I had no choice.
A few minutes later, I drove off and didn’t stop until I reached the Cosmopolitan. I found a parking spot and pulled in, leaving the engine running to keep the cool air flowing. With my eyes closed, and my hands clasping and unclasping in my lap, I rehearsed what I was going to say to him.
That I’d given it some thought, and we were not good for each other. That I was so sorry to break his heart, but I had to go. That I hoped he remembered me, us, the good times we’d shared, and that he could one day forgive me.
I wasn’t going to hurt him on purpose, like Claire had paid me to do. Winston didn’t deserve that, or any of it.
He was different from the others. Special. When he looked at me, I didn’t feel like I was being devoured, or used. I felt ... seen.
In a world of cheating, lusting, philandering creeps who I had no issue ransoming for a living, I’d had to stumble across a decent man. And fall so hopelessly in love with him, discovering a love I’d never thought I’d find.
“Oh God!” I cried, gripping the steering wheel as if I were about to fall. “Damn it ...”
My shouting collapsed into bitter sobs. I choked, gasping for air in short, ragged bursts, my chest tightening like a vise.
Fingers trembling, I pressed my hands against the leather, desperate for something solid, something to anchor me. But nothing could. Winston’s voice still echoed in my head, the way hesawme, the pain he must have read in my eyes.
A sharp, broken inhale. Another. My vision blurred. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t cut the engine, couldn’t walk through the lobby heading to suite 5003, not when I knew what would happen once I got there.
But I had to.
Looking at the ring, I tried to pull it off my finger; I wanted Winston to have it back, so he’d know it was really over.
It wouldn’t budge. It was stuck, my fingers swollen from the heat. Or perhaps fate was playing tricks on me again. I loved the ring, what it symbolized and the man who’d given it to me. Fresh tears flooded my eyes, the image of the ring blurrier and dimming as I closed my eyes.
The loud ringing of my phone startled me. Winston again. His name on the screen tore through me, a visceral reminder of the life I had to walk away from. My finger hovered above the slider. I was tempted to take his call, but I just let it ring out until it went to voicemail. Then, I shifted into gear and drove off, one hand covering my gaping mouth.
I needed to go home. To lock myself in there, cover all the windows, and let darkness soothe my grief.
And then, tomorrow—because tonight I couldn’t bear it—I’d break his heart.
Tomorrow, not today. Claire’s deadline be damned.
26
Framed
I didn’t sleep a wink that night, curled up in a ball on the couch and barely moving, not even bothering to change out of my breezy white summer dress. I’d dropped everything by the couch—my purse with the signed NDA and the thumb drive, my shoes, the house and car keys, my high-heeled sandals. I’d sunk into a daze, dissociating from the reality I couldn’t handle.
And waited.
For a while, I senselessly kept waiting for the phone to come back to life with a ring or a text chime, but it remained eerily silent. Winston had stopped trying to reach me.
I thought he’d show up at the door, demanding answers. I flinched with every car that drove down the street, with every slammed door and squealing brake, not sure what I would do if he showed up. But he didn’t come. In only a couple of hours, he’d given up on me. On us. I couldn’t understand it.
It was about four in the morning when I finally rose, faltering shakily into the kitchen for a drink of water. I considered going back to bed for about a thousand years, but decided the only good thing for me to do was to leave Vegas, right after speaking with Winston. Not later today, as I had planned ... Now. I had no destination in mind, and noidea where to go; I only knew I couldn’t stay there anymore. How was I going to walk past the fountains again or see the sun shining in the clear blue sky, and not remember what we’d had?
I started the coffee maker and brewed an extra-strong pot, then filled a mug to the brim. For a while, I stared at the black steaming fluid, mindlessly looking at the few bubbles that congregated near the edges and slowly disappeared, bursting one by one. Then I took a sip, and another, welcoming the burn in my throat, the refreshing smell, and the surge of life instilled into my body.
My mind was made up. I was leaving Vegas, with the first flight out, wherever that would happen to go. Anywhere except Seattle.
Before I could leave town, though, I had a few things I needed to do. Collecting my purse and keys from the floor, I put them on the countertop by the coffee mug. The keys reminded me I’d left the Beemer in the driveway yesterday because the garage door wouldn’t open. I’d been planning to speak to the Realtor about it. One less thing to worry about now; it didn’t matter anymore. Instead, I would drop the house keys off at her office on my way to the airport.
After taking the thumb drive from my purse, I connected it to my phone and moved the crypto ransom into my personal account, then erased the thumb drive with a format function that ensured the deleted information would stay deleted. I took photos of the signed NDA, Jack’s criminal record, and the photo I’d kept, and saved them on my secure cloud. Then I tore everything except the photo into small bits and flushed them down the drain.
I could never be careful enough.
After a couple more swigs of black coffee, I started packing my spinner. My laptop went in the front pocket, and then I packed my underwear, a few T-shirts, and the Prada jeans I’d only worn once. Sifting through the clothes hanging in the closet, I found myself picking out things that reminded me of Winston. The lacy backless Versace gown I’d worn at the gala. The tie-front denim shirt I’d had on whenhorseback riding. The cutout one-piece swimsuit I’d worn that day on the Colorado River.
