Chapter 22
twenty-two
. . .
Brynnlee
Steele:I’ll give you a few days. I’ll let you be pissed at me and think I’m a terrible person. But know one thing, it”s not what you think, not even close. I would never hurt you and I would never cheat. I’m not who you think I am.
I stare at my phone, the point of tears long gone. I lay in bed awake for hours, refusing to cry. I wouldn’t give him that. He didn’t deserve them.
Choosing to ignore his message, I climb out of bed and grab my things for a shower. Flipping on the water, I hold my hand beneath the cascade until it reaches the desired temperature. Quickly the steam begins to fill the air around me and I step back to gain some space. Removing my clothes I climb in and pull the curtain shut as I move beneath the water.
Closing my eyes I fight off the hurt once again and my mind fills with images of our night together. The way he touched me, every time he kissed me and whispered things in my ear. My heart feels like it”s being tugged to the right and left, I bounce between what I should feel and what I do feel.
Everything about Jensen was perfect or so I thought. I should have known it was too good to be true. It always is.
“Hey, sunshine.” Taylor looks up from her laptop when I walk into the kitchen close to an hour later. “I made coffee.”
“Thanks.” I grab a cup and pour it half full before I grab Bailey”s and butterscotch Schnapps and top it off. Giving it a little stir I bring it to my lips and take a big drink.
“So we’re morning drinking?” She nods. “I’m game you know I am, but should we talk this through maybe?”
“Nope,” I reject her offer and start back toward my room.
“Brynn,” she hollers after me and hurries to catch up. “Perry says that Jensen camped out downstairs for more than thirty minutes demanding to be let up.”
“So?” He could have spent the night on the front steps and it wouldn’t have made a difference. “Does that fact make him any less married?”
“Well no, but?—”
“But nothing, he lied.”
“Did he?”
“Oh so you’re on his side?”
“There are no sides here.” She sits down on the end of my bed. “There is only yours and you know that I am right here with you. Marco and I both, if you want us to jump him outside his place and make him pay, I’m your girl. I will shave his head and tattoo the word cheater on his forehead. All I’m saying is that you being all angry and shutting down isn’t going to benefit you any.”
“I”m not angry.” She arches her brow. “I should have known better. Nolan was fucking his secretary, Wes his ex-girlfriend, and now we have Jensen. He was getting me and his wife, so he made me the mistress in this scenario. Any way you look at it, it’s fucked up.”
Taylor chooses to not say a word.
“I thought Connor, Jensen’s friend, was a pig for his need to bounce from one bed to the next, but now I kind of get it. He keeps feelings out of it. Why tie yourself to one person, it only leads to getting somehow fucked over in the end. Keeping emotions out of the situation and choosing to keep things only physical seems like a good way to go.”
“So now you’re going to have random hookups with strangers instead?”
“Why not?” I shrug. “Get off and get out.”
She laughs. “You, my lovely friend who has an amazing heart that tends to get attached, do not have it in you.”
She’s right, but I choose not to agree aloud. For now in my mind, I am a detached, looking for a good time only, do not expect more girl. It helps, not really, but for now I can pretend.
I openmy mini fridge and grab the container of grapes and a bottle of water. Walking back to my desk I sit down and stare out the window to my left.
I’ve gone through phase after phase. The pretending not to care, the sadness, now I”m just angry. I’m pissed that Jensen kept me in the dark.
It’s a quarter past six and everyone has already gone home for the day. I could have gone hours ago, but instead I decided to dive into the paperwork for another hotel my father has bought and the renovations are set to begin next month. There are several contracts to review. Several proposals to break down and compare, and it”s not like I have a reason to put it off.
It’s actually a perfect distraction. It’s what I know, stay busy and put your emotions into your work.
“Your father said that you’ve locked yourself away all day in your office.” I hadn’t even heard my office door open, I was so lost in my thoughts. Looking up I find my mother standing in the doorway with a bag from the candy store just four doors down from our building. The one place that is my go-to whenever I need a sugary fix and the very place that is my enemy whenever I am going through a rough patch. The very location that I’ve been trying to avoid for the sake of my ass, because one bite is never enough and I could see myself engorging to the point of no return.
My mother steps into the room and places the yummy goodness on the edge of my desk. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Something tells me you already know.” My mom is the perfect example of the phrase a mother always knows. Sometimes I feel like she has superpowers, nothing gets by her.
“Maybe I know something.” She sits opposite me. “But I prefer to hear the full story from you.”
“There is not much to say. I met a guy, thought he was good. He wasn’t and I found this out when I was standing face to face with his wife.” I half expect her to snarl, but she holds my stare without showing even a minimal reaction. “A wife I had no clue he had.”
“So, he’s married?”
“Yes, Mother, your daughter is a homewrecker.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.” She reaches out to open the bag, and tips it sideways, dumping everything out. Individually wrapped caramels and chocolate scatter over the edge of my desk and immediately my eyes shift in their direction.
“Well, believe it,” I say to her but can’t seem to shift my eyes away from the temptation.
“Have you spoken with him?”
“No.” Without another wasted second I reach out and grab a caramel. Slowly I unwrap the yumminess. “I don’t have a reason to talk to him.” I hate that I miss his smile and the random text messages he’d send me throughout the day. I kept those details to myself.
Silence settles over the room and I place the caramel in my mouth, looking up to find my mother watching me.
“What? You think I should call him up?” I grab another caramel and immediately start to unwrap it. My mother knows the way to my heart or conscience, she knows them both well. “Should I say, ‘Hey Jensen, how are things, so how did you meet your wife? How long have you been married? What color were the flowers at your wedding?’” I know I am being snarky. But I also know that my mom won’t take any of it to heart. She is breaking through my barrier. The wall I’ve built around the hurt I feel. The one that gives off the idea that I am completely unaffected by what’s happened. I am unbreakable, truth, and my mother knows well, I am being held together by duct tape at this point.
“Maybe, you could just go with, why didn’t you tell me you were married?” I’ve noticed I’ve now tackled the caramels with not even an ounce of shame and she’s not touched one.
“Does it matter?” I shrug, trying to fight the slight ache in my chest. “I know now. Going back to the what-ifs and whys won’t change that.”
“No, but it may give you a better understanding of why he chose to withhold that information.” My mother leans forward pushing a few of the stray pieces of candy in my direction. “Maybe there is more to the story.”
I hold her stare, I know what she’s doing. It’s what she always does, finds the good in every situation. Even when it looks like there could be no possible good, she digs it out of the darkest situation. “I don’t care if there is. It doesn’t change the outcome. It all ends the same. Me, looking like I’m the whore that slept with a married man.”
“You’re angry and bitter.”
“Yep.” There is no reason to argue. Why would I? It’s true. “I am.”