Page 68 of Counting On You

“It’s not my business,” Kade says. “But I think this is a question you should ask yourself, and you obviously haven’t done it yet. So, I’ll ask it for you. What’s so special about him?”

“He’s an ice hockey player.”

He doesn’t even blink. “And?”

“And he’s going to be famous,” I say in one breath.

I expect him to be impressed. Maybe even a little jealous, but Kade still doesn’t even blink.

Eventually he says, “That’s a hobby or a profession, Vicky. While being a celebrity may only apply to a fragment of the population, it certainly doesn’t make him more special than the rest of us.” I open my mouth to dispute his statement when he holds up a finger, silencing me. “I’ll put it the other way around. It’s like you asking me what’s my profession and me telling you that I’m a good person. Get it?”

I stare at him as I let his words sink in. I never saw it this way.

“His profession is all that’s special about him?” Kade prompts.

“No, he’s also hot and I love him,” I stammer.

His brows shoot up. “And?”

“And nothing.” My temper’s flaring at his inquisition, which doesn’t seem to go anywhere.

“Why don’t I believe you?” he says. “He treats you the way only a jerk would do.”

“How do you know? Have you gone through my search history?” I can’t help but sound accusatory.

“No. I wouldn’t do that.” Kade pours himself another glass. I watch him take a few sips.

“Do you think I’m attractive?” I ask as he puts his glass on the table.

“What?”

“You heard me.” My voice comes out low but determined. “Am I attractive enough for you to want to fuck me?”

He eyes me warily. “Why are you asking? Is this some kind of test?”

“I’ve just been wondering if there’s something wrong with me, that’s all.”

“There is nothing wrong with you, Vicky. Anyone who says so should get his eyes checked.” His tone is soft, almost intimate. “Did Bruce tell you that you weren’t attractive? Did he?” He doesn’t look at me, but I can tell he’s pissed.

“No.”

He stares at me, his gaze ablaze. “Tell me the truth.”

I shake my head. “No.”

He doesn’t believe me—I can tell from the way his mouth tightens.

I take a sip from my glass and let the alcohol burn its way down my throat.

“He never said that I’m unattractive or anything like that, but…” I stop, grasping at words to communicate the ugly truth.

“But what?” Kade’s voice is soft, encouraging. I feel my inhibitions crumbling.

“We’ve never had sex.” The words are out before I can stop them.

I cringe at how strange it all sounds—two adults in a relationship who’ve never had sex with each other.

“He’s never had sex with you?” he asks in disbelief.

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