My stomach swirls as I watch his quickly retreating frame enter the front door of Jorgie’s house. I swallow several times in a row, fighting to keep the bile in my stomach from surging into my mouth. Even in the humid, suffocating air, a cold chill of fear runs the length of my spine. I clutch my stomach when its churning kicks up a gear.
No longer able to hold in my fear, I lurch over and vomit into the gutter, narrowly missing Roger’s polished shoes. Since I skipped lunch, my body only expels small portions of green bile. Accepting a handkerchief from Roger, I dab the corner of my mouth, removing any leftover smears of vomit before straightening my spine.
After what feels like a lifetime, Hugo exits Jorgie’s front door. His face is gaunt and pale, his shirt has flecks of blood on it, and his eyes are dark and lifeless. He takes a step backward, hesitating when he notices me standing on the sidewalk.
Brushing away a tear tracking down my face, I stare at him. The pain in his eyes amplifies as he returns my stare. So many unspoken words drift between us as we stand across from each other staring, but not speaking. Our intensely searing stare down only stops when Hugo’s boss emerges from Jorgie’s house. His dark eyes drift between Hugo and me for several heart-clutching seconds before they lock with Hugo.
Hugo’s eyes snap to mine when his boss mutters something in his ear. Although I can’t hear what his boss is saying, I know the news he is delivering isn’t good, because Hugo has the same look in his eyes he did when I stumbled out that Jorgie had been in an accident.
My mind spirals, reeling out of control from too many emotions hammering it at once. My breathing stills when Hugo commences walking down the concrete sidewalk. I clutch my chest when he takes a left at the end of the path. I'm standing at his right. He walks three paces away before he suddenly stops. His shoulders rise and fall with every deep breath he takes, but he stays frozen with his back facing me.
My heart wildly beats as I pray for him to turn around, to have the courage to face me, the courage to fight for us. The twisting of my heart amplifies from his slumped, defeated posture. My mind scrambles, trying to think of something to force a reaction out of him, to stimulate him to remember our powerful connection.
Recalling his earlier voicemail message, I yell out, “You don’t say goodbye, you say, ‘I’ll see you later.’”
For once, my prayers are answered when he pivots on his heels and charges for me. His lips crash into mine with so much force, my feet lift from the ground. He braces my back against the car as he kisses the living hell out of me. I kiss him back with just as much passion, expressing everything I wanted to say to him the past six weeks. My sorrow, my apologies, my regret for hurting him with my cruel words. His tongue strokes into my mouth, tasting and absorbing every inch.
He steps closer, pinning me between his imposing body and the car door. A rush of heat pools in my nether regions when the thickness of his cock braces against my pussy and halfway up my stomach. Tears well in my eyes, overwhelmed by how much passion is displayed in our kiss. Every stroke, gentle nip, and soft caress of his lips has my heart enlarging more. He kisses me like a man who owns me. And he does.
By the time he pulls away, my lips are nearly as swollen as my heart. Hugo’s fire-sparked eyes dance between mine as he carefully places me down onto my feet. He lifts his hands to remove the tears dripping down my cheeks, rubbing them away with a sense of urgency. Once he is satisfied all my tear stains have been removed, he cups my face with his hands.
A whizz of air parts my lips when he stares lovingly into my eyes and says, “Goodbye, Ava.”
He turns around and races down the sidewalk even quicker than earlier. I can’t take my eyes off him as he urgently strides to his truck and jumps inside. His tires squeal from his heavy compression on the accelerator. The look on his face when he whizzes past me places a constrictive hold on my heart.
Once the smell of burning rubber is no longer mingling in the air, Roger guides me into the back seat of the town car I'm standing next to. When Roger pulls the Lexus away from the curb, I turn my head in enough time to see Hugo’s boss re-entering Jorgie’s house.
I walk into the foyer of my office building, more confused than ever. Mrs. Gardner’s dark eyes lift to mine as I enter.
“I’m back from lunch,” I say, my voice rattling as I blurt out the first excuse that enters my brain.
* * *
I don’t knowhow I did it. But I manage to fulfill all my patients’ appointments and even took in an emergency case of a little boy whose front tooth was chipped by his brother’s fast curveball. By the time I'm leaving my office, it is a little after nine PM.
Patty greets me with an apprehensive smile when I walk into the foyer of my apartment building. “Good evening, Ms. Westcott.”
“Hi, Patty.”
“Rough day?” he queries, already intuiting what my answer will be.
“I could really go a glass of wine right now,” I answer.
He chuckles softly before pushing the elevator button for me. I stare at the elevator doors, recalling the time the doors opened and I discovered Hugo standing behind them.I'd give anything for him to be standing behind them now, waiting for me.I release the breath I'm holding in when the elevator doors ding open and I discover the car is empty.
I turn my eyes to Patty. “Could you please put in the penthouse floor code for me?” I ask with a shrug of my shoulders. “I…umm… left my coat in Hugo’s apartment.”
I cringe at my pathetic excuse. It is nearly ten PM, and the temperature is still hovering around eighty degrees.
After a beat, Patty says, “I did hear we were supposed to have rain tomorrow.”
My fingernails dig into my palms when Patty pushes the P button on the elevator dashboard and inserts the four digit security code for the penthouse floor.
“I'd hate for you to catch a cold if a cool change comes through with the rain.”
I issue my deepest gratitude with a smile. When the elevator doors snap shut, I check my face in the mirror. I look as horrific as I feel. The thrumming of my pulse increases with every floor the elevator climbs. By the time I reach Hugo’s floor, I'm perspiring profusely. My hand rattles when I lift it to bang on his door.
When Hugo fails to answer my knocks, I stand on my tippy toes and run my hand along the top seal of the door. A grin lifts my lips high when my fingers grasp the spare key the Marshall family members always hide there. After placing the key into the lock, I swing open the front door. My breath hitches halfway between my lungs and my throat.
