy

As soon as he finishes his first bite, he starts in on me. “What the fuck was that 'can't wait' bit on the phone?”

“It's a long story…” But it’s an opening. I’d spent the whole time between leaving Violet’s office and arriving here trying to think of a good way to broach the subject.

“I’ve got plenty of time. The PM is in a supper meeting with the speaker. Some shit went down in the House of Commons today and, well…it’s going to take a while.”

Wolfing down a slice of pizza, I gather my thoughts, then launch into my pathetic tale of woe.

By the time I’m done, Lachlan is howling with laughter. "How did you not realize sooner that she wasn't a call girl?"

Fuck this noise. That's all the help he can give me? The gloves are off and I come out swinging. “I don't even know why I'm talking to you about this. You can't even get your shit together with Beth.”

Lachlan’s eyes darken. “You’re right, I can’t. But this isn’t about me. What exactly is going on with you, Max?”

“I just told you. Then you laughed.”

“No, you gave me a chronology of events. What’s going on withyou? You’re a guy who literally goes from regularly outsourcing his sexual gratification to only being interested in one woman overnight—faithful, even. You’ve broken rules for her. Why?”

That’s the fucking question I’ve been somewhat successfully avoiding for the last three months. “Damnit, Lachlan, I came for some simple dating advice, not therapy from an armchair psychologist.”

“If you were truly looking for simple dating advice, you’d have consulted the internet. It’s jam-packed with information, and you’re a fucking rock star when it comes to research.”

"I'm pretty sure it's normal to be attracted to a woman and want to spend more time with her."

"With all due respect, when have you ever been normal?"

I reach for another piece of pizza. Violet ate all the bread, and green beans and chicken medallions have never filled me up. "Now's as good a time as any to give it a go."

“That may be, but until you understand where it’s coming from, and why, are you going to be able to do the right thing when you get the girl?"

I stare at him. I hadn't thought that far ahead. Get the girl? I just want another night with her. Or two. Three sounds pretty good, too.

The truth is, that night with Violet had been incredible. At first, I'd just been reluctant to overwrite that experience with another. And then the dreams started.

"I can't get her out of my head," I finally say, less cocky now. "I think about her all the time. And I know that's not normal, I know it's some kind of crush. But it's taken over and I need to get my life back under control."

Lachlan shakes his head. "That sounds like your problem, not hers. Figure out what you can do for her, and then you'll know what to do."

"Is that your plan with Beth?"

He gives me another hard look. "Yeah. I haven't figured out what I can do for her yet. And don't give me some bullshit pat answer about taking her over my knee, you fucking sadist. Real life is more complicated than that."

Exactly why I've avoided it as much as possible my entire adult life.

The conversationwith Lachlan has me more worked up, not less. Maybe I should have turned to the internet for advice. I can just see my post on Fetlife now…or not.

Fuck!

I need new friends, at least on the advice front. Gavin is Mr. Moonlight-and-Roses and Lachlan is channelling Sigmund Fucking Freud. I briefly consider turning to Tate Nilsson for help, because every time we've played hockey together we've found yet another shared thing in common, but he’s probably even more ill-equipped than I am when it comes to matters of the heart. And I'm pretty sure he's on an away-game road trip right now. Can't call him up and ruin his NHL hockey game with my love life problems.

Love life problems?

I need to keep this focused.

I've gotkinklife problems. As in, I no longer have a kink life because I'm being fucking mopey about a love life I don't have, either.

Something needs to change. I grab a beer and head down to the playroom I’ve been setting up in my new house. There’s still plenty to do before I’m ready to host my first party—because when your best friend is the prime minister, you can't very well hit up a sex club. So you bring the sex club to you. I had a great reputation for hosting private parties in Vancouver and I'm looking forward to resuming that tradition here in Ottawa.

And maybe some manual labour will help take my mind off Violet.

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