****
Wayne should be in his office. Instead, he sat in his apartment, sipping a horrid cup of coffee and eating dry, cold toast. He hadn’t slept well last night, and he’d spent most of the night reaching out for Temperance, who wasn’t there to take into his arms.
His laptop was set up, and he checked through his emails, looking for something to distract him. He’d not shaved or showered. The toys were still on the table and he kept glancing at them, wondering how the little boy was doing.
Running a hand down his face, he tried to clear his fuzzy brain, but like always, it didn’t help.
You’re a bastard.
Yes, he was a horrible person.
His life was back to being his own, and he wanted to live it like he used to.
The sound of his apartment doorbell was once again a welcome distraction from the bullshit of working.
Getting to his feet, he made his way down and answered the door.
It wasn’t Temperance, not that he imagined it would be.
This woman was her roommate. He recognized her from the data he got on Temperance.
“Hi, I’m Lilah. Temperance sent me to collect some of her things. I hope that’s okay?” she asked.
“You’re the porn star.”
He caught the wince before she could hide it.
“Temperance’s stuff. She said you probably already packed it up.”
Her arms were now folded. “She’s mistaken.”
“Can I collect her things?”
He wanted to slam the door in her face and tell her to fuck off. Opening the door wide, he gave her the chance to enter.
She did, and after he closed the door he led the way down to Temperance’s bedroom. Entering the room, he switched the light on and grabbed one of her jackets, holding it behind his back.
Wayne watched as Lilah grabbed a bag and began to fill it with Temperance’s clothing and trinkets.
Lilah didn’t even try to make small talk, and he found the silence irritating.
“How is she?” he asked, finally caving.
She stopped and looked at him. “She’s … fine.”
“Does she have everything she needs?”
Lilah kept staring at him. “I believe so.”
“If at any time she needs anything, anything at all, call me.” He pulled out a business card that had all of his details on it.
She took the card and frowned. “Why did you do it?” she asked.
“Do what?”
“Break her heart, send Timothy back.”
“She’s not allowed to—”
“The papers already have the story of how Timothy isn’t really your son, and that you’ve gotten rid of him. Temperance would never talk about a job. She’s not like that. Her reputation means so much to her. She has rules, and yet with you she broke every single one of them. I don’t get it. I wish I did. I see that she’s broken-hearted, because I can see her. She’s crying all the time, even though she tries and fails to hide it.”
He didn’t like that she was hurting.
Rubbing at his chest, he tried to find something, anything that could offer an excuse for what happened. He came up with nothing.
“You don’t look like you’re faring much better either. You’re both broken and miserable. Did you think it would hurt like this?”
“I don’t think you’re in any position to talk to me about my decisions. Especially as yours are not exactly bright.”
She nodded and smiled. “You’re right. I’m in no position to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. You’re perfectly happy to do that all on your own.” She picked up the bag and turned to leave. “If you were so happy with what you did, Temperance’s room wouldn’t be left like this, and her bed wouldn’t be wrinkled. You slept in that to be close to her. I’ve known her long enough to know she hates beds left like that.”
He didn’t stop her as she left, nor did he dispute what she had said.
Nothing was the same now.
Wayne didn’t know what he’d expected.
Timothy had blown into his world, and now he was gone. All he’d wanted was for someone else to have responsibility for the boy. He’d known he wasn’t the boy’s father, and yet, seeing the piece of paper with proof had fucking hurt.
The door to his apartment closed, and he still held onto Temperance’s jacket.
This was what he’d been pushed to. Holding onto a jacket as if by magic it could make her appear.
He placed the jacket back on the bed and went to his room to take a shower.
Wayne was done.
This was his damn life.
Timothy wasn’t his kid to worry about, and Temperance was a thirty-year-old woman. She could take care of herself. The sex had been fucking good, smoking hot even, but she didn’t need him.
He’d not promised her anything.
Removing his clothes, he stepped into the water, washing off the sweat and grime from the past couple of days.
He had his life back, and that was exactly what he wanted.