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But I couldn’t wait that long. And I couldn’t risk that he wouldn’t show.
He was the Dom. He’d chosen to up and leave my bed in the middle of the night. To leave me with a note. He could’ve stayed. Woken up with me.
But he didn’t.
Why?
Terrified that I’d just be ignored because he’d already made his choice and that was it, I sent him a text anyway. And I didn’t play sweet submissive. I just told him what I wanted him to do, praying that he’d just fucking do it.
Me:I’m at the bar, come find me.
I went straight to Black Bear Grille, which was in the hotel next door, and sat at the bar. I ordered a glass of wine, drank half of it, and freaked out.
After the wedding reception, when I tried to get his room number from the front desk the first time, I’d given them the note I wrote to him the other day, right here. I asked them to deliver it to his room; to leave it for him in an envelope with his name written on it. So that no matter what happened for the rest of the night or tomorrow, I couldn’t chicken out. I couldn’t back out of giving it to him.
That was stupid.
It was probably delivered to his room while he was screwing me in mine. And what if he didn’t even notice it when he went back to his room? Or what if he didn’t open it? What if he figured it was some standard thank you note from the bride and groom and just tossed it in his suitcase, only to open it days from now when I was long gone?
What if he opens it and he doesn’t even know what it means?
It was weird, as far as notes went.
What if he got the noteandmy text and he still didn’t come?
What if the note he left on the pillow was his last word on the subject?
Goodbye, little dove.
Stay in touch so I know you’re alive. But, goodbye.
“From the gentleman at the back.”
I looked up with a start as one of the bartenders placed a drink in front of me. A tall, curvy, pink drink. And my heart stopped.
It looked exactly like the one I drank right here, four years ago. While a beautiful, mysterious stranger flirted with me. I looked at the bartender and he tipped his chin at something over my left shoulder.
I turned to scan the lounge for the dozenth time since I’d sat down… and there he was at the back of the bar. Standing just inside the entrance off the hotel lobby and staring at me like I was some vision from his most beautiful dreams.
He looked so much like that man I met right here four years ago, and so much like a man I could no longer live without, all at once, it made my heart ache.
He was holding his phone in his hand like he’d rushed straight here. He’d gotten my text.
He walked over to me, winding his way through the tables toward the bar, and stood in front of me. “I don’t want to ruin your life,” was the first thing he said to me.
I kind of sob-laughed. “I don’t want to ruin my life, either.” I swiped the tears from my eyes. “And if I walk away from you… I think that’s what I’d be doing.”
Shane’s shoulders softened. “I just went to your room, and you didn’t answer the door. And I had a fucking heart attack. I thought I was too late.”
“You’re not.”
His face softened, too. But he didn’t touch me.
He sat down carefully on the bar stool next to mine. He was holding the note I wrote him and I sighed with relief.
“You found my note.”
“I did. I’m not sure I know what it means.” He took it out of the envelope and read it aloud. “‘You are my unicorn.’” He looked at me. “I’m assuming that’s meant to be a good thing.”
