The Misplaced Lover

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Things with Lionel got intense.

So intense that he slammed his head against the nightstand and passed out cold.

When he woke up, something was off.

He stopped clinging to me, treating me like a cat he suddenly discovered he was allergic to. A few words from me and his ears would turn crimson before hed bristle and bolt. After two weeks of being sexually ghosted, I was sure hed found someone new.

I decided to end our contract early.

But before I even reached his study, I heard him on the phone.

"I went to sleep eighteen and woke up twenty-seven. Thats one hell of a long nap."

"I know I sound crazy, but the girl I was secretly in love with is suddenly my girlfriend. She asks me every night if I want to sleep with her. How is a guy supposed to handle that?"

The girl he was in love with? Was he talking about me?

I thought this was just a transaction.

I stared down at the contract in my hands, my mind reeling.

Lionel had been acting strange lately.

It started a week ago, the night he got back from a business trip. In the middle of a rather enthusiastic reunion, his head connected with the solid oak of the nightstand, and he went out like a light.

For a horrifying second, I thought hed died of pleasure.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I found out it was just a concussion. But what followed was even stranger. It was like a completely different person woke up in that hospital bed.

The moment he was conscious, I rushed over with a thermos of his favorite simple broth. But as I lifted the spoon to his lips, he flinched so hard he rolled right off the bed. The IV line ripped from his arm, his face flushed a furious red, and he just lay there, a tangled mess of limbs and sheets. It was chaos.

A moment later, his assistant, Mr. Wright, stepped out of the room.

"Miss Meryl," he said, "Mr. Thorne would like you to go home. Hell be back later."

Clutching the now-tepid thermos, I peeked into the room. Our eyes met for a fraction of a second before Lionel violently snapped his head away. A pained yelp was followed by a nurses shriek.

"Sir, did you just sprain your neck again?!"

I was worried about Lionel. More specifically, I was worried about Lionels performance. This was my job, after all. If my benefactor wasnt up to the task, my purpose here was pretty much nonexistent. The job market was a nightmare, and a benefactor as handsome, wealthy, and low-maintenance as Lionel was a rare find.

So, I went home and put on my A-game. I pulled out all the stops, making myself look absolutely irresistible.

But for two days, there was no sign of him.

My calls went straight to voicemail. A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach.

Damn it, am I about to be unemployed?

I switched tactics and called Mr. Wright. Bless that man. He patched me through to Lionel without a second thought.

"Works been busy the last couple of days, I"

Before he could finish, I let a soft, shaky sob escape my lips.

"I just wanted to see the wound on your head. I was so worried about you."

Silence on the other end. My damsel-in-distress act had never failed me with him.

That evening, Lionel came home.

But from the moment he walked in, his face was a stone mask. Hed always been a bit cold, but usually, there was a warmth in his eyes you couldnt miss. Now, he just looked tense. Deliberately so.

"You must be exhausted from work," I began, breaking the strange silence as I walked toward him, my hand outstretched. "Your head just healed, you shouldn't overdo it..."

Before my fingers could even brush his sleeve, he sidestepped me with flawless precision. I stumbled forward, my hand closing on empty air.

I stood there for a moment, stunned, the feeling in my empty palm slowly turning to a cold dread in my gut.

Our relationship was built on a transaction, yes, but his obsession and affection for me had always made me feel like the one in charge. The man used to be like velcro the second he saw me. He wouldnt just let me touch him; hed practically wanted me surgically attached to his hip to satisfy his insatiable appetite.

And now

Alarm bells screamed in my head. It was over.

My charm had worn off.

Lionel looked deeply uncomfortable. "The wounds almost healed," he stammered. "Lets lets eat first."

I placed a freshly shucked oyster on Lionels plate. His hand trembled as he picked up the small fork.

I watched him, my expression unreadable.

His head was bowed, his focus entirely on the task of lifting the oyster. The fork slipped. The oyster fell back onto the plate. After two more failed attempts, the tips of his ears were burning a shade of crimson. Finally, with a shaky hand, he managed to get it into his mouth.

A small sigh of relief escaped me.

Okay, hes still willing to eat what I give him. I haven't been completely cast aside.

But the rest of the meal was suffocating. Whatever I put on his plate, he ate, his eyes never leaving it. It wasnt until the platters were nearly empty that I realized he was so full he looked like he was about to be sick.

