“I don’t want it. It’s too much! I can’t do it, Ethan!” I pushed against his chest.
“Jesus Christ! You let me bring you to my house and f**k you wildly but you won’t sleep in my bed for a few hours?” He brought his face down to mine. “Talk. Why are you scared here with me?”
He looked hurt and sounded more than a little offended. And I felt like a cruel bitch on top of being an emotional, f**ked-up mess. He also looked beautiful in his faded jeans and soft grey t-shirt. His hair was all mussed and he needed a shave around his goatee, but he looked as devastatingly gorgeous as usual, even more so because I was seeing the intimate Ethan, the one he did not show in public.
I started crying again and telling him I was sorry. I really meant it too. I was sorry that parts of me were damaged and broken but it didn’t change the facts either.
“I’m not scared with you. It’s so complicated, Ethan. I’m—I am sorry!” I scrubbed at my face.
“Shhhhhhh…there’s nothing to be sorry for. You just had a bad dream.” Ethan reached for a box of tissue beside the bed and handed it to me. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” I managed to sputter through three tissues.
“That’s fine, Brynne. When you feel comfortable you can if you want to.” His hand rubbing circles on my back felt wonderful, I just didn’t want to close my eyes again in case I fell back to sleep. He pulled me down on the mattress with him. “Let me hold you for a while?”
I nodded.
“I’ll be right here until you fall asleep and if you wake and you don’t see me, I’m just across the main room in my office. The light will be on. I would never leave you alone in my house. You’re totally safe here with me. Security guy, remember?”
I grabbed more tissues and blew my nose; utterly wreaked and mortified at the situation. I did my best to bluff my way out of it though, and I knew what I was going to do. I gave a soft laugh at his joke and let him tuck me back into his bed. I faced his chest and breathed in the scent I absolutely loved and tried to remember how beautiful it was. I focused on the feel of Ethan holding me safe, and the warmth of his big body. I tried to capture it all in my head, because I would not get this experience again.
I pretended to fall sleep.
I evened my breathing and faked it. And after a while I felt him slide off the bed and slip out of the room. I even heard the sound of his bare feet padding across the wooden floor. I watched the clock and gave it another five minutes before I got up.
I walked out into Ethan’s living room buck-ass naked and scooped up my clothes. I removed his deep purple tie from the pile and smoothed it before draping it over the arm of his sofa, folded in half. I wished I could take it with me as a remembrance.
I got myself dressed quickly in front of the huge glass window and held my shoes in my hand rather than put them on my feet. I picked up my duffel and headed for the door. I could feel his se**n wet between my legs, draining out, and the thought made me want to weep. Everything felt wrong now. I had ruined it.
Once I was out the front door, I ran for the elevator and pushed the call button. I shoved my shoes on my feet and dug around in my bag for a brush. I dragged that brush through my I’ve-just-been-fucking hair in brutal sweeps. The poor tangled mess didn’t stand a chance but it was better than nothing. The lift arrived and I hopped on, stowing my brush and checking my wallet for cab fare as I descended.
When I emerged into the lobby the doorman greeted me. “May I assist you, madam?”
“Err…yes, Claude? I need to get home. Can you help me hire a cab?” I sounded desperate even to my ears. No telling what Claude might be thinking.
He did not show the slightest reaction though as he picked up a phone. “Ahhh, there we have one coming in now.” Setting down the phone, Claude came around from behind his desk and held the lobby door open for me. He helped me to the cab and shut me in. I thanked him, gave the driver my address and looked out the window.
The view into the elegant lobby was clear at night so I could see when Ethan burst out of the elevators and spoke to Claude. He ran outside but my cab was already in motion. He threw up his arms in frustration and rolled his head back. I could see his feet were still bare. I could see the look of confusion and utter despair on his face when our eyes met—me inside the car and him on the street. I could see Ethan. And it was probably the last time I ever would.
6
The glorious smell of coffee woke me up. I looked at my alarm clock and knew there would be no Waterloo Bridge run this morning. I came out to the kitchen with my arm over my eyes.
“Just how you like it, Bree, sweet and creamy.” My sometime roommate and dear friend Gabrielle slid the mug in my direction, the expression on her face clearly readable. Start spilling the dish, sister, and I won’t hurt you.
I love Gaby but this thing with Ethan had so derailed me I just wanted to bury the knowledge of its existence and pretend he’d never happened.
I reached for the steaming mug and inhaled the delicious scent. It reminded me of him for some reason and I felt the bubble of emotion rise up strong. I sat down at the kitchen bar and crowded around my coffee mug like a mother hen protecting her chick. As I lowered onto the stool, the tenderness between my legs just served as another reminder. A reminder of Ethan and his hot body and model looks and the fabulous sex…and how I’d woken up in his bed hysterical. I gave up the joke of trying to be brave and let the tears come.
It took some time, two cups of coffee, and a move to the couch to get the story out of me. But Gaby is pretty good that way. She’s relentless.
“I silenced your phone two hours ago. That duffel bag was making so much damn noise I wanted to kick it.” Gabrielle stroked my head resting on her shoulder. “You’ve got voicemails and text messages up the wazoo. I think the poor thing was about to blow, so I saved it a cataclysmic death and shut the f**ker off.”
“Thank you, Gab. I’m so glad you’re here this morning.” And I meant that. She was like me in a lot of ways. A California native in London, studying conservancy and running from shit back home that haunted her. The only difference was that her father actually lived in London so she was not totally on her own here in the UK. We’d found each other during that first week of classes nearly four years ago and never really let go. She knew my dark secrets and I knew hers.
“Me too.” She patted me on the knee. “And you’re going to make an appointment with Dr. Roswell, and make plans to go clubbing with Benny and me, and a stop into Charbonnel et Walker so we can gorge ourselves on sinfully rich chocolate.” She tilted her head. “Sound good to you?”