Eric woke to the pleasant warmth of a woman pressed against his side.
It took him a confused moment to remember where he was. Bianca's apartment. The client appointment. Five hours of intense activity that had left them both thoroughly exhausted.
'Shit,' Eric thought, checking his phone. '7:34 PM.'
He'd slept for hours. The appointment had started at 3 PM. He'd meant to leave by 8 PM at the latest to get ready for dinner with Sarah.
And dinner was supposed to be at 8 PM.
'Double shit.'
Eric carefully extracted himself from Bianca's embrace, trying not to wake her. She murmured something in her sleep but didn't wake, her face peaceful and satisfied.
He gathered his scattered clothes quietly, dressing in the semi-darkness. His phone showed multiple missed calls from Sarah and increasingly worried text messages.
Sarah: "Still at your appointment?"
Sarah: "Eric? Dinner was at 8."
Sarah: "Are you okay?"
Sarah: "Please tell me you're just running late and not ignoring me again."
Sarah: "Eric seriously I'm worried"
'Fuck,' Eric thought, guilt twisting in his stomach. He texted back quickly.
Eric: "I'm so sorry. Appointment ran way longer than expected. On my way now. Give me 30 minutes?"
He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, then paused. Bianca was still asleep, looking more relaxed than she'd probably been in months. There was a contentment in her expression that made Eric feel oddly good about the work he'd done.
His phone buzzed with a notification. Banking app.
Transfer received: $3,600.00 from B. Morrison
Note: "Thank you for everything. Same time tomorrow?"
Eric's eyebrows rose. The full payment plus a request for another session. Bianca was serious about maximizing her chances this week.
He typed a quick response to her contact.
Eric: "Tomorrow works. Same time. Get some rest."
Then he was out the door, moving quickly down the hallway, taking the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. His car was where he'd left it, and Eric drove faster than was strictly legal through Stardale's evening traffic.
His phone rang. Sarah.
Eric answered on Bluetooth. "I'm on my way. I'm so sorry I'm late—"
"Where are you?" Sarah's voice was tight with worry and barely suppressed anger. "You said after your appointment. That was supposed to be done hours ago."
"It ran long," Eric said, which was technically true. "Way longer than I expected. The client needed more time."
"The client needed more time," Sarah repeated flatly. "Right. Because that's how appointments work."
Eric heard the hurt beneath the sarcasm. "Sarah, I'm really sorry. I should have texted earlier. I just... lost track of time."
"Lost track of time while having sex with someone for money," Sarah said bluntly. "That's what you're telling me. You were so busy with work that you forgot about me."
"It's not like that—"
"Then what is it like, Eric? Explain it to me. Because from where I'm sitting, you agreed to dinner, I got all dressed up, I've been waiting at this restaurant for an hour, and you were too busy fucking a client to even send a text."
The words hit like physical blows. Eric's hands tightened on the steering wheel.
"You're right," he said quietly. "You're absolutely right. I screwed up. I should have been more careful with timing, should have set boundaries with the client, should have texted you the second I knew I'd be late. I have no excuse."
Silence on the other end.
"Sarah?"
"I'm still here." Her voice was softer now, the anger draining into something sadder. "I'm at Bellamy's. The Italian place on Fourth Street. Are you actually coming or should I just go home?"
"I'm coming," Eric promised. "Fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty with traffic. Please don't leave."
Another pause. Then, "Fine. But you're buying dessert."
"Deal."
The call ended. Eric pushed the car faster, weaving through traffic with enhanced reflexes that made it easier than it should have been.
'She has every right to be angry,' he thought. 'She confessed feelings, you agreed to dinner, and then you showed up two hours late smelling like another woman.'
Because he definitely smelled like Bianca. Her perfume, her sweat, the unmistakable scent of recent sex. No amount of quick cologne in the car would completely cover it.
'This is going to be a disaster,' Eric realized. 'An absolute disaster.'
But he'd promised Sarah dinner and a conversation. And whatever else Eric Reid-Leveson was, he tried to keep his promises when it mattered.
Bellamy's appeared ahead, its warm lighting and tasteful signage marking it as one of Stardale's nicer establishments. Eric found parking two blocks away and jogged back, his enhanced stamina making the distance trivial.
He pushed through the entrance, scanning the dining room.
And there, sitting alone at a table for two by the window, was Sarah Sterling.
She'd dressed up. Eric noticed that immediately. A deep blue dress that brought out her eyes, her long red hair styled carefully, makeup applied with more care than usual. She looked beautiful, sophisticated, nothing like the athlete he'd taken to the amusement park.
And she looked hurt. That was clear too, in the set of her shoulders, the way she stared at her water glass instead of looking around.
Eric approached the table slowly, painfully aware of how he looked. Rumpled clothes, slightly disheveled hair, probably still carrying traces of his recent activities.
Sarah looked up as he arrived. Her blue eyes swept over him, cataloging everything, and something painful flickered across her face.
"Hi," Eric said lamely.
"Hi," Sarah replied. "You made it."
"I'm really sorry—"
"Save it." Sarah's voice was cool, controlled. "Sit down. We'll order. And then we're going to have that conversation you promised."
Eric sat, his stomach twisting with guilt and apprehension.
This was going to be one hell of a dinner.