As the aroma of espresso filled the air, I cleared my throat and dialed Shiloh’s number. I didn't have a plan for what to say, but when I heard her voice, my inner turmoil returned with a vengeance. It was more than I was afraid she would get hurt by Ember—I didn’t want her to date Ember at all.

Ember didn’t deserve her, but then again, neither did I. However, that didn’t stop my big mouth from telling her how much I couldn’t wait to see her. Hopefully, I covered it with work, but I had to end the conversation before anything else slipped out.

After getting off the phone, nothing was resolved, and now my head and heart hurt. Her enthusiasm was palpable as she spoke, making it impossible to miss. I was sure it was mixed with nerves, but she was getting ready to ask out the woman of her dreams, and from what I could tell, Ember would say yes.

“Ahhh.” I let out a frustrated growl, which only made the pain inside me worse.

How did I get here? As I drank my espresso, I couldn't help but notice the way my hands trembled. I wanted to curse Matrix for putting me in this situation, but how could I? He tried to warn me that I might have feelings for Shiloh, but I ignored him. I thought by convincing myself that I was still broken, I could prevent anything from happening. But last night, while she was rubbing my shoulders, I knew I was in trouble. The emotions were stronger, and the more I told myself to pull away, the more my body craved to be near her. The worst part was that I couldn’t tell her how I felt, or I would be a selfish prick.

I probably wasn’t in a place to date, especially not Shiloh. She deserved a Cinderella: an eternal optimist whose life hadn’t hardened her. Shiloh was a caretaker and needed to be with someone who would do the same for her. No matter how much I longed to be that person, I couldn't deny the truth—I wasn't. All I could offer was my support, and I’d silently hold on to everything else.

I felt like shit and thought about canceling, but Shiloh had agreed to the interview today, so I needed to put on my best happy face and get it done. But when I entered the bathroom and saw my reflection, with the deep lines etched on my forehead, I grimaced. My only hope was a shower could eliminate some of my dread.

I turned the temperature up as high as it would go and the steam covered my image in the mirror. The moment I stepped into the stall, the scorching droplets acted as sensory overload, momentarily numbing my emotions and intensifying the physical pain. I stood there, hoping it would erase the invisible stains of stress and anxiety, but it didn’t.

Whenever I found myself in such a heightened state, the one thing that always soothed me was a release. I lowered the heat and adjusted the nozzle to pulsing. The intermittent stream glided across my nipples as my thumb delicately circled my clit. My arousal was building as the various sensations enveloped me, causing a throbbing to radiate from deep within my core.

As my pleasure intensified, my mind seamlessly filled in the gaps, painting a complete picture of ecstasy. I took a finger, teasing my entrance as images of Davia played in my head. I urged her into my favorite position—on all fours—while I trailed my nails down her back. As she moaned loudly, her sounds causing my wetness to turn into a pool. Then I sunk my teeth into the meaty part of her ass. She loved it when I teased her from both ends. As she bucked her hips, my hands squeezed her cheeks, spreading her open so my tongue could tickle her crevice.

The memories were taking me to the edge, and I adjusted the showerhead's spray to caress my lower lips, which ignited a rush of desire. As I leaned into the water, I slid a finger inside me while visions of my strap-on penetrated Davia from behind. My free hand instinctively went to my chest, massaging it as I rolled my hardened nipple between my fingers. I pictured myself slamming deeper inside of her dripping wet pussy. But as my excitement reached its peak, it wasn’t Davia I was fucking. I tried to take a step back and prevent the climax from culminating, but I had already crossed the point of no return.

My hands were moving frantically against my breast and my sweet spot, and before I could keep my thoughts to myself, “Shiloh” rolled off my tongue while we both rode the wave of pleasure together. The aftershocks kept coming, and so did I.

The intensity of the orgasm was overwhelming, and as it washed over me, Shiloh vividly flooded my mind: her chocolate eyes, her purposefully messy hair, the little dimple at the corner of her mouth, and the way her short stature would make it so easy for me to pick her up and have my way with her.

“Fuuuuuuck!” I opened my eyes and pulled myself out of this trance.

This wasn’t what I needed to relieve my anxiety. In fact, it made it worse. As if being wound tight wasn't enough, I also had a sick feeling creeping up on me. What was I going to do? How could I be professional and a good friend when I wanted to have sex with Shiloh?

I had to cast away those troubling mental images and move forward. After toweling off from the shower, I opted for my favorite sky-blue button-up shirt, which made my eyes pop, and paired it with tailored black dress pants. I again left my hair to air-dry, giving it more wave and body. Then I cuffed my sleeves to my elbows and slid on my white leather Vans. Once I spritzed on some of my favorite cologne, which was citrusy but woodsy, I was out the door.

Usually, I walked to the studio, but I wasn’t sure where Shiloh would want to meet before the coffeehouse, so I decided to drive. It took me longer to park than it did to get there, but I didn’t mind because at least I didn’t have to deal with the wind that inevitably would have caused my hair to rat up.

