The agent was now wearing a T-shirt. I had soiled his suit and the red tie. I had never vomited on anyone. A part of me believed he was responsible. It was his fault he was down to an undershirt. I didn’t owe him an apology after he mangled my happiness just as severely as if his hands were clasped around my throat, squeezing the breath from my body.
My fingers trembled as I fastened the lid to the bottle.
“Are you ready to continue?” He wasn’t harsh, but I didn’t detect sympathy.
My stomach hurt. My clothes smelled despite my effort to wash them in the bathroom sink. I was reeling from being hauled into this stale interrogation room with no windows to the outside world. No. I didn’t want to continue. But the only way out was to comply. I knew that much.
“I-I guess.”
“Look, Mr. West has been on our radar for a number of years. We haven’t been able to bring him in. Any information you can provide will help us do that.”
“I don’t know anything.” I swallowed. The hollowness filled me. I didn’t. I didn’t know who Vaughn was or Jeremy. He wasn’t a Jeremy.
“What seems like insignificant details to you can add up to complete the puzzle we have. You might have the missing piece, Miss Charles. You just don’t realize it. Together, we can figure out what that is. If you agree to help us, I believe I can have all charges against you dropped.”
“I don’t care about the charges.” I gritted my teeth. My eyes lifted to his. The tears slipped from my eyes in heavy droplets. “You just told me the man I’ve spent the last few months with is a criminal. That everything he told me was a lie. That he used me to steal from my best friend.” I clenched my jaw. “I will fight the charges against me. We both know I didn’t help him.”
“Good. It sounds like you’re willing to cooperate.”
“I didn’t say that,” I snapped. “I need more than five minutes to process this.” I glared at him.
“How about I wait outside. I could use a cup of coffee. You?”
“I’ll pass.”
“Another bottled water?” he offered.
“No.” Did he think hospitality mattered in here?
“I’ll give you some time to think about the offer. But, it’s not open-ended. Realize you need to make a decision.”
He walked out of the room. I stared at the mirrored glass. My mascara was smudged beyond recognition. I wondered who was on the other side. Who was witnessing my heartbreak. Who was watching me fall apart. Who saw the moment my life was shattered.
What were they thinking now? That I was a pathetic mess? That I had let a man ruin me? That I had been conned? I should have been smarter. I should have been suspicious. I should have been anything but weak.
I spilled out of the chair and onto the floor, pulling my legs under me.
It wasn’t a con. It couldn’t be.
Everything was real. He was the reason I breathed. He was the man who stirred my blood. The man who brought me back to life. Who kissed me. Held me. Loved me. Worshipped my body. Tested my sexual limits and explored the deepest part of my sensuality. I had given him everything. Opened everything to him.
It was not a con.
I squeezed my eyes together. My head hurt. I pulled my palms to my lips as one sob escaped after another.
It was not a con.
He said he loved me. That last day before he went out of town. He said it.
It was not a con.
I heard the whimpers as I cried on the floor. They didn’t sound like me. They sounded like a small child, missing its mother. Like a lost toddler frantic that it had been left behind.
No one had looked at me the way he did. As if we were connected from just one glance. One smile. Like all the kisses were the first and the last wrapped up in each other. Our bodies fit in a seamless rhythm.
He listened. We talked all night. I laid in his arms and talked about law. I talked about home. He challenged me to stick with the clinic on the worst days. He wanted me to apply for the faculty position.
It was not a con.