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So we have one more drink, talking about other matters and laughing till it is nearly four in the morning. Cameron finally decides it is time for us to part, wanting to get back to his own wife waiting in their hotel room, but not before he gives me a final scrap of advice.
“Be careful, man,” he says in the hallway of the hotel. “Good girls are the ones who will get ya.”
I give him another eye roll and continue to my room. I slowly open it after clicking the scanner with my keycard, doing my best not to wake her.
When I close the door behind me, I see her lying there on the bed. There are no sheets over her, nothing to hide her from my view as she breathes softly on her back. I give myself a moment, watching as the moonlight frames her body and skin like a Greek goddess.
I shake my head back and forth. No. I can’t think about these things.
She is in the center of the bed, and this is going to make it harder for me to get into it. It is a big bed, but she has managed to spread herself evenly across it. It makes me chuckle a bit to myself.
So, I decide to take the couch, anyway. I don’t want to disturb her. She has been through so much with her father, her mother being ill, the accident, the cafe. Now, she marries a guy who she isn’t in love with, only because his father was forcing him to marry someone else.
It must weigh on her to take all of this on, despite the financial reward. Before I get to the couch, I pull the sheets over her body, letting my eyes settle on her face for just a moment.
She is angelic, and I cannot resist. I run a finger along her cheek, feeling the velvety skin.
I get to the couch and begin to doze immediately, thinking perhaps Cameron is right.
25
JOSEPHINE
Ifeel the warmth of the sun upon my body as my eyes flutter open. The crash of the ocean outside is soothing, and it takes me a few seconds to remember everything that had already happened. The feeling of bliss remains as I gaze over at the opposite side of the bed.
I am surprised to find it empty. I instinctively reach for the cold, empty spot, despite the reality of our courtship being false. I had longed to wake up with him next to me, dozing away in a world of his own making.
As I sit up, wondering where Aiden has gone or if he had slept in the bed at all, I hear the small whisper of breathing. I hold the sheet over my thin pajamas and bring it with me as I walk over to the couch facing away from the bed.
There he is, in all of his glory, having slept the entire night on a bed that is almost a foot too small for him. The sight of his beautiful face, calm and removed from the stark brutality of life, his body bare from the waist up, makes my heart nearly burst out of my chest.
“Aiden…”
The sound of his name slips out of my mouth without realizing it. I cover up my mouth as he stirs but doesn’t wake. He merely turns over on the couch and remains asleep.
I drop my hand from my mouth, his name still lingering on my tongue. I cannot believe that he chose to sleep here. It is hard to believe that he did it out of awkwardness, especially since we had previously discussed the arrangement.
Did he do it as a kind gesture? To not wake me from my slumber?
His chest rises and falls with the crash of the waves outside. It is hypnotic and rhythmic, and I catch myself watching him for a good few minutes before I snap out of it.
I have the desire to curl up next to him, to cover his entire body with kisses. My chest is aching for it, a yearning so deep that I begin to feel faint.
I instantly become irked with myself. I move away from the couch, tip toeing around the room. Retrieving my things, I close myself off in the bathroom.
I lean against the door and whisper to myself through gritted teeth. “Get your shit together, woman,” I say. “You are not with this man. You made a deal. Stop stumbling all over yourself like some cheap heroine.”
The words are mean, but I want them to stick. I undress and get into the shower, turning the faucet on full blast and hoping the warmth would somehow wash away these lovesick feelings.
Instead, it seems to have the opposite effect. It is calming, but it brings up the emotions in me like a dam ready to break open. Since I am alone in the bathroom, I let it out.
I begin to cry violently, reeling from all of the trauma of my mother’s illness, the straining financial woes and, of course, the craving for Aiden’s affection. I know why I let myself get into this. Out of love for my family, of course.
But why on earth did I think accompanying emotions weren’t going to pop up? Why did I think I would be okay pretending to be with someone who I had already been attracted to in the past?
I cry over the lack of logic, using my tears to navigate this explosion of grief. Finally, I cry as I accept what I have done. I cry until the water begins to run cold, until my skin begins to wrinkle, until I start to feel weak from the trembling.
I finally stop. Not because I force myself, but because I am finally empty of tears. I turn the water off, wrap myself in a towel and try to breathe through the exhaustion.
