  <div class="flex">
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  <div id="quillEditor" class="episode-content ql-editor">&quot;You&quot;re not going back to New York for your ex,&quot; Timothy states from behind me as I throw my makeup and toiletries into the tiny suitcase on my bed. &quot;It&quot;s work,&quot; I insist. &quot;I&quot;ve been here a week, and even though I told my collaborators what&quot;s going on, they need assurances. Especially Ian, because he&quot;s central to the funding of this entire venture.&quot; The past two days, we&quot;ve been hanging out around the house and the studio. I think he&quot;s worried about me since Sophia fell into the pool, waiting for me to fall apart. I won&quot;t, but I like having an excuse to spend time with him. Once I&quot;ve got my essentials into my bag, I zip the thing closed and drop onto the bed. Timothy crosses to the edge of the bed, leaning over

  I didn&quot;t come to New York to tell Emily Carlton I love her. I came because I couldn&quot;t let her go off to see some dickhead who hurt her without having backup. I know I&quot;ve been that dickhead, but I won&quot;t be him this time. She&quot;s flushed in the hall lights, a warm, lush shade that makes me want to kiss her everywhere. I want to capture her with my hands, my mind, so I can have her like this whenever I want. &quot;My heart has been yours since you walked into the pool house to steal my towel senior year at Oakwood,&quot; I continue. Emily&quot;s lips part, those amber eyes blinking as she sucks in a slow breath. If she tells me to leave, I will. I&quot;ll walk out of here and never come back, never insert myself into her life again when she hasn&quot;t asked for it. Instead, she holds out a hand. &quot;Give me your phone.&quot; I take it out, unlocking it for her. S

  This morning, there&quot;s no alarm to wake me to start working. There&quot;s no screaming from downstairs, no sound of Sophie shrieking, no daycare. But I&quot;m awake and warm and itchy. I&quot;ve been at Dad and Haley&quot;s for four days. The first couple of nights, I slept through without waking. Since Timothy left for LA, though, I&quot;ve been restless and turned on. I still haven&quot;t found the breakthrough I need with my final song, and I know Ian&quot;s breathing down my neck. Soon Miranda will be, too. So, this morning, I give myself this one thing. I slide a hand down the front of my pajamas, where I&quot;m already wet. It&quot;s a bad idea to fantasize about a man you can&quot;t have. I didn&quot;t let myself do it when we were apart, save for a couple of times when I gave myself a pass on account of being too tipsy to regulate my fantasizing or having a really brutal da

<div class="flex">
  <div class="item-main">
  <div id="quillEditor" class="episode-content ql-editor">&quot;You&quot;re not going back to New York for your ex,&quot; Timothy states from behind me as I throw my makeup and toiletries into the tiny suitcase on my bed. &quot;It&quot;s work,&quot; I insist. &quot;I&quot;ve been here a week, and even though I told my collaborators what&quot;s going on, they need assurances. Especially Ian, because he&quot;s central to the funding of this entire venture.&quot; The past two days, we&quot;ve been hanging out around the house and the studio. I think he&quot;s worried about me since Sophia fell into the pool, waiting for me to fall apart. I won&quot;t, but I like having an excuse to spend time with him. Once I&quot;ve got my essentials into my bag, I zip the thing closed and drop onto the bed. Timothy crosses to the edge of the bed, leaning over to stare down at me with broody eyes. &quot;I don&quot;t trust him. He&quot;s an asshole.&quot; &qu

CHAPTER 52