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“Oh, babe.” Ginger pulls me into her embrace, wrapping her arms around me as a deep, shuddering sigh wracks my body.
I cling to her, my eyes hot and dry. I don’t want to cry.
Not for Ryan, because he’s a heartless bastard.
And not for Cole.
Because that would mean he has the power to hurt me.
Ginger pulls back, then adjusts herself when she realizes her blouse is wrinkling.
I frown, finally realizing she’s all dressed up. Then remembering she was drinking coffee out of a keep cup. "Do you have somewhere you need to be?"
Her response is hesitant, the words almost stumbling out of her mouth. "I actually have a meeting with one of the execs from work. I was getting ready when you came home…”
“Goodness,” I gasp. “Go!”
“Are you sure?” she asks, her face scrunching in uncertainty.
“Of course,” I say. It’s my turn to shoo her toward the door. “You should’ve told me.”
Ginger picks up her purse from a side table, stopping in the hallway. “I dunno. Will you be fine by yourself?"
I pull up a smile, even if it feels like it might crack my face. “I’m fine,” I lie. I even open my arms as I stand there. “Look at me. I’m not crying. I’m not a mess. I refuse for a weekend to have me falling apart.”
“Call me if you need anything, okay?” Ginger says, opening the door and stepping through.
I nod, keeping my smile up until the door’s shut. But the moment it’s closed, the instant the soft click sounds, my knees give out.
I bury my face in my hands, great sobs wracking through me. I feel lonely in a way I haven’t before, hollow in ways I didn’t know were possible.
I can't quite discern what exactly I'm mourning, but an inkling tells me it has less to do with Ryan and more to do with Cole.
About the fact that a part of me wants him to come and find me so this isn’t the end.
A great, heaving sob is just climbing up my throat, the pain feeling like it’s only compounding, when there’s an abrupt knock at the door.
My heart skips a beat, and as I shoot to my feet, I catch myself wishing it’ll be Cole standing on the other side.
I hastily brush away the dampness on my cheeks, ruffling my hair in the process, as I rush toward the door, my anticipation tempered by a sense of caution. Opening the door, I brace myself for whoever awaits. As it swings open, my hopes are instantly crushed.
It's Ryan.
Anger surges through me, eclipsing the longing that was threatening to engulf me. I glare at him, my arms crossing defiantly over my chest. "What do you want?" I snap sharply. "You have ten seconds to state your business."
His reaction betrays his surprise, his words stumbling as he struggles to find the right response. But he coughs, composing himself while at it. “I’m here for the necklace,” he growls, squaring his shoulders as he straightens.
I clamp my mouth shut, not surprised by his words. In fact, not even hurt by them.
This guy has shown his true colors. Of course he’s here for his belongings.
“Aren't you going to let me in?” he asks, arching a brow.
Seems the arrogant ass is back.
I nod curtly, then spin on my heel and make my way to the bedroom. Passing through, I enter the bathroom, my steps quick, my patience wearing. I want him gone as soon as possible.
The soft glow of the bathroom lights illuminates the silver necklace lying on the white basin, its delicate chain catching the reflection. I pick it up, feeling its weight in my palm, realizing he’s gone to more effort for this piece of jewelry than he did me.
