My stomach growls. I don’t remember eating today.
Knock knock. Knock. What the hell. I check the clock again. Then I sneak out of bed to see what’s going on. If it’s Digby at my door, I’m not ready for this. What if he doesn’t have his phone? No, I’ll have to stay in here and hide.
I patter in the darkness to the door and look through the peephole. My heart drops and the damn tears start to flood my eyes. Lennox is in the hallway with his long arms stretched above my door frame, his head hanging down. He has no shirt on, what the hell is he doing?
I can’t leave him out there, Digby is on this floor and if he sees Lennox outside my room, it might ruin my plans. He has to believe I am anti-Lennox. I am anti-Lennox, damnit.
You lied but he put the nail in the coffin.
I take a deep breath and open the door to my dark hotel room. He stands upright and his face meets mine. He looks like I feel, bags under his hooded eyes, sagged shoulders. The green of his eyes is shattered.
I move aside so he can enter and he staggers two steps inside and bumps into the small office desk just inside the entry. My door closes and I turn the desk lamp on. “Are you drunk?” I whisper.
He looks around my room like the dumb asshole is expecting Digby to be there, then he shrugs. His reddened eyes are transfixed onto my shirt. His shirt, the damn Talisker Distillery hoodie. Don’t ask me why I’m wearing it. I know the right thing to do is burn it.
I cross my arms and draw myself in when I catch a hint of his cologne. His hair is unruly and looks like he’s been running his hands through it over and over again. Or maybe someone else has been running their fingers through it tonight. “What do you want?” I ask him when he doesn’t speak.
His gaze drops from the logo of my sweatshirt to my bare legs. The hoodie comes up to my mid-thigh. His eyes come back to mine and he whispers, “you.”
A tear rolls down my cheek, I can’t stop it despite how angry I am. He lifts a hand to wipe it away but I smack his hand back, “Don’t.”
“Don’t cry,” his voice cracks.
My anger rises, heating my flesh and building pressure in my brain. He’s been making me cry, deliberately, and now he shows up acting like he gives a shit. “What do you care? Why are you here?”
“Creature from the Black Lagoon is on TV.” He mumbles.
“Are you fucking serious,” I bark. “That’s what you came here at three in the morning to say to me?”
“What do you want me to say?”
I could think of a million things I want him to say. But what’s the point? “Nothing. I don’t want anything from you. Get out.”
“Please,” he whispers. His nostrils flare for a breath and his chest shudders.
“Please, what? What do you want?” Despite being angry, the tears keep coming. He looks so broken I can’t stand to look at him. I want to hit him and I want to hold him, not in any particular order.
“Argue with me, call me an asshole, anything.”
“It’s too late, Lennox. I don’t want to fight with you anymore,” I shake my head. These stupid tears, they sting my eyes from all the broken blood vessels.
“Don’t say that,” his hand comes to my face and I try to slap it away but he brings it back and his warm palm cradles my cheek. I close my eyes and try to control my breathing. “I miss you so fucking much,” he whispers.
My shoulders heave, there’s so much pressure in my chest. His thumb runs under my eye and he wipes away each tear that falls.
“I don’t know what’s real anymore, Mal.” I blink through the haze and look up at him. “I don’t know who’s here because they care and who’s here to fuck me over.”
“Why don’t you ask them?” I sob.
“Because the truth hurts, maybe I don’t want to know.” He brings his second hand up to tuck my hair behind my ear, but it’s too much. As much as I want his touch, it reminds me.
“Go ask your Big Tits, your new nanny,” I smack his hands away again.
“She quit.”
I huff. “That’s great, even she has more sense than I did.”
“I told you I was an asshole,” he speaks softly.