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Finally, I will myself to leave and let the penthouse door close behind me and make my way back to my room to get ready for the rest of my life.
Gray is on my mind every second from leaving.
My plane ride home is completely miserable. I almost didn’t even want to shower and wash his scent off me, because once I do, I’ll feel that sense of loss all over again.
It’s stupid. He’s not mine. But I had such a great time with him and the things we did are things I’d never normally let a stranger do. And it was liberating.
Until I left.
I have no way of contacting him. I left the ball in his court and I’m kicking myself for not getting his number, too.
I want to slap some sense into myself. And at the same time I want to cry so hard at my stupidity.
It shouldn’t feel like this. I should be cool with how we left things, with what we did, and that I left and will likely never see him again. That’s how these hook-ups work, I realize.
Clearly, I’m a rookie.
Maybe if things get really bad, I’ll just send out an SOS across Nashville, or Alaska, looking for him. That’s when I know I need to knock some sense into myself.
Darby, my best friend, should be able to do that. She’s waiting for me when I land.
She insisted on picking me up instead of grabbing a cab.
“Well, look at you!” she squeals, giving me a hug. Darby is a pint-sized little thing with long blonde hair to her waist, gorgeous hot pink nails, and a killer smile to die for.
“Darbs!” I drop my carryon and give her a hug. “So good to see you.”
We haven’t caught up in a couple of weeks because we’ve both been so busy. Darby is a cosmetician and works in a beauty salon, offering all the latest high-tech skin revolutions, promising to make you look and feel younger and firmer. If she’s anything to go by, then I’d say it works. The most I’ve ventured into are facials and skin needling. Oh, and I keep up the waxing appointments.
“You look great,” she says, stepping back to assess me. “Damn, girl.”
There’s nothing special about my black juicy couture sweats and sneakers. I always travel as comfortably as possible. I also sport a high ponytail and a Patriots football cap on my head.
“You like my travel garb?” I giggle, doing a playful twirl.
“Yep, since I usually only ever see you in those business clothes you wear.”
I laugh as I reach down to pick up my carryon, while Darby grabs my garment bag, and we make for the exit.
I only packed the one small case and the garment bag that had my work suit in for my meeting and the sexy black dress I wore last night. It’s a wonder I was able to fit everything in, but since I was only in New York for the night, I didn’t exactly need much. “You look just as beautiful as always,” I sigh.
She smiles. “So, I notice I got no reply from my texts last night until this morning, anyway. Could there be a reason why?”
Urgh. Yeah. About that… whoops. “Sorry about that,” I say… trying to think of some viable excuse other than riding the hot business man all night.
“Care to enlighten me?” She grins, raising her eyebrows suggestively. I don’t understand, and never will until this day, how she detects I’m hiding something. I’m not even acting suspicious, or smug, or anything.
“Would you believe me if I said I had an early night?” I laugh.
She narrows her eyes. “Nope, no way. Didn’t happen.”
I give her a sideways glance. “Washing my hair?”
“Tell me you finally had some fun on your one night away?” She holds her hands together in prayer as we walk and she swings my garment bag back and forth as we walk outside and navigate our way to the parking lot.
I can't help but giggle when I think about what we did, even though the pain of leaving him remains dull in my chest.
Maybe talking to Darby about this will help me navigate my way around it, and what the protocol is now. Am I going to spend the rest of my life thinking about the one perfect, hot night I had with this guy? Will I ever see him again?
