We lay together, him holding me as my mind comes back down to earth. I need space.
“Where are you going?” He presses me tighter against him.
“To the bathroom and to get some water. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll get the water.”
“No, stay. I’ll be right back.” I untangle my body from his and reach for my robe. When I get to the bathroom, I stare at myself in the mirror and feel the lump forming in my throat.
My once perfectly styled hair is now wild and untamed. Pink scruff marks cover my cheeks and neck from his stubble. There’s a large hickey on the side of my breast that I have no recollection of how it got there.
This morning, I would have giggled at the image reflecting back at me. But now, I’m hollow. Hurt crashes down upon me at the fact that this can’t happen again.
I have to get away. Being around him only weakens me more. He says that I own him, but the truth is that he owns me.
I quickly wash my face and throw my hair back into a ponytail, thinking of what to do next. Before I can stop myself, I grab a bottle from my medicine cabinet and pour out two pills.
He’s braced on an elbow, watching the door when I exit. I shuffle to the kitchen and get two glasses of water, dissolving the pills into his.
When I get back to my room, he’s propped up on the headboard, all the pillows behind him.
I know this move. He expects me to lay on top of him, to fall asleep curled into his body like we’ve done so many times before. The lump returns to my throat as I hand him his water and crawl in.
“Greer, we need to talk about this. Sex is great, but that wasn’t sex. At least, not the kind of sex we share. You’re not fooling me; it’s written on your face. You’re retreating. I can’t let that happen.”
“Not now, Lawson. I can’t take much more tonight.”
“Baby, I know that, but I can’t let you go to sleep with any doubts in your mind.”
“I’m going to have a lot of doubts for a long time. Talking about them isn’t going to make them magically disappear. Can we discuss this later? Can you do that for me?”
His determined expression softens, and he nods, swallowing his water in one gulp and placing his glass on the nightstand. “I’ll do anything for you. If you want to discuss it later, we will. But tell me you believe me when I say I love you.”
The words sting even more than before, and I avoid his eyes, sliding down next to his side. “That is one thing I do believe, Lawson.”
He turns off the bedside lamp and positions me on top, cocooning me to him. We remain silent except for the low sound of his lips kissing my forehead. I pretend to sleep, waiting for the pills to kick in.
After what seems like forever, his hold grows slack and his breathing becomes labored. I wiggle free, stopping a few times to make sure he’s completely out. He doesn’t budge.
I tip-toe to my bathroom and turn on the light, cracking the door so I can see my way around my room. Quietly, I shuffle between my dresser and closet, pack a bag with necessities, and change into jeans and Lawson’s NYU sweatshirt. He wore it yesterday, and the scent of his cologne lingers.
When I’m done, I take one last look at him in my bed sleeping peacefully. His chest rises and falls with each breath, and my eyes roam over every inch of his exposed flesh. A chill coats my skin, missing the warmth of his embrace. Pain slices though my stomach, and I force one foot in front of the other, leaving the room.
Suddenly, a thought pops into my head and I wonder if slipping him two sleeping pills was a bad idea. What if he has an adverse reaction?
I find his phone in the pocket of his jacket lying on the floor and send a quick text to Clay. I then grab my own phone and clutch off the ground, slipping his key off my keyring.
By the time I reach my door, tears are flowing freely. Agony I didn’t know was possible weighs on my chest as my heart finally splinters into a million pieces.
Chapter 20
Lawson
“You look like a fucking panhandler.” Clay waltzes in my office with Janice on his heels.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“You may be here physically, but your head is somewhere else completely.”