I stumble back into the bedroom, my legs unsteady, my body wanting to revolt as I look for my clothes, each item scattered like we were wild last night, ripping at our own clothes and throwing them everywhere.
Tears continue to run down my face as I pull on each article of clothing, the fabric abrading my skin just as I deserve, each breath getting caught in my chest.
Even Gaige couldn’t stick around this morning. I’m sure he has no regrets. He didn’t the first time, but facing me wouldn’t be part of his plan either. He probably paid for another room just to get away the second I fell asleep, despite the serenity in his eyes when it was all over, the press of his forehead to mine, the gentle kiss to the tip of my nose all a part of his game.
How did I let myself feel so valued through all of it? How did he give me exactly what I needed? The rough and dirty before the soft and tender, a combination so rarely found in casual sex.
The tears fall harder, faster, fat drops staining my wrinkled clothes. I don’t bother putting on my pumps. I just scoop them up from the floor.
Then as if the morning couldn’t get any worse, the electronic lock on the door whirs, and I freeze.
Gaige walks in, a misplaced smile on his stupidly handsome face, a cup of coffee in each hand, a paper bag hanging between two fingers. His smile fades away in an instant.
“What’s wrong? Did you get sick?”
My stomach threatens a second revolt at his words, and I know I may never be well again.
“This was a mistake,” I hiss.
The first time was on him, and I refuse to feel that guilt I’ve felt for the last week because of that. I probably would’ve never been able to let it go had last night not happened, but I release it now that I have my own choice to dwell on. Last night was on both of us, and that guilt will swim in my stomach for the rest of my damn life.
I made that choice knowing of his commitment. Even drunk I knew he had a wife—a family—back in St. Louis, and it doesn’t matter if she’s perfect or a bitter unhappy woman like my mother is. She’s still his wife, a woman he made vows to. He betrayed her, and I’ve played a part in that for a second time.
He opens his mouth, the coffee and bag lifting a few inches in the air, but I can’t listen to excuses. I refuse. There isn’t a single damn thing he can say that will correct our behaviors, our sins.
I storm past him, a pained cry escaping my mouth when I drop one of my shoes on my way out of the room and have to use precious seconds of my escape to bend down and retrieve it. I enter my room, chest heaving with sobs as I lean against the closed door of my room, but I can’t spend eternity drowning in my guilt because we still have a job to do. If I can make it through the day, I can spend the week deciding whether I’ll be able to keep working for Blackbridge or if I’ll break my contract and slink back to New York.
Five minutes later, my tears are mixing with warm water from the shower, and I can’t even give in fully to my pain because I’m afraid he’s going to hear me. I don’t want him to know how much my mistakes are costing me. It gives him too much power, and he has already had enough over me. I obeyed every word last night. It was as if once we closed ourselves into that room, I was his to command.
Eyes on me. Spread your legs. Wider, Leighton. Don’t be shy.
I want to bang my head on the shower wall, needing physical pain to detract from the emotional stuff I’m suffering from, but that would draw attention too.
After the shower that brings no real relief, I apply more makeup than usual in an attempt to hide the destruction on my face, and dress, wearing clothes that will end up being too warm for the California weather, but they’re a shield against accidental brushes if we get too close.
As I’m pulling on my shoes, my phone chirps with a text.
Gaige: Dr. Cox canceled. Her mother took a turn for the worse last night. She’s no longer interested. I’ve made arrangements for an earlier flight. Meet in the lobby in twenty.
Knowing the text will show as being read, I don’t bother to reply.
I finish getting ready, pack my suitcase, and head down the second I’m done. The last thing I need is to be stuck alone with him in an elevator.