After dinner, I sent the housekeeper home. Taking a deep breath, I slipped into the sheer lavender nightgown. It was his favorite, the one I reserved for moments when I wanted a new designer bag.

Tonight, I needed to know if he was still functional.

Good news: He was.

Bad news: He took one look at me, got a massive nosebleed, and ran away with a very obvious problem in his pants.

I sat on the edge of the bed like a useless husband, listening to the roar of his sports car fading into the distance.

Just moments ago, Id emerged from the closet as he was walking into the bedroom. Our eyes met. His gaze was glued to my body; mine was glued to his crotch.

Then, a line of crimson trickled from his nose.

Our eyes widened in unison.

"Lionel"

I scrambled for a tissue, but he was already in a full-blown panic. He clamped one hand over his nose and held the other up at me like a traffic cop.

"Don't come any closer!"

His sudden shout made me freeze. He stumbled backward, still clutching his nose.

"I just remembered I have something urgent at the office," he said, his voice muffled. "You you go to sleep."

The sound of the car disappeared completely. I slumped, defeated, and peeled off the nightgown.

As much as I hated to admit it, the truth was staring me in the face.

Lionel had lost interest.

Otherwise, knowing him, wed be shaking the damn headboard off the bed by now.

I pulled out my phone and opened a job search app. The first listing I saw was for three thousand a month, with no benefits. My vision went black for a second.

Just as I was resigning myself to the fact that my life in a gilded cage was about to be traded for the rat race, Lionel came back.

It was noon the next day. Id given up and slept in until eleven. When I came downstairs, he was already sitting at the dining table.

He looked up. I froze, my hair a certifiable birds nest. My brain short-circuited. I spun around and bolted back up the stairs.

Damn it! He always gave me a heads-up before. In two years, I had never let him see me like this. It was always full makeup, perfect hair, my best self.

And now, not only had I lost his favor, but hed seen me at my absolute worst.

I gave up, did a half-hearted tidy-up, and went back down. Lionel was still there.

"Meryl. Good morning," he said, his voice halting.

I was too dejected to care anymore. I slumped into the chair beside him.

"Im sorry," he said, looking at my eyes carefully. "I didn't mean to just leave like that last night. Have you been crying?"

I touched my eyelids, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. It was my new "peach blossom" makeup, a soft, pinkish hue at the corners of my eyes meant to look alluringly fragile. He thought Id cried my eyes out.

I almost laughed out loud.

Has he been replaced by an idiot? The real Lionel would never ask such a dumb question.

When I didn't answer, he produced a massive designer bag from behind his back.

"Don't be angry. This is for you."

My eyes lit up. I opened the bag and almost gasped. So many purses. Why was he being so generous? It wasnt that he was usually cheaphed given me a supplementary credit card, after allbut he usually just wired me the money and let me buy things myself.

I lovingly picked up each bag, one by one.

Then, a wave of horror washed over the excitement.

Was this a golden parachute? A severance package?

The more I thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. The beautiful leather in my hands suddenly felt cold.

Lionel watched my face. "You don't like them?" he asked, his voice laced with caution.

I forced a smile. "No, of course not. Are you coming home to sleep tonight?"

The question dropped the temperature in the room back to freezing. Lionel's gaze darted away.

"The office is really busy right now. Ill probably have to stay there for a while"

My heart turned to ice. It was such a flimsy excuse, the kind of polite refusal adults use to soften the blow.

So it was true. These ridiculously expensive bags were my goodbye present.

For the next few days, Lionel made a point to come home for dinner. But that was it. Just dinner. Every time I tried to initiate any kind of physical contact, he would jump back like a spooked cat, his whole body on high alert. Staying the night was completely out of the question.

After several failed attempts, I opened the job app again. Id just managed to negotiate that soul-crushing three-thousand-a-month job up to thirty-two hundred when Lionel showed up again.

I put my phone down, deciding to give it one last shot. If he pushed me away this time, I was done.

"Do you like them?"

He'd brought a bouquet of brilliant yellow roses. Yellow roses. A symbol of parting and goodbyes.

I sighed. I didn't even have the energy to take off my coat and reveal the lingerie I was wearing underneath. He was practically screaming at me to get the hint and leave. What was I even fighting for?

