by Ace Gray
“I didn’t really have time to pack,” I mumbled.
“Can we buy you something else tomorrow?” She was trying to be sweet. I just wanted her to leave me alone.
“Not if it requires leaving the room.”
“Well, I’ll go get you stuff from Walmart.”
I grabbed a pillow and slapped her across the chest with it, pulling out the closest thing to a smile I’d been able to manage in days. It made her laugh.
“Kate, if you want the good stuff you have to leave the room, pick it out, and purchase it yourself. I’m apparently on a budget since I have a two story Chelsea apartment to buy.”
“You can have the apartment if you just go buy me normal clothes.”
“As tempting as that sounds,” she mused with her hand stroking her chin. “If you’re going to live here and I’m going to live there, I’ve got to get you out of zombie mode by my two o’clock flight on Sunday.”
“What day is it?” I’d lost track.
“Friday. Late.”
“You really aren’t going to make me go back?” I hadn’t meant to sound so pathetic. She shrugged and pursed her lips into an interesting grimace. “Well then, I guess you just got a shopping buddy.”
“By the end of the day tomorrow, I need to see a shower, shopping, a decent meal, and at least two shots. We’re on the accelerated grieving program,” she added. “For those prone to exceptional dramatics.”
I could have rolled my eyes. Or shot something snarky back but it seemed so much more important that she actually understood.
“You’re going to have to accept that I’m not being dramatic. I’m not going to recover from this. Not like before.” I slipped into her lap, the way I would have into…
No! Don’t think about him.
She aimlessly combed her fingers through my hair. Eventually, I fell asleep, and it was fractionally more restful than the past nine nights. At least I didn’t wake screaming or orgasming or something even more ridiculous.
Day ten: I’m glad she’s here. Hey, look at that. I still can feel glad… Sort of.
I slunk out of bed, leaving her crashed on the opposite side. Even in the dark, rain rivers twisted down the glass. I tried desperately not to compare the color of night to His eyes the last time we’d spoken. It was a complete failure and my damned tears started to fall like the raindrops worming their way down the large pane of glass.
There was nothing I could do except try and put one foot in front of the other now. Metaphorically anyhow. That required finding my damned cell phone. I crawled around the living room on all fours until I spotted it beneath an ottoman. I sat back against the couch and flipped it on.
What stood out from the 137 missed calls was the name that didn’t appear. Bryant’s. Even this many days later. Though the voicemail list sat in front of me, I couldn’t force myself to listen to them. I decided my best bet was to leave a simple one for Gemma. I would let her know I wasn’t a contact for Vesper anymore. It wasn’t my company.
Emails presented a far more daunting list. And still no Bryant. I set the phone aside, overwhelmed by it all and the wave of nausea that came with it.
Why couldn’t he have meant nothing? Why couldn’t he have been a fast fuck like so many others? Why did I let him in? Why did the one man who’d ever captured my heart have to be so fucked up?
Nicholas Bryant, with his stupid words and promises, his temperamental nature, his overall perfection. He’d matched me so amazingly well and now it was all gone. If I was honest with myself, I didn’t think he cheated. But he hadn’t been honest, nor had he been there when I needed him most, and those betrayals somehow seemed worse.
I should have expected it. He’d told me about the devastation in his wake. He couldn’t say he loved me. I’d been under the impression it was some deep, dark secret that kept him from saying it. The truth was far more simple, he just hadn’t.
Laura woke early, still on New York time and came to find me in the living room, interrupting my dot counting.
“Didn’t sleep in?” She was testing the waters.
“Didn’t sleep much at all. It’s nothing new.”
“Yeah but it’s starting to show.”
“It was starting to show two weeks ago. This whole thing has only made it worse.” My hand fluttered about, trying to wave it off. She nodded and I could tell she was scheming ways to get me out of the room. I sighed. “Just tell me what you want me to do today, Laura. I’ll do it.”
“I want you to be happy.”
“Not going to happen.”
“I want you to come back to New York.”
“Nope.”
“I want you back at Vesper.”
“Strike three.”
She narrowed her eyes and I braced for a torrent of anger. I was grateful when her arms fell to her side.
“Can I talk you in to getting dressed?” I rolled my eyes at her question. “At least wear something of mine to the store. I don’t want them to think I’m bringing in a hobo to use the restroom.”
“You’re so kind.”
“And pretty.” She batted her eyelashes at me.
Laura retreated into the room and grabbed leggings and a sweater out of her suitcase. She was shorter than me but overall a similar size. I snatched them from her and started to change right there in the living room.
“Nope, nope, nope. No way are you putting on my things like that. Go shower.” Her arm flew in the direction of the master bath. I glowered at her but she didn’t flinch. My lips pursed when I finally gave in and shuffled off.
I set the clean clothes on the counter and peeled out of the ones I’d been wearing for days. Naked in front of the mirror, I looked downright ill. There were slight marks on my shoulder and hip from Ally, the scar I’d always had on the other shoulder was more prominent then it had ever been. There were still the awful bags under my eyes, and the off-putting skin pallor, but I looked past that at how gaunt and angular I’d become. My breasts were smaller, my hips were non-existent besides the pointy bones that had become infinitely more noticeable. Like my hips, my ribs were far too obvious.
