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I almost jerked away from the phone in surprise. Check on me? Well, that was a new one. “I’m fine.” I sank down on the edge of the bed. “You?”
A speculative noise. “You don’t sound pissed at me,” he mused.
My brow furrowed. “Why would I be pissed at you?”
“For not offering you what you need.” The words were low and soft with … not quite regret, but something near to it.
There was a twinge in my chest. “I’m not upset with you, Danton. You didn’t do anything wrong. It isn’t your fault I came to want more than you can give. It isn’t my fault either. It just happened.”
Another pause. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, baby. I never wanted that.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, a little too affected by the term of endearment than I would have liked. He usually only used it during sex. “I know.”
“I didn’t think you’d ever want more from me.”
“Neither did I.” It plain sucked that I’d been wrong. Opening my eyes, I cleared my throat. “So, anyway, I have to go.” I really didn’t trust that my wine-muddled brain wouldn’t give me the bright idea to blurt out something stupid. Plus, hearing his voice … it was too hard, too much a reminder of what I’d lost. No, a reminder of what I’d never had.
“Cat?”
I swallowed. “Yeah?”
“You ever need anything, you call me. Okay? This line’s always open to you, no matter what.”
God, the rock in my gut was growing. “Right. Okay. Um. Bye.” I hung up fast, knowing I should wish I hadn’t answered the phone but unable to feel any such regret inside me.
I really needed to stay clear of the wine from now on.
***
The next morning, I received a text message from Briar to inform me that Danton hadn’t showed up at the Vault last night.
Unexpected.
Chapter Five
Aweek went by. And another. And another.
I’d gone on as normal. Worked. Met with my friends. Read books. Binged-watched TV series. Worked out at the gym.
Whereas I’d once lamented that Danton wasn’t even a tiny part of my everyday life, I now came to find it a blessing. Why? Because nothing around me or part of my schedule served as a reminder of him.
Not that my thoughts didn’t nonetheless still drift to him. It happened often, in fact. They were unruly that way.
Usually, work—which I was presently taking a brief coffee break from as I lounged on my office sofa—was a terrific distraction from anything that was playing on my mind. Not when it came to Danton, though. Probably because the books I edited were all romance novels. It was really only natural that they would make me think of my own love life—or lack thereof.
I’d find myself comparing my situation to that of these fictional couples. I’d find myself wishing that Danton had pushed past his uncertainties and defenses, much like the male characters had. More, I’d find myself snickering at my own stupid self for doing such weird, ridiculous shit.
I scowled into my cup of coffee and tucked my legs beneath me. Although I was no longer spending most of my freetime in my apartment like a hermit, I still hadn’t yet returned to the Vault. I simply never felt in the mood to go there. I associated the place too much with Danton, so venturing to it wasn’t exactly conducive to taking my mind off him.
I had no clue if he had been back there. The day after receiving the perfume he sent me, I’d given the girls strict instructions to tell me nothing of any activities they witnessed him engage in—even something as simple as stepping out of the club’s elevator into the basement.
They’d been visibly relieved that I’d changed my mind about wanting to be informed of when he bagged himself a new plaything. Who could blame them for not wanting to be the messenger of such news?
They’d known as well as I did that, in truth, Iwouldn’tfeel better for knowing. In reality, I’d only obsess over the matter—over who she was, over what restrictions they’d put on their arrangement, over if he said the sort of things to her that he had to me. There would be nothing healthy about that.
I hadn’t had any more contact with him since the evening I received his package. I really had no idea if he’d tried to call or text me again because I’d once more blocked his number. Purely due to the fact that each time my phone rang, I’d found himself wondering if it could be him wanting to ‘check’ on me again.
This way, I wouldn’t feel that tiny surge of pointless hope in my belly anymore whenever my phone chimed. I wouldn’t experience the plummeting sensation in my stomach when I saw that the caller or texter wasn’t him. I wouldn’t want to slap myself for getting so tangled up in a guy I couldn’t have.
