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Chapter 16
Abigail
I’m not mad.
I’m not even hurt. Not exactly.
I guess I could be. He shouldn’t have been flirting with me, and kissing me, and more if there was actually another woman. I knew there was going to be another woman. That there was the possibility of another woman. But if there was one who was actually planning a wedding, then he should have stopped it all with me.
But I’m…disappointed.
Really fucking disappointed.
I knew I wanted to kiss Torin again, but until I realized that I’d lost the chance for good, I don’t think I realized how much I wanted to kiss him.
A lot.
I’d say more than I’ve ever wanted to kiss anyone, but that’s not really saying much. I’ve never been that into kissing.
Until Torin O’Grady.
I study the photo I just took. It’s my feet in the hot pink boots he sent me this morning, the heels hooked on the bottom rung of the barstool I’m sitting on. I make sure that it’s clear it’s a barstool.
Why?
Because I’m considering sending this photo to him.
Because I want him thinking about me. Thinking about the fact that I’m out where there might be other men. Other men who might like how these boots look on my feet.
There I said it. Okay, I thought it. Still, I admitted it.
Do I want to make Torin jealous?
Yes.
Dammit.
It’s an airport bar, but he doesn’t need to know that. There are other men here.
I’m on my way to a work site. In Shreveport. I don’t know much about it, but some guy has already bought an IAS system and wants someone there to “go over a few things”.
Lauren didn’t ask me to go so much as she told me she was sending me to handle the last-minute request.
She probably thinks I’m willing to go since it’s home and I could visit my parents. But they made the trip to my dad’s hometown for Ami’s wedding into a mini-vacation and they’re still in Autre.
It’s fine though. Being in Sapphire Falls reminds me of Torin, stupidly. The texts I’ve sent have been from my back porch and bathtub and the bar and it all makes me sad now.
So I’m in the Chicago airport waiting for my connecting flight to Shreveport.
And thinking of him anyway.
I blame it partly on the three hard ciders I’ve had. And I’m sure this time that I’ve drunk three full bottles.
Still, I realize this is childish. And such a waste of time. What if he is jealous? What does that accomplish? Then we’re both upset with emotions that don’t matter and that we can’t, ultimately, do anything about? I will not be some ‘other woman’ or mistress to a prince. I won’t be some secret affair he has while he’s publicly marrying another woman.
Then I frown.
A secret affair should be exactly what I want. Especially the secret part. I don’t want to be in any kind of spotlight. I don’t want anyone knowing anything about my personal life.