Fuck me.
I sighed as I slipped into the shower and let the warm water rush over me. It wasn’t awful. The water cascaded and cocooned my body and felt good. I could do this more often. No blood pooled in the drain, no dying Trevor flashed when my eyes sagged closed.
Then, before I could stop myself, I started thinking of other showers I’d taken. The ones when Bryant cared for me like I was something precious. I tried to shove the memories down deep but they caught in my throat and kept me from breathing properly.
I shot out of the bathroom still dripping, only to find Laura helping herself to a homemade breakfast. She hadn’t been there 12 hours and she was putting the amenities to better use than I had. I couldn’t fathom using the butler service. The omelets and bacon she’d ordered made my stomach flip. Laura had more than a few choice words when I declined everything but a bite of toast. Her harping fell on deaf ears. I’d be lucky if I ever had an appetite again.
We battled about driving to the burbs for Saks but I dug my heels in spectacularly, so we ended up at the Nordstrom across the street. Laura and the personal shopper she recruited did most of the work as I sat, slumped in the fitting room, nodding yes or no at their picks. Eventually they considered me outfitted and we had everything delivered to the hotel.
As soon as Laura let me, I returned to bed.
I don’t know how long it took for Laura to creep into the master bedroom and hover by the door. When she did, she was clicking away on an iPhone.
“I’m gonna go see my dad, you wanna come?”
“Not really up to it.” I sighed. “I’ll make sure I go to Sunday supper soon. You know I love him.”
“I’ll let him know.” It was her turn to sigh. She didn’t leave
but she didn’t speak either. I sensed something was coming, I just wasn’t sure what.
“Look, I have some news, Kate.” Her voice was off.
Oh, God, no…
The hole in my chest tightened. If she said something about Him I would die. Literally die.
“What?” She had to hear the fear in my voice.
“Nothing bad. It should be good news. We should be celebrating but…” She let the words hang in between us.
“Okay.” I turned over to find her pinched face but stayed buried in the comforter.
“Vesper got the Olympic Team contract. Your designs are going to be on the largest athletic stage in the world.”
I sucked in a deep breath trying to shake the giant sucker punch she’d just landed to my stomach.
“I’m sorry. Should I have kept quiet?”
“No. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.” My hands moved to clutch my sides.
“You should go back. You should get credit for this.” This wasn’t a plea, her eyes stayed flat and she picked at her manicure as she said it.
“It’s Bryant’s company now. I couldn’t change the ownership if I wanted to.” I almost choked on His name. Laura winced when I said it. She watched me from the door for a little while then turned to leave the hotel all together.
The hours passed slowly without her. Even like this, I missed her presence. My body ached and my eyelids drooped so I purposely flipped back the covers and turned on the TV, hoping it would keep me awake.
I hate that I miss him.
Or did I miss him? Did I just miss the version of myself I was with him—whole and alive?
My phone buzzed next to the bed and I caught the flash of Laura’s name and the block letters below of her text. When I unlocked the phone and pulled up the text messages, I realized I’d never looked through this folder. If possible, there were more texts than phone calls and emails combined. I tried to focus on Laura’s words—something about pizza—but one message stood out.
Please don’t do this. Come back. I’m begging you.
Nick had wanted me back.
Day ten just became the worst one yet.
My heart broke. Or the hole bottomed out. There weren’t really words to describe the feeling, but my hands flew to my chest and pressed hard, hoping to keep the bones in place. It was suddenly a very real fear that my skeleton would explode, or implode, or disintegrate, or something. The only positive was that I was going to black out from lack of oxygen long before I found out.
At the last moment, I gasped, and the violent intake of air unfroze me, my fingers clutched the phone and I threw it against the nearest wall. I flopped back into the pillows, hoping the tight wrap of the comforter would somehow keep me from coming unhinged.
Eventually I fell into a restless sleep, unsure if I was composed or completely dead inside. I tossed and turned as Bryant’s eyes haunted my dreams. These weren’t his passionate, heated eyes. They were his sad, tormented steely ones.
I reached out for his face and he leaned into my palm. I let my other hand move up to his cheek to cradle his perfect, sad face, before pulling his lips to mine. Even after all this time, I remembered what they felt like. Home.
I pushed every emotion I’d ever had for him into that kiss and his arms slowly snaked up my back. He pulled my naked body closer to his then trailed kisses down my neck and across my collarbone, before returning to my lips and biting the bottom one. I moaned at the sharpness of his teeth and the sweet, saltiness of his taste. Without warning, he twisted me and pressed my front up against the shower tiles. His erection pressed against my ass as his strong frame pinned me down.
One of his hands moved to the side of my body and stroked up and down my ribs. The trails he traced lit my skin on fire. Every inch of me tingled and trembled when he pressed one finger up inside of me. He started slowly but when he added a second finger, his pace increased. He pulled my hips closer and closer until I couldn’t find an inch of my back that wasn’t pressed firmly to his front.