As I entered the third floor, I saw Matrix talking to our head boss, Mr. Tolken, in the sound room. I hoped he wasn’t getting in trouble because I hadn’t given him anything to produce for the show this week. But from his body language, he didn’t seem like a scolded child. Quite the opposite. He was smiling widely and supportively patting Mr. Tolken’s shoulder.

I watched as the encounter ended. There was an overwhelming urge to hide, but I was in an empty hallway with nowhere to go. As Mr. Tolken stepped out, he offered a curt nod.

“Ms. Montegomery. I take it you have a good show planned?” He kept walking, not waiting for a response, which made it appear more of a threat than a question.

“Yes, sir. As always,” I called out, but I didn’t like feeling bullied. “Fucker,” I mumbled under my breath.

“You ready?” Matrix asked from behind me, and I jumped.

“Ready for what?”

He stared at me as if it were obvious, but there was too much chaos in my brain for me to read between the lines. “The challenge. I have the peppers and the cameras set up.”

Damn it. I had forgotten to tell him Shiloh was in again. “I’m sorry. We don’t need to do that. I will have some footage from Shiloh for you today. I already confirmed with her this morning.”

I felt bad for forgetting, but in all fairness, he probably still would have prepped because, so far, this had been a wishy-washy segment that was causing everyone anxiety—for various reasons.

“Wait a minute, so you’re back to helping her get laid?”

“No!” I screeched too loudly. “I’m helping her ask someone out. No one said anything about what they would do after that.” I wanted to scrub my eyes with bleach, thinking about Ember being near Shiloh the way I had been earlier in the shower.

“Okay. But getting her a date could most definitely lead to sex, so it’s just semantics.” He shook his head and chuckled, then a knowing look crossed his face. “Caz. Do you like her?”

“I already told you I wanted to be her friend. That’s not new.” I tried to shrug him off and go into the booth, but he was hot on my heels.

“Don’t start this again. You have feelings for her. Like more than friendly ones. I can see it in your eyes.” He pointed at me, and I pushed past him to the comfy chair.

“You can’t see anything because nothing is there. These eyes are a blank canvas.” As I tried to get my mind to sell him my lie, it betrayed me by conjuring up images of Shiloh, causing a noticeable blush to creep across my cheeks.

“I knew this would happen!” He seemed so pleased with himself until he realized my dilemma. “Oh. This is bad. Are you going through with it?” His voice held a sense of sorrow, but I didn’t want to feel his pity.

“It’s nothing but a crush that doesn’t mean anything. So, yes, I’m doing the show, and I’m already over it.” I casually shrugged, feigning disinterest.

“Caz, don’t lie to me.”

“You’re a fine one to talk. When were you going to tell me about your girlfriend? Or that you have another job?” Maybe if I threw the conversation back on him, he would drop this third-degree.

“Don’t you dare do that. I would have told you a while ago about both things, but every time I asked you to come out with me, you bailed at the last minute. I didn’t want to discuss my personal life at work, especially not my other venture. But I just told Tolken today, and I was for sure going to talk to you about things, too.” He rubbed the back of his neck, which I knew meant he was stressed.

“Are there other things you’re leaving out?” My heart raced as the thought of him leaving me floated through my mind, and I began to feel lightheaded.

“Caz, let’s produce this show and make it the best it can be. We can discuss both of our situations later.” But he didn’t have to say anymore.

I knew what was happening. He thought if he let me off the hook, then I would do the same for him. But it didn’t matter. I could see through him. He was leaving, and this would be his last show. No wonder he had been so annoyed by not having the footage he needed. He didn’t want to go out on a low note, and I didn’t want him to go at all.

“So, what’s the game plan today? Do you still want to shoot the pepper footage for backup?” He remained focused and professional while I had already mentally checked out.

I could hardly handle the Shiloh situation, and losing Matrix pushed me over the edge.

“What the fuck!” I yelled so loudly that people in the next city over probably could have heard me if we had not been in a soundproof room. I buried my face in my hands, trying to force the tears back into my ducts.

“Caz, please don’t.” Matt sat on the arm of my chair and wrapped me in a hug. “You don’t need me. You are the face and the voice of this show. Whatever you put out, your fans eat up.”

“I hate you.”

He squeezed me tighter. “That’s understandable. I make it easy.”

I curled into his arm, and he rubbed circles on my back, which reminded me of last night when Shiloh did the same thing. How had I gone from needing no one to crying in the arms of two people who I was supposed to protect—not the other way around?

“Is this your last show, then?” I sniffled but composed myself enough to ask the question.

“Technically, yes, but I’m going to help for the next two weeks to train someone new. Since your show is so popular, they will probably pull another producer from a different podcast and give them a promotion. Hopefully, that will be good for both of you because that means less training on the technical side, and they just need to learn how to work with you.”

While I knew many talented producers in the industry, I had only collaborated with Matrix. The idea of establishing a connection with someone else was soul-crushing.