Poison

“We need to be out of here soon,” he said, finally, and gestured to the wall clock. “Monday morning is calling me loud and clear.”

“Ditto,” I replied. “I’ve got plenty to be doing, too.”

But I didn’t move as he got on with kitchen duties, glued to the spot like a stupid mute fool, blindsided by the way that stunning creature went about his regular life.

I watched him pet his dogs and grin at them, then put some toast in the toaster. I watched him clean down the countertops and shove a few plates in the dishwasher, and there he was. The man I’d fallen in love with. Mannerisms, and breaths, and expressions. The bounce in his step as he crossed the kitchen to the back door and let the dogs out into the garden.

I knew this man.

I knew his usual bright-eyed morning brilliance.

I knew the way he clicked his tongue and whistled to call the dogs back inside again once they’d done their business.

I knew the way he wriggled his tie into position and smoothed down his jacket once he’d laced his feet into his brogues, ready for the outside world.

I knew everything about him, because I’d known everything about him. He was still him. The same Lucas Pierce who’d captivated me from the beginning.

With that realisation came a nagging little twist in my belly – a gust of something far deeper than words. Something way beyond my control. Way beyond anything I’d ever want to feel in a thousand years.

Please, universe, no.

Please, brain, get a goddamn grip.

But I couldn’t deny it. I couldn’t even hide it from the part of myself screaming for his blood and his tears and the battering retribution for all the tears he’d given me.

That twist in my belly was stating the very damn obvious.

I didn’t want it to be time to go soon. Not from Lucas Pierce and his stunning dick and his stunning countryside bolthole. Monday morning could get stuffed, because I wasn’t ready.

I wasn’t ready for this one off to be over.

“Sure I can’t tempt you with breakfast?” he asked again, when he noticed I was still standing there staring over like an idiot.

It was enough to snap me out of my immediate stupor.

“No, thanks,” I repeated. “I’m not hungry.”

I wasn’t lying on that score. I wasn’t hungry, and I didn’t want any breakfast from that asshole. I should never have taken anything from him in this place, especially not his cock. It was my own fault for being led so easily by my bleating little clit.

I should have told him he was a prick all over again and come to my senses, but I didn’t. In the cold light of morning, as it dared to peep its face through the kitchen window, I forced a smile at his hospitality. Manners cost nothing, after all.

He flashed me a smile right back, both of us hovering there with this awkward hint of a grin on our faces. Paper thin on both sides. A pathetic little veneer hiding a whole churn of bullshit highs and lows.

So much unspoken.

So much that would never be spoken in this lifetime.

It was time to end this shitstorm for good.

I told him I’d get my things together and bolted away upstairs. Collecting my crap was an easy mission. There was only a stupid scrappy tennis outfit minus the lace thong to dress myself in, and a bag crammed with makeup, and my meds, and a sports bottle I filled back up with water in the bathroom. I popped my lamotrigine pills from the packet and washed them down, then cursed myself as I realised my phone was dead to the world. Flat out of battery.

Clearly, I hadn’t entirely planned on being here overnight again. If I had, I would have packed my damn charger. And my toothbrush.

I didn’t bother with makeup, but I did smooth my hair down as well as I could before getting set to step back into my regular life. I cast myself one final sigh in the mirror, then trekked back down to my nemesis with a newfound determination that this was really it. Party over.

He’d finished up his coffee and dumped the mug into the dishwasher by the time he noticed me in the kitchen doorway wearing the same skimpy shorts as the day before.

“Nice,” he said, and gave me a smirk. “Fancy a rematch?”

“Don’t even go there,” I replied, and he shrugged.

He sorted the dogs and grabbed his coat, just a regular morning for a regular guy heading into the office. But it was anything but a regular morning for me.

My heart was aching fresh for the life I’d been devastated to lose, but was now crying out to a whole new tune along with it.

The scribbled daddy pictures taped to the wall upstairs had slammed me deep and hard.