Hd 2 go 2 Boise. Cal u ltr. – D
She frowns as she reads it again. So if he had to go to Boise, then his emergency must have something to do with his family. Why didn’t he just tell her that this morning?
She quickly sends a text back.
I hope everything is okay. – M
Myra chews on her thumbnail as she stares at her phone, waiting for a response. She re-reads his message over and over again, trying to find some kind of hidden meaning in it. She waits and waits but he never responds.
* * *
Myra startles and her mouth drops open when someone knocks on her door. With her heart in her throat, she looks outside and cringes when she sees Jackie.
“Hi. Have you had dinner? I brought Chinese,” Jackie says, holding up a bag. Myra shakes her head before they walk into her the kitchen. “I’m starving. I didn’t even have time to eat today. I placed an ad to replace the guy that quit at the bookstore so I’ve had a couple of responses so I’ve been trying to prepare myself for interviewing people. Have you ever interviewed anyone before?”
Myra shakes her head as she sets the silverware on the table.
“I have no idea how to do it. I’m really great at interviews myself because I have no problems talking with people and everything because I just have that type of personality,” she says, grinning. “But it’s going to be so hard hiring someone. What if I hire the wrong person and it doesn’t work out?”
“Then you fire them.”
Jackie’s eyes widen. “I could never fire someone. That would be terrible. I would feel just awful taking someone’s job away from them especially in this economy. That’s why I have to do this interviewing thing right. What should I do?”
Myra sighs and rubs her temples. “Well, probably the most important thing is to check their references and talk to previous employers. As far as interview questions go, you work in a bookstore. Look it up.”
A huge smile splits Jackie’s face. “I didn’t even think of that,” she says with a giggle. “What would I do without you?”
Myra shakes her head as she takes a bite of her chicken and broccoli and her thoughts drift to Dylan.
* * *
Myra sighs as she picks up her phone again and checks the bars. There’s no problem with her phone, yet she never got a response to her text. And he never called. Sighing, she closes her laptop and makes her way upstairs.
Lying in bed in the dark, clutching the pillow Dylan used last night close to her chest, Myra stares at the green glow of her digital alarm clock. She watches as the numbers slowly change and the minutes and hours tick by.
The fact that Dylan didn’t bother to respond to her truly hurts her. How long does it take to send a text? A couple of seconds? He couldn’t take two seconds to let her know how he was doing? She wasn’t worth the effort? Negative thoughts finagle their way into her mind. Clearly, she meant nothing to him; she was probably just the latest in a string of one-night stands. Why else would he act like this?
The more Myra thinks about it, the angrier she gets. She had a bad feeling about Dylan right from the start. She should have cut things off with him as soon as she found out about Sabrina and he refused to talk. She did this exact same thing with Trent. She knew something was wrong with their relationship yet she ignored her suspicions of him until it was too late. Well, she won’t let that happen again.
She decides to confront Dylan. Tell him that if he wants to be with her then he needs to talk. There can’t be any more secrets between them. She can’t do this anymore.
She frowns when she realizes she doesn’t even have his address. Sitting up, she turns on the light and flips open her laptop. With a quick click of a button, the Google box pops up. Her fingers hover over the keyboard as she stares at it for a minute. Finally, she types in his name and locates his address. In a larger town, she might not be able to find him so easily, but in Nyssa, he can’t hide.
She decides that if she hasn’t heard back from him by morning, she’ll go to his house and demand an explanation. Because it’s time for her to stop letting men crush her. It’s time for her to make some changes in her life.
* * *
Myra’s heart rate quickens when she nears Dylan’s street. Of course she never heard from him. She takes in a deep breath as she turns down the road. She slows, going way under the speed limit as she searches for the house numbers, but immediately spots his truck in the driveway of a small brick ranch-style home. She can’t help but feel somewhat relieved when she sees it. At least he didn’t have to stay in Boise yesterday. But if he didn’t stay, then why didn’t he call her?
She frowns at the black car parked next to his truck, but figures that could be the car he drives when he’s not working. She parks in front of the house and stares at it for a long time, trying to work up the nerve to open her car door. Swallowing hard, she takes in a deep breath and finally opens it. She wipes her sweaty hands on her jeans as she walks towards his front door.
Myra closes her eyes, takes in a deep breath and then blows it out before she knocks. When she doesn’t get an answer, she knocks again. Finally, the door slowly opens.
