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To hell with Thomas. To hell with men.
She had her kids and her memories of Michael. They were all she needed. And right now, she had every intention of flagging down a cab and going home to a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream. She could spend her night in her pajamas, watching chick flicks, and sobbing into her tub of mint-chocolate calorie overload.
After she got rid of Jeremy and Erica.
Her vision blurred. She wiped at her eyes with a curse and pushed past the elevator doors before they fully had a chance to open, stalking out into the lobby. The front desk staff was probably staring at her, but hell. It was Vegas. They should be used to seeing crying women storm out of hotels.
A door banged open behind her, and Thomas’s voice rose in a ragged shout. “Brianna!”
She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see him lunge out of the stairwell. No. She couldn’t face him right now. Couldn’t face his excuses and whatever reasons he wanted to spill out just to make him feel better about himself. Just so he could get his closure. She’d been through it too many times, only before it had been just casual dates during the brief period she’d spent venturing into the dating pool.
It hadn’t been a man she’d thought she’d fallen in love with and could see herself with for the rest of her life.
His voice chased her, but she ignored him and walked faster, the impact of each sharp-clicking step quivering up through her heels. She pushed the lobby door open so hard it jingled and bounced off the outside wall and nearly ran across the parking lot. It was getting harder and harder to see. She needed to get home before she busted out bawling. And goddammit, if he didn’t stop calling her name—
“Brianna, if you’d just let me explain—”
“No!” She whirled and glared at him. “You said you don’t want to date me anymore. And I’m fine with that. Okay? I’m trying to make this easy for you. For both of us. So just leave me alone. I don’t want you near my kids—or me.” Inspiration struck. She knew how to make him feel better—while simultaneously leaving her alone. “I was going to call it off between us, anyway.”
“O-Oh.” His face crumpled. His outstretched hand dropped to his side; his other hand was hidden behind his back. For a moment her heart broke. How could he look at her like that? Like she’d torn his heart out, when he was the one who’d just decided to break things off with her, in the damned elevator of all places?
“I just can’t. I can’t.” She backed away a few steps, then turned and ran. She barely saw the crosswalk, only knew the light was red and the little man was telling her it was safe to walk to the southbound side of the street and flag down a cabbie who was going her way. Even better, there was a bus pulling up to the curb; public transit worked just as well. Anything with wheels that pointed somewhere toward home. She ran faster. She probably looked stupid, bolting in front of traffic in heels with tears running down her cheeks.
As long as it got her away from him, she didn’t care.
The light changed just as she reached the sidewalk and nearly fell against the signpost when one of her three-inch heels twisted underneath her and nearly pitched her to the sidewalk. The bus was easing forward. She struggled upright and ran for it.
“Wait!”
The bus slowed, lights flashing. The door opened, and she stumbled up the steps, fumbling in her purse for change. Fuck. Fuck, she could still hear him, calling her name, begging her to wait.
“Go,” she told the driver. “Now!”
The man stared at her strangely. She must look a fright, sweaty and red-faced with her eyes brimming with tears and her hair flying everywhere. She shoved a dollar bill into the slot with shaking fingers. The doors started to squeak closed, and the bus rolled forward.
“Bri—”
Thomas never finished. His voice broke off in a sharp cry. Brianna turned so quickly she nearly stumbled. Thomas had thrust his hand into the door, stopping it from closing, and it was caught, clenched tight between the folding accordion halves and squeezing tighter.
And the bus was still moving.
The momentum dragged him forward so sharply his entire body smacked into the side of the vehicle. Cries of curiosity and surprise rose from the back of the bus. Someone shouted something about 911. Thomas’s face crushed against the glass door with a sickening crunch that turned Brianna’s stomach, and blood blossomed from his nose.
“Thomas!”
“Shit, man!” the bus driver cried, slamming on the brakes. He yanked the door release. It slammed open, releasing Thomas’s arm. He staggered back, clutching his nose with a hand turned nearly purple. His eyes were wide, dazed.
“I dink du broke by dose,” he said thickly.
Brianna tumbled down the steps. “Oh God, are you all right? What were you thinking? Why would you do that?”
His eyes focused slowly. He looked at her, and then smiled. It was the most ridiculous smile she’d ever seen, with blood streaming down from his swollen and reddened nose—and it was almost heartbreakingly sweet. “Du wuddin listhen. I hadda gatch du.”
The tears that had been threatening were so close to spilling over. She reached up to touch his swelling face gingerly; he hissed and flinched. She bit her lip. That idiot. He couldn’t even talk, and he was still standing there smiling at her.
“Nothing you could say is worth hurting yourself like this,” she said.
“Dumthink ish. Du diddin leg be dell du.” His smile widened. “Du diddin leg be gib du thig.”
