He could’ve screamed. He could’ve railed. He could’ve sank to his knees and just declared himself done.
Instead, he tore his cell out of his pocket. 5:12 AM. He opened the Uber app, hoping there was a car somewhere nearby at this hour. Closest was eight minutes out. He glanced over his shoulder at the windows to Kristina’s apartment. Since he’d have to wait for a pick-up, he didn’t want there to be any chance she’d catch him standing out here. So he started walking, and only when he was three buildings over did he call for a car.
And then all there was to do was wait.
Kristina came awake on a stretch, and the movement revealed that all kinds of places on her were deliciously sore.
So worth it.
The feeling and the thought had her opening her eyes and looking for Noah in the bed next to her—
Empty.
“Noah?” she called, pushing herself into a sitting position. The clock on the nightstand read 6:01. She reached over and turned off the alarm, set to ring in another fourteen minutes.
She swung her feet over the edge of the bed, and immediately noticed that her bra, panties, and sandals were the only clothes still scattered over the floor. Noah’s clothes were gone. And his phone was no longer on the nightstand. Her stomach squeezed.
Maybe he was just out in the kitchen. Kristina got out of bed, wrapped her robe around her, and went looking, calling his name again as she went. But her apartment was small. It only took ten seconds to determine that she was all alone.
He’d left without saying good-bye. She found herself searching the kitchen counter, the table, the coffee table, her dresser—looking for a note to explain why he’d gone. Nothing. My cell phone! She unplugged it from the charger in her room and thumbed into her messages, but the last one he’d sent was from the morning before.
She sat heavily on the edge of her bed, her robe pooling around her.
Granted, they’d agreed the sex would just be for one night, so it wasn’t like he owed her anything. But it wasn’t like him to leave without a word, was it? And it wasn’t like they were the traditional one-night stand, either.
For a long moment, she stared at the blank text box, and then she typed, Are you okay? She hit Send and waited, but ten minutes later, he still hadn’t responded.
“Okay, don’t jump to any conclusions,” she said to herself. The words sounded loud in the otherwise empty room. “There could be a hundred reasonable explanations. Or at least a dozen. Or a couple.” She rolled her eyes at her ridiculous solo conversation and tossed the phone to the bed.
But as she showered and dressed for her day, Kristina couldn’t help but worry that she wasn’t going to like his reasons for leaving the way he had. Like, that he regretted sleeping with her. For one.
Which of course had her worrying about their friendship. Which then had her getting mad at herself for even suggesting the whole “just sex” for “just one night” thing because Idiot!
>
How the hell had she thought that made sense? Or that it was even possible for her to share so much of herself without her emotions getting involved.
Because, oh baby, they were involved, all right. All the freaking way.
But in the heat of the moment—a moment during which he’d radiated pain so intensely that it’d nearly been a physical force in the room—the only thing she’d cared about was making it better.
Standing at the bathroom sink, she applied the last of her mascara and then gave herself a good long look in the mirror. Had she made it better? She didn’t know. But there was something she did know…
I love him.
The admission lodged a jagged knot in her throat. Kristina pressed a hand to her mouth and fought against everything inside her not to let loose the emotion attempting to rip up her throat.
I love him and he left.
She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, knowing she was smudging her mascara but not caring.
Dropping her hands, she shook them out, as if she were suddenly filled with a restless energy that needed to be exorcised. “Okay, okay,” she said. “Stop freaking out. Everything will be fine.”
Of course it would be. This was them. Noah and Kristina.
Right.
She fixed her make-up and, even though she told herself not to, checked her phone for messages again. Nothing.