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“Lyric—”
He took a step in my direction, but I moved back, holding up a hand to stop him. “Thanks for the orgasms, but you said it yourself, you have to go.”
The guilt that spread across his face did nothing to temper my anger... or soften the sharp edges of humiliation and hurt that were currently slicing into me. I refused to allow him to make me any more of a laughingstock than he already had, so I turned on my bare heel and started back toward my bedroom.
“You can let yourself out,” I called over my shoulder without looking back. I entered my bedroom, my eyes going straight to the rumpled sheets, and a whole new surge of rage washed over me.
Fuck that guy, I told myself, and yanked the bedding free.
I heard the front door open and close just as I exited the bedroom, my arms loaded down with high-thread-count Egyptian cotton that smelled like sex and Holton’s cologne. With a feral grunt, I shoved the bedding into the washing machine and dumped in three times the amount of detergent the load called for, but I’d be damned if I smelled Holton Clarke on my sheets for another second.
I left my attempt at breakfast on the counter and stove, telling myself I’d clean it up later, when it didn’t hurt so damn much to look at it, then I turned the shower on as hot as I could stand it, and scrubbed until all remnants of my second biggest mistake were gone.
Once all the soap had been rinsed away and all I could smell was amber and cinnamon, I allowed myself to cry, the salty tears mixing in with the shower spray so no one would ever know I’d cried over yetanotherman in my lifetime.
ChapterFour
LYRIC
“I just don’t get it.”Poppy Hyland, the owner of the Redbud Inn, looked around the group, the confusion on her face the same most everyone else in the circle was wearing. “I mean, this is a romance book club. I thought that guaranteed a happily ever after.”
There were nods and murmurs of agreement throughout the rest of our crew of steamy, sexy, emotional story lovers.
Months back, Deva and I had discovered we shared an affinity for romance novels. So, as a reason to get together on a regular basis, we’d decided to start a book club for romance lovers. Our rag-tag group had really taken off since that first meeting.
Not only did we all share a love of fiction—with a healthy dose of sex and a great storyline—but we’d all become good friends. It was really nice to feel like part of the community, especially since I was still technically the new girl on the scene.
At the beginning of the month, we’d draw a name out of a bowl, and that person would be in charge of picking that month’s book, then, at the end of the month, we’d meet up at the library after it closed for the night. I’d put out a couple long folding tables, and we’d do things up, potluck style. It never failed that at least two people would bring enough booze to down a Clydesdale. We’d spend hours eating, drinking, and discussing the book we’d all read before moving on to any other topic our hearts desired. Usually, our gatherings went into the late hours of the night, and half of us—if not more—were well past buzzed by the time someone called the meeting to a close.
This month’s book pick came from my friend, Wynn. The usually bubbly, outspoken, feisty woman had picked a book that understandably left the group a bit flummoxed. Not only because it didn’t offer the happy ending everyone was used to, but also because it was very out of character for our bright, happy friend.
At Poppy’s confusion, Wynn lifted her shoulder in a careless shrug. “I don’t know, I personally liked the ending.”
Silence spread across the crowd, bewildered looks following.
“But, sweetie,” Farah started, blinking slowly, “the hero died at the end.”
“I know.” She lifted the gin and tonic she’d mixed herself using the supplies she brought, and downed half in a few swallows. “Not all romances end happily. That’s just not reality.”
My other friend, Aurora, spoke up. “I get that, babe. But... heliterallygot run over by a bus. Splat and everything.”
“Yeah. That was my favorite part.”
I could appreciate her book choice this month, especially given I was still a little salty over how things had played out with Holton a few weeks ago, but even I had to agree that the bus thing was a bit much. I mean, I wasn’t exactly a friend of romance at the moment, but I’d had to reread the last few pages a couple times just to make sure I read it right.
Shane, a woman who worked with Farah at Bad Alibi, leaned forward and patted Wynn’s knee. “Honey, are you okay?”
Wynn sucked back the rest of her G&T and started making herself another one, using an extremely heavy hand with the gin. My friends and I all exchanged concerned looks. Wynn didn’t shy away from having a few drinks when we were all out and cutting loose, but it wasn’t like her to get soused in the middle of book club.
She brought the red plastic cup to her lips and began to chug.
“Whoa. Easy there, killer.” I leaned in fast, grabbing the cup from her and sloshing the liquid over the side in my attempt to save her. Ignoring the spill, I focused on my friend and passed the cup to Deva to throw away. “Alcohol poisoning isn’t the answer to whatever problems you’re having right now. Why don’t you tell us what’s wrong?”
“We want to help,” Deva assured her.
Wynn let out a deep, weighted sigh. “Oh, you know how it goes. Men suck and should be wiped from the universe.”
I nearly snapped my fingers in agreement and had to bite my tongue to keep from shouting,preach!
