No, not stupid.
Just… hopeful in all the wrong ways.
I sit up. The skin at my neck is tender where he touched. My thighs were trembling earlier from… everything.
And it infuriates me that all of that meant something to me, but not enough to him to stay.
The sheets still smell like him.
That only makes it worse.
Fine. Whatever.
If he can leave this morning like it meant nothing, then I can scrub every reminder of him out of this house.
I gather the sheets in trembling hands and yank them off the bed, balling them tight as my eyes burn. The pillowcases, the throw blanket on the floor, the clothes he half-pulled off me—it all goes in a heap.
I ignore the throbbing in my thighs as I carry everything and shove it into the washer like I’m stuffing a wound closed.
I jam the start button. The machine hums like it’s trying to soothe me. It doesn’t work.
Back upstairs, the air feels colder. My skin prickles. My heart feels like it’s collapsing inward.
Screw this.
I march into the bathroom and turn the shower on, hot enough to fog the mirror instantly. Steam curls up the walls.
I step in, letting the heat sting my skin, leaning back against the tile until water runs through my hair, down my face, over my shaking hands.
I drag my palms over my cheeks. “You’re allowed one fluke,” I whisper into the mist. “Just one. That’s all this was.”
A lie I don’t believe.
I scrub myself clean anyway. Clean of him, clean of the night, clean of the ache.
By the time I step out, the mirror’s dripping, and my hair’s plastered to my shoulders. I wrap myself in a towel and pad barefoot into my bedroom.
I’m calmer. Barely. Enough to breathe. Enough to think.
I’m halfway to my dresser when something digs into my foot.
“Ow—what the…?”
I bend and pick it up. A watch.
Not mine. A man’s watch—silver links, the face sleek and dark, the hands gliding in a silent, elegant sweep. It’s expensive. Understated.
Very… Dorian.
I didn’t even realize he had it on last night. I didn’t see him take it off.
My breath hitches. My pulse dips.
I straighten, clutching it too tight. The cold metal burns my palm.
No.
No.
