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Saylor
“WHAT AM Idoing?” I asked myself as I stood in front of the mirror.
The black, mid-length dress hugged my curves beautifully. The neckline plunged just enough to show the slight swell of my cleavage but left something to the imagination. What really turned heads was the way the back of the dress dipped almost to my ass. I’d bought the dress for a Christmas party I was supposed to attend, but had never gotten to wear it thanks to Ron.
My mind drifted back to the day of the party.
• • •
Standing at my door, I stared at Ron. “Why are you here? I told you we’re over. There’s nothing left between us, so you need to let it go. I’m late for the company Christmas party. Please leave.”
He forced himself into my apartment. “I won’t let it go because you’re meant to be with me, Saylor. I won’t let you go. Ever.”
Ron had never physically hurt me, but when he’d started to become increasingly obsessed with everything I did, wore, and said, I knew things needed to end.
“If you don’t leave my place now, I’ll call the police.”
He shot me a smirk. “Give me one more fuck, Saylor. You’ll remember why we’re so good together.”
“Get out. Now.”
He moved closer to me, and I quickly turned and tripped over the new rug. I knew I was going to hit the coffee table the moment I let out a scream.
The pain radiating through my head was like nothing I’d ever experienced. Ron was by my side in an instant, helping me up.
“Shit, Saylor, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Get out! You need to go and leave me alone, Ron!” I cried out as the door to my condo flew open and my neighbor, Justin, rushed in. I could feel my eye swelling up, and the moment Justin saw me, I knew he thought Ron had hit me.
The next thing I knew, Ron was being arrested for assault and I was trying to tell the police I’d honestly tripped and had hit the corner of the coffee table.
That night it had been all over the news and in the papers. And I knew my time in Seattle had come to an end.
• • •
Pushing aside memories of Ron and Seattle, I took one more look in the mirror and frowned. Why I’d gotten my hair done was beyond me. I wasn’t looking to meet anyone. That was the last thing on my mind. So why was the idea of spending the evening with Mason putting my stomach all in knots?
My phone buzzed, and I walked over to the kitchen island to retrieve it.
Mason: Your doorman is an asshole.
Smiling, I typed my response.
Me: Why?
Mason: He won’t let me in because I’m not on his list.
Shit. I’d forgotten to give them Mason’s name.
Me: Sorry. That’s my fault.
My hands started to shake as I called down and added Mason’s name onto the approved list of visitors.Jesus, what’s the matter with me? Why am I a nervous wreck?
Making my way over to the bar, I poured myself a quick shot of tequila to take the edge off as I waited for Mason to come up.
The doorbell rang, and I drew in a deep breath.
“He’s my boss and he’s only being nice. I was at a bar alone, and he felt sorry for me. That’s all this is.”