Her eyebrows pull together sharply as an incredibly gorgeous woman stands before her even more stunning than Dylan’s sister-in-law. Myra’s mouth drops open when she recognizes one of Dylan’s flannel shirts on the stranger. The top several buttons are open and she can see the edges of a lacy red bra. The supermodel yawns and stretches, causing Dylan’s shirt to hike up and show off her lean, long tanned legs.
“Yes?” the beautiful woman asks, as she muffles another yawn with the back of her hand.
Myra’s stomach churns with nausea, but she won’t let herself jump to conclusions like she did with his sister-in-law. This very well could be another sister-in-law or relative. He did have a large family.
Myra clears her throat. “Is Dylan home?”
“He’s asleep.”
“I need to talk to him.”
The model stretches again. “Can you come back? He didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Myra’s stomach jolts. She swallows hard. “It’s important…”
“Who are you?” the woman asks, her perfectly-arched eyebrows scrunching together as she eyes Myra from head to toe.
“I’m Myra, I…” She frowns as she tries to figure out how to introduce herself: as a friend? A client? A one-night stand? A mistake? She clears her throat again. “He’s been doing work on my house…”
The supermodel’s face immediately relaxes. “Oh, okay,” she says with a small smile. “I’ll let him know you stopped by.”
Myra stares at her for a moment. She coughs and clears her throat again, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “And you are?”
“Oh, sorry I’m being so rude. I just woke up,” the supermodel says, laughing softly. “I’m Sabrina. His wife.”
Myra gasps as her heart thunders in her ears. Her eyes widen as her gaze drops to a massive cluster of platinum and diamonds glistening ominously at her from the woman’s left ring finger. Sabrina’s finger. Sabrina. His wife.
Myra’s stomach rolls; she feels faint. She can’t breathe. “Wife?” she says with a heavy breath, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Technically ex-wife, but we're working on that,” Sabrina says with a small smile as she stares down at the ring on her finger.
Myra gulps for air as she swallows down the urge to be sick. She has to get out of here. She has to get away. Her eyes stay fixated on that ring as she stumbles backwards down the stairs. She turns and runs towards her car. When she hears the door close behind her, she startles as tears begin to burn hot in her eyes.
Her hands shake as she grasps the steering wheel. How could he not tell her he was married? How could he have an ex-wife – soon-to-be-wife again – and do all those things he did last night? How could he make her feel the way he did? Make love to her. Make her care for him. What kind of a man would do all of those things knowing he had her w
aiting on him at home?
She bends forward, grasping her stomach as she blows out heavy breaths. The more she thinks about it, the clearer things become. This has to be the big secret he’s been hiding from her. He ran out on her yesterday morning because he had his beautiful wife waiting for him at home. He used her for his pleasure and then ran. He’s a cheating lowlife just like Trent. She feels so stupid for telling him what happened with Trent. He probably laughed to himself over that since he had plans to do the exact same thing.
Her face drops into her hands as she sobs. But she sits up and quickly wipes her eyes on her sleeve because she knows she can’t stay here in front of his house crying over him when his wife probably just slipped into bed and curled up next to him – he does like to cuddle. That thought brings on another round of sobs.
Sniffling, she looks back at the house. Every instinct tells her to run. Running she can do well. She just needs to leave this stupid town and that broken down house. She has nothing tying her here. Maybe she could go back to Philly. That way she could be near Susie again. Staring at Dylan’s house, she starts the engine.
But another, smaller part of her tells her not to run. It tells her to stand up for herself and confront him like she should have with Trent. Confront Dylan and tell him that he can’t treat her like that.
She picks up the hem of her sweatshirt and scrubs it roughly across her eyes. Slouching in her seat, she chews her thumbnail as she stares at the front door, still trying to decide what to do.
If she confronts him and he did get back with his ex, he’ll just deny that anything happened between them anyway, making her look foolish. And it will break her heart even more.
She feels so weak. She doesn’t have the strength to face him. What good will it do anyway?
Quickly wiping her eyes again, her hand reaches for the gearshift, her foot lightly touching the brake pedal. She puts the car in drive, her decision made.
Run.
###
Will Myra run back to Philly? Find out in the upcoming sequel Color of Forgiveness.
Color of Loneliness Page 33