12
Jude looks at me with sympathy, "He left seconds after you did. I'm sorry, Sam. I had no idea." A few of the people that witnessed the scene look like they're waiting for another explosion.
I try for a small smile, "Yeah me either." I shrug.
I leave work an hour later after writing up another job ad to replace Anna. As I leave I put up the wanted sign in the window and say goodbye to Jude and George.
I forgo the market to head straight home. The card in my purse is nearly forgotten with the other things on my mind.
I unlock the lower entry and see a small woman locking the downstairs unit. She's wearing a pink uniform and carrying a white handled tote filled with cleaning supplies. She doesn't speak when she passes me, but knowing she has keys to the building bothers me.
I check the mail and find it empty.
Once inside, I contact the alarm company and order cameras to be installed inside and out of my studio. I'm in luck, and they can have someone here tomorrow at two.
Now that Anna is gone, I'll need to work tomorrow, but I'm sure I can get home before they arrive. Gina will be there, and Jess doesn't leave until three, with Jude coming in around two. They should be okay for a few hours without me.
There's nothing left for me to do, so I decide a little self torture is in order. I open my laptop and typeChris Huntingtoninto the search bar to learn about the illusive man, who turned out to not be so elusive.
His Wikipedia page pops up first, followed by photo upon photo of the man that I knew as Beau. I click the first link, discovering where he got Beau from. It’s his middle name. It isn’t clear if Winchester has any significance.
Everything listed tells me more about the stranger I thought I knew. The top of the page has more information about him than I learned in over a month talking with him.
Birthday: August 11th
Height: 6ft 3in
Weight: 201-219
The list goes on and on from his bicep and waist measurements to his shoe size. Followed by every detail about his career imaginable, including single appearances on sitcoms.
I scroll down to his personal life. It feels so wrong to read it, and I am punished immediately for doing so. The list of women associated with him is extensive. He doesn't seem to favor blonde over brunette, he even dated a few red-haired women. The one thing they all have in common is their tiny size. Every one of them could be a model. Most are with the others being actresses.
His engagement to a Lauren Frett is in the last paragraph, it is a mere nine months ago. He gave the actress a glittery diamond ring from a brand she is the spokesmodel of, at a very public proposal that took place at a friend’s winery in Napa.
No date has been set as of this time.
The picture posted is beautiful. She is beautiful. Her hair is a deep brown and her skin is sun-kissed. Her hazel eyes look directly at the camera and her head is tipped back in a smile that is equal parts luminous and sexy.
What's worse though is that Beau looks like there is no one else in the room but her. He wears a smile that I've never seen.
I can’t believe I had no idea who is was. I feel like an idiot.
I close the laptop and wipe away tears that leaked out as I read.
I'm filled with more questions than I'll ever have answers to. Will he tell her, he cheated? Did I mean anything, beyond a lay, before he goes off to get married? Where is she? And the biggest, why?
Why not just leave me alone? How could he be that callous?
Does he do this kind of thing often? I find myself questioning everything about him. His character. His kindness. His gentleness and playfulness. Who is Chris Huntington? Certainly not my Beau. The man I know shares very little with the image painted by his Wikipedia page. Unless, he played him in a movie.
I avoid the other half of my home, like I'll explode if my feet get closer than fifty feet to my bed. I make dinner, watch tv, shower, and get ready for bed, all without looking even once at my sheets. I contemplate sleeping on the sofa but decide there's no use in it.
I'll have to sleep there eventually anyway.
Sooner than I'd like, I climb between my sheets. I'm pretending I don’t feel like changing them, when in reality I want to be able to smell his scent linger. Just one more moment with Beau before it fades, leaving only the memory. I bury my nose in the pillow he slept on, but he’s not there. Beau’s gone, and a man named Chris has replaced him.
I wake the next morning after what feels like seconds after closing my eyes. The morning goes quickly. It’s punctuated with awkward apologies both given by me and directed at me. The only consolation I get is hearing people call Chris a bastard throughout my day.
