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All I see is a way to forget for half a second.
"I'm here," she calls out. I stand up from the couch, brushing a hand through my hair, even though there really isn’t a way to hide the fact that I'd drank half a bottle of vodka and had been sleeping it off all day.
"And I brought your mail," she sings, waving a stack of envelopes as she walks into the room.
Addy was a redhead, cute and spunky, and a great assistant. Probably because she was in love with me.
Too bad for her, the feeling wasn't mutual.
Addy had been in love with me since I'd hired her, and I'd done my best to keep everything between us professional.
And then the injury happened and my whole life fell apart.
And she was there.
And I was probably going to hell.
Her smile drops when she gets a good look at me. I'm pretty sure the bathrobe I’m wearing is from college and has seen better days, and I definitely haven't shaved in a few days…make that weeks, actually.
"Productive day?" she asks sympathetically as she recovers from seeing the homeless look I’m rocking and strides towards me with the mail.
I go to reach for the stack, but she has other ideas. She puts her hand on my chest and stands up on her tiptoes to give me a kiss.
I can't quite hide my flinch, and my soul shrivels a little more at seeing the disappointment in her eyes at my reaction.
"Just the usual today, except you got a letter from someone named Valentina? She's probably a fan, and I should have opened it to screen for naked pictures or something, but I decided it wouldn't hurt you to see some good old-fashioned nude shots," she announces with a chuckle.
But I barely hear her.
Everything else has faded away as soon as I heard "Valentina."
I grab the envelope from her hand, my whole body shaking as soon as I see the perfect, scrawling script.
After all this time?
Why am I hearing from her?
What if she heard about my injury and this is some kind of condolence letter? I think that would kill whatever was left inside of me if that's what I get from her after all these years of silence.
"Quaid?" Addy asks, concerned.
My gaze reluctantly leaves the envelope. For some reason, I’m shocked to still see her standing there. It feels like years have passed in the moment I've spent with the letter in my hands.
"Are you alright?" she asks softly, reaching for me. I flinch when she touches my hand. How is that just seeing Valentina's writing makes the thought of any other woman’s touch disgusting? She shouldn't still have this power over me ten years after the last time I saw her face.
"I think I need to be alone," I tell her, trying to be gentle with my tone, but coming out curt instead. Her eyes instantly widen in hurt.
"I just thought you might want to hang out,” she tells me softly. She's trying to keep the hurt out of her eyes, but she's failing miserably. I told her from the beginning this wasn't going to go anywhere, and she said that she would rather have something with me than nothing at all.
Guess now she's going to experience what "not going anywhere" really means.
"Yeah, sorry. Something's come up," I tell her lamely. My skin is itching, like there's a fire burning right under my skin. If I don't open up that letter in the next minute, I might burst into flames.
Or at least, that's what it feels like.
"It's been a week. Have I done something?" she continues.
Fuck. This is why hooking up with your assistant is a bad idea, ladies and gentlemen.