Lionel had a huge appetite. For the past two years, Id woken up nearly every morning with my legs feeling like jelly as he carried me to the shower. But he hadn't touched me in weeks, yet he looked more vibrant than ever, like he'd shed ten years.

He must be getting his fill elsewhere. Hed found a new canary, one he liked more, one he was obsessed with. Thats why he wouldnt touch me, why he was dropping all these hints for me to leave.

I took the flowers, managing a weak smile. "I love them."

Then I turned, mumbled something about changing, and went to my room.

I took off the tempting lingerie and pulled our contract from the nightstand drawer. Wed signed it two years ago, renewable annually. It was set to expire next month. Id planned on renewing it after his trip, but now there was no point.

A bitter smile touched my lips as I unfolded the document.

Honestly, I was going to miss this. I had no real feelings for Lionel, but a man that handsome who was also a walking ATM, great in bed, and completely discreet? He was a unicorn.

I took a deep breath and walked toward the study with the contract in hand.

I may have sold my time and my body, but I still had my pride. The contract was clear: if either party wanted to end the relationship or found another partner, the agreement was void. I was ending it. Time to start my new life at thirty-two hundred a month.

Lionel wasnt in the living room. I checked the driveway from the window; his car was still there. Where could he be?

Just as I was wondering, I heard his voice, tinged with frustration, coming from around the corner, from the study.

"Hows it going with that neurosurgeon in Europe? Did you get me an appointment?"

"I know hes hard to book, but you cant just let your friend live like this, completely out of his mind, can you?"

I went to sleep eighteen and woke up twenty-seven. All the memories in between are just gone. Wiped clean."

"The company stuff is the least of my worries. I can figure out the paperwork if I try hard enough. The real problem is my girlfriend."

My hand, the one holding the contract, trembled. A womans intuition is never wrong. Especially a beautiful womans intuition.

Lionel really did have a new girlfriend.

But what did he mean, eighteen to twenty-seven?

Before I could puzzle it out, I heard my own name.

"When did I start dating her? Havent I told you? Its Meryl. Yeah, Meryl. I probably kept it from you because I was afraid youd try to steal her."

He sighed. "Now my girlfriend asks me every night if I want to sleep with her."

"I know, it should be a dream come true. The girl Ive been secretly in love with is my girlfriend. But Im terrified Ill blow my cover. Im so wound up I feel like Im going to explode, but I dont dare touch her."

I was completely bewildered.

Secretly in love? With me?

What was he talking about? I couldn't make sense of any of it.

He was still complaining, his voice thick with misery. "You think I'm crazy too, right? I do. You have no idea what it's like, watching her walk around all day, looking so damn cute. She even gets all dolled up just to seduce me. I can't take it. That's why I can't even come home most nights."

"Im just telling you, don't you dare picture it."

I stared at the contract in my hand, a wild thought taking root.

Wait a second. If what Lionel was saying was true

Then I wasn't about to be unemployed. I was about to get a promotion.

"You have to find a way. I need to get my memory back, fast. If Meryl finds out and breaks up with me, Ill hang myself from your front door the next day."

The call ended.

His footsteps grew closer. I clutched the contract and scurried back to my room.

Once inside, I shoved the contract back into the drawer, my thoughts a tangled mess.

Lionel and I had never met before our arrangement, at least not in my memory. The first time was at a caf where my boss was tearing into me for dropping a tray of glasses. Lionel appeared out of nowhere, his broad back shielding me from the verbal assault, and pulled me out of that miserable life. When he offered to cover all of my dogs vet bills, I didn't hesitate. I went online and printed out a standard sugar-baby contract template. He barely blinked before signing his name.

My dog, my only family, didnt make it in the end. But my arrangement with Lionel continued, undefined and strange.

Sometimes, when hed take me to galas, other women would tell me with envy in their eyes how much he clearly adored me. I never believed them. I always thought he was just infatuated with my body.

But now

I opened my closet, his words echoing in my head.

An eighteen-year-old Lionel, in love with me. What would he like?

I decided to test his story myself.

My eyes landed on a schoolgirl outfit. I thought back to my own eighteenth year and pulled my hair into a high, neat ponytail.

"Meryl, lunch is ready"

Just as I finished changing, Lionels voice came from outside the door. I glanced in the mirror. My face was bare, and the uniform made me look like Id stepped back in time.

My heart hammered against my ribs. I took a deep breath and opened the door.