Page 50 of John + Siena: The Complete Duet

SIX

Siena knew she was alone before she even opened her eyes. Maybe because each time she had woken up the night before, Johnathan had been holding her. Or even, pulling her closer, and into him.

Now, nothing held her.

And she was cold because of it.

She was so accustomed to waking up in an empty bed that the feeling should have been comforting. She didn’t mind being alone, usually. It was mostly okay.

On this morning … it wasn’t.

Not at all.

Sure enough, when she opened her eyes and glanced over, she found the space Johnathan had occupied was now nothing but mussed sheets and a forgotten pillow. A pillow with an indent where his head had rested while he slept. For a long while, she just stared at the space, and did nothing. She didn’t know what to do.

She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, sure, but a small piece of her knew better despite the hope in her heart.

Maybe he hadn’t run off again.

Without an explanation.

For a third damn time.

The sheets still felt warm when she reached over and ran her palm over them. As though maybe he had only gotten up recently, and his heat still remained on the cotton. Another whisper of hope to bury into her heart, but would likely be ripped away all too soon.

She was a realist.

She dealt in black and white.

Still, a part of her held on.

A part of her hoped.

Johnathan’s spicy scent still clung to the blankets … and her. The smell of sex still lingered in the room, too. The feeling of his kiss still lingered on her mouth, and down her body where he’d spent far too much time kissing every single inch of her. As though she was the most beautiful thing to have ever graced his presence, and he needed to show her just how much.

It had definitely happened.

They had happened.

Except where was he?

She sat up straight in the bed, and used the bedsheet to cover her from the chest down. Not that there was anyone around to see her nakedness. Not a sound echoed from outside her bedroom.

Like she needed another fucking reminder.

Something akin to sadness stabbed in her chest when she looked for the clothes Johnathan had shed the night before. Her bedroom floor now only held what remained of her club dress, and the lace panties he had taken off with his teeth. Nothing of his were anywhere to be seen.

Fuck.

The contented thrum echoing through her veins—the kind of satisfaction one could only get from great sex and a hard sleep—should have been enough for Siena. It should have kept the anger and sadness at bay about having to wake up alone.

Still, she felt those things.

Still, she wanted to give him a chance.

Maybe he was still here.

Maybe he was somewhere in the apartment.