I was panting against the cool, dry tile, my nipples beaded and brushed against the porcelain. His hands knew where to push and press inside of me to make me scream. I recognized the smell of him, the rhythm of us together, the way he made me call out. It was like we hadn’t lost any time together. My body arched under him and I tried to urge him deeper.
A sharp nip on my shoulder quieted my body just before he turned the cascade of water on. He spanked me once, hard, before he pulled me into the warmth with him. I raised my hand to push hair from my cheek and got confused when the water there ran cold.
I woke to a dark room again. The cold shower water was really tears that had been streaming down my cheeks while I slept. This was torture. I needed sleep because I was truly exhausted, but the vivid memories of Bryant were as bad, if not worse, than the ones of Trevor or Ally. I was starting to think that something had snapped inside of me, that I’d broken on a much deeper level than I ever imagined.
Day eleven: I’m at a complete loss.
Words couldn’t describe the feeling anymore. Was it pain? Was it mourning? Was it just complete emptiness? I sighed and tried to focus harder on the ceiling dots. They weren’t enough. Nothing could take my mind from those tiny block letters of the text sitting on my phone.
5:57 a.m. I wanted to keep hiding from anything and anyone, but it wasn’t working anymore. I crawled out of bed and called down to the concierge to order food. Nothing sounded good but going through the motions was something.
Right?
When the butler service arrived, I forced myself to pick up the newspaper that they’d been delivering each morning. My hands shook a little as I turned the pages. I flipped slowly, wary of what the next page would bring. I did my best to focus on my coffee rather than how close the business section was getting. The dark black Stumptown coffee that used to be my life-force was brutal on my stomach.
I pushed it aside and ordered ginger tea and baguette from the butler instead. Focusing on the honey I was pouring rather than paper, I finally flipped to business. The tea and freshly baked bread did nothing to settle my stomach. Neither did the lack of New York-based news.
Would I always have his name in the back of my mind? Would I always be nervous to stumble across a mention of him?
Yes.
Broken was a very apt description. There was something defective about me now. No wonder coffee tasted so wrong.
Laura finally crept out of her room, tiptoeing so as not to wake me. I rolled my eyes and cleared my throat. The noise made her jump, and her face had me shaking my head as I flipped aimlessly through the paper landing on the crossword puzzle.
Normal people do crosswords, right?
I tried to force my attention on the puzzle the way I’d forced myself to count dots on the ceiling. It wasn’t working. Laura sat down for coffee and picked up her phone. She was chattering to New York after five minutes. Business mixed with that city gave me a truly mind numbing headache. The crossword got infinitely more difficult. My teeth started to grind and the familiar feel of my temper bubbled up in my throat. I slammed the pencil down and it rolled across the table as I glared at Laura on her cell. She arched her eyebrows and returned a look, but her voice didn’t falter.
Perhaps a bottle of scotch.
I ordered a bottle of Balvenie thinking it would be nice to be numb rather than nauseous for a while. When the concierge knocked, Laura still hadn’t stopped talking but she answered the door. Even from the table her shaking her head was obvious as she relieved Mr. Barrett of the bottle. I shrugged as she handed it over.
Laura chattered the morning away while I sipped and watched her. I was deep in thought and scotch when she finally broke away.
“You really think that’s the answer?” Laura studied me from across the table.
“Tequila was your solution last time.”
“So what’s your point? And how does it lead to me to staying sober?” I sipped in defiance.
To my surprise, she slumped her shoulders and shook her head. “I’m afraid you’re slipping into the abyss this time.” She walked over to the windows. “Last time you were a little raw, a little lost, but I never really worried about you. Even with your parent’s I knew you’d find your bearings eventually.” She sighed. “This time…” she faded off again.
We sat in silence in the main room of the suite. She turned and held my gaze for a little while as if searching for something. I couldn’t force my face to reassure her. Without warning, she turned and barreled into her room. My eyebrows climbed up my forehead but otherwise I didn’t move. The sound of Laura slamming dresser drawers echoed through the room a second later and, in solidarity, I slammed my scotch. My legs almost betrayed me when I got up but I managed to walk to her room and prop myself up against the door.
“You think it’s different this time because it is.” I was admitting it to myself as much as to her. “I’m lost and I don’t know how to find myself again. All I know is that I can’t be the person I was before. It will break me. I lost that ability to be strong when I lost Him. You were worried he’d break me, but really, he built me up. I’m ashamed to admit I want him back. After everything, he’s the only thing that would make this horrific, sickly feeling go away. But I know I can’t trust him, I can’t depend on him. That puts me in this shit place where I can neither have him, nor get better.” A sob wracked my chest.
“I feel betrayed. And not just by him, but by myself. I should have seen this coming. I usually can. I feel foolish. And hurt and angry and broken and more depressed than I thought possible. I remember why I shut everyone out when my parents died. This feeling of complete and utter loss is brutal and easier to deal with when you don’t have to deal with anything.” My shoulders shook in time with my ribs.