Can we ride the elevator together while I hold back everything I want to whisper in her ear?

I don’t like RB any less now that I know it’s Emma. The feelings might be pulsing stronger than ever, piece by piece falling into place, a neat arrangement finally making sense.

My ego won’t be the only thing bruised and battered when, naturally, she trudges away from our agreement. I won’t blame her, either, and I’ll have to pick up the pieces of a crushed relationship left behind.

Relationship, I scoff to myself.

There’s a word I never thought would be in my vocabulary. Fuck buddies? Sure, I’ve had plenty. One-night stands? Absolutely. I love ’em. Spring fling? Summer fling? Been there, done that. A plethora of times. Quick bang sessions only lasting an hour in the back of my truck, in the bathroom at a bar, and in my office during an extended lunch break? Check, check, and check.

But relationship?

The entire decade of my twenties was dedicated to moving up the ranks at my job and then enjoying life, which meant enjoying women. Lots of women. However I wanted them. Respectfully, consensually, and safely, of course.

Settling down with one person isn’t what I’m afraid of. I would never want to share a woman who’s mine while I’m hers, unless it was a fantasy she wanted to act out.

Truth be told, I’m terrified of failing. It’s one of my biggest fears in life, and the driving force behind me staying far, far, away from any woman who wants me to settle down. I don’t know how to be a good partner.

Scratch that.

I don’t know how to be a partner at all. I’m designed to give a woman a few mind-blowing orgasms, help her forget about the problems in her life for the night, and then go on my merry way. That shit is easy. I do it well. I’m fucking fantastic at it. Anything deeper than acting on physical attraction is daunting. Intimidating. It requires remembering birthdays and anniversaries. Planning date nights and agreeing to be a plus one to a wedding eighteen months away, a permanence to the obligation as the RSVP gets dropped in the mail. Scary shit. Shit I’ve never in my wildest dreams considered doing.

And RB… Emma… She deserves more than a romp in the sheets or a couple of rounds. She deserves the world. A kingdom to rule and a knight in shining armor who would slay a dragon and swim across a moat to protect her from life’s evilest villains.

There’s no way in hell she’ll allow an asshole like me to be the one to reign by her side.

My phone buzzes and I snatch it off the desk.

RB: Can you meet?