Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
“If you need to,” Darian says. “I know you can handle yourself, but you should know that we’ll worry.”
I can’t help but soften at his words. “I appreciate your concern, but I really am fine. I’m not worried; I’m just exhausted.”
“Get some rest,” Troy says, wrapping me in his arms for a hug that makes me want to cry.
Dante hugs me next, then Darian, with a kiss on my forehead. Leo just gives me a long, serious look. “Call us anytime,” he says, not looking away until I nod my agreement.
And then they’re gone.
I find my glass of wine from earlier and lean against the kitchen counter, taking long sips, wishing it was something stronger, but knowing that getting drunk isn’t going to do me any favors.
Getting drunk is more or less how this all started. Drinking and ogling men at Club Red, fantasizing about things I had no business wanting.
Of course, I don’t regret any of it. I can’t, and I won’t, but I also can’t continue seeing them.
Nick had no business coming over here, but maybe he’s right about me making a fool of myself. I should have at least kept my fantasies behind closed doors instead of going out with the men.
I suppose his mother said something to him. Maybe people in the neighborhood are talking, too. He used to play golf with a few of the men who live nearby, and maybe he still does.
Are they laughing at me, thinking I’m pitiful, or that I’m behaving like I’m desperate? Are they calling me a whore?
I know I shouldn’t care, but I can’t help it. Especially when I know it wasn’t right. I never belonged with those men.
My phone has several text messages and a couple of missed calls in the morning, all of them from the four men.
“Everything is fine. Thank you for your concern,” I text back in a group message, wondering if my reply sounds too cold.
“No return visits?” Leo asks immediately.
“No.”
But a few hours later, there is a call from Nick, which I reluctantly answer.
“Can I come by and apologize?” he asks.
“Apologizing by phone is fine.”
“I’d like to see you, and I’d like to explain.”
“You can come over after six,” I tell him, figuring it will be best to get this over with and keep things cordial between us. One thing I learned during our long separation is that being angry at him only hurts me.
I eat an early dinner, wishing there were still lasagna leftovers even as I smile at the memory of the men eating them, and pour myself a generous glass of wine. There’s a quiet knock on the front door at five minutes after six.
My ex has the good sense to look sheepish. His eyes look tired. “Can I come in?”
Wordlessly, I open the door wider and retreat to the living room without waiting for him. A moment later, he appears, shifting uncomfortably before taking a seat in the chair opposite my spot on the couch. I take a sip of my wine without bothering to offer him any.
“I am very sorry about last night,” he says after clearing his throat. “I was out of line.”
“Yes, you were.”
“I was worried about you, Rai.”
I level him with a skeptical and disapproving look, not bothering to respond to his nonsense.
“And I miss you.”
Okay, I wasn’t expecting that, but I keep my expression neutral.
“Are you with that man who was here?”
“Legally, that’s no longer your business. You don’t hear me asking if you’re still with Courtney, do you?”
It should give me pleasure when he winces, but it doesn’t.
He fidgets for a moment and then gets up, walking toward the back door to stare through the glass. “I made a huge mistake,” he says finally, still facing away from me.
You certainly fucking did, I think, but I keep silent.
“I was a fool and got caught up in flattery. Someone else wanted me, and it felt good.”
Now it’s my turn to wince, the implication of his words reminding me that I hadn’t made him feel wanted. This is ground we’ve covered before, minus the part where he said he made a mistake.
He comes back and sits again, perching at the edge of the chair, his hands clasped between his legs. “It took me too long to realize what I was throwing away, and I’m so sorry about that. I’m sorry for hurting you.”
I’m sorry for making him feel unwanted, but I refuse to say it. Of our sins, mine was the lesser. I didn’t cheat on him. I didn’t leave.
“I miss you like crazy, and I came to see if there was any way you might consider taking me back.”
There’s not enough wine in the house to help me process what I’m hearing.
38
Lorraine
As if he knows I’m about to object, Nick launches into a more detailed apology and talks about how good things were between us, painting a very rose-colored picture of our past.