Chapter 12
Romeo
I know it’s my vacation and I can spend it however I want.
But at some point, I really should stop jerking off and think about leaving this room.
Damnit, though. This bed is so comfy and it still smells like Julian. Not in a gross way, ew. Like a good Daddy, he kept things nice and clean for me even when we were having fun. But his cologne is still lingering in the sheets, and I’ve been nesting in them like a wild little creature.
I was pretty proud of myself for playing it cool when he finally had to go. We kissed goodbye and said we’d see each other soon like we meant it, then with one last smile, he closed the door behind him, leaving me on my own.
The pouting and self-pity only lasted about twenty minutes before I remembered how lucky I was to meet him and have this rendezvous at all. That’s when I actively decided to choose happiness and took matters into my own hand.
Literally. Lol.
Since then, I’ve stayed in the glorious bubble Julian and I created, clinging as long as I could to that fantasy we made.
Other than checking that Beatrice and Isaac made it to the airport on time, I’ve completely ignored my phone.
Thanks to the fridge in the room, I was able to keep quite a lot of the breakfast food for lunch yesterday, and for dinner I ordered delivery from a local Japanese place that normally seems too fancy for me.
But I was in a celebratory mood and really didn’t feel like going out into the real world again just yet.
Deep down, I know Julian and I made the right choice to press pause so he could try getting back into the rhythm of his regular life again. He has my number now, and he promised to call when he felt ready.
I didn’t take his number, because I think we both knew if I did that I’d have been texting him about thirty seconds after he walked out the door.
If I really need to get hold of him, I can ask Bee for his digits. So I’m impressed with myself that I practiced self-restraint. But also…that I trust him to do the right thing. That he’ll get in touch when he’s confident he’s in a better place to maybe make a relationship work.
Hell, I’m impressed that I would even consider wanting a relationship.
That’s how special he is. I think I really do trust him not to stomp all over my heart.
Like, even if he decides he doesn’t want to be together or even try dating, I’m sure he’ll let me down gently.
And more importantly, I think I might actually be strong enough to get over it.
Ya girl here has done some serious personal growth, I do declare.
But I still have this gorgeous suite for another day, and I feel I should make the most of it before going home tomorrow morning.
Because I could lay around in bed ordering takeout from my own apartment.
To be fair, my place doesn’t have anything like the views that this does.
I think I’ve become obsessed with the scent of the forest and all the relaxing sounds that drift through the balcony door when I leave it open.
In my fantasy, I’m a woodland nymph, basking in the afterglow left by her human lover.
But when reality creeps in, I remember how much money I spent on this place and know I’ll regret it if I don’t squeeze as much out of the experience that I can.
So today I want to go for a swim in the pool, have a massage, and maybe get a facial.
It’s taken a whole day, but my body seems to have realized that the wedding is finally over, and I can feel all the stress I’ve been holding back will unleash itself out of my pores in a total breakout if I’m not careful.
“Just one more minute,” I purr to myself as I stretch out in the huge, super comfy bed, inhaling deeply. As if I can absorb every last trace of Julian if I try hard enough.
Then I’ll shower. And if I happen to think about a certain fire captain and touch myself while I do…at least I’ll still be getting clean and that’s the most important step to finally leaving this room.
Except apparently the universe has other plans. Or maybe it’s just trying to hurry me the fuck up.
Because at that moment, my phone chimes from the depths of my bag where I shoved it.
It’s not a normal message notification, either, which would make sense as I put the thing on silent.
No, it’s a shrill note that makes me wince despite all the clothes I have buried on top of it.
Then the whole place begins to shake. And not in the fun way Julian and I indulged in.
It’s a ‘run for cover’ sort of shake.
When I finally realize an earthquake in happening, I gasp and fling myself out of bed, folding under the dressing table just as the tremors get serious. But then they stop, and I let out the breath I’d been holding.
Having lived in SoCal my whole life, I can safely say that was only a baby one.
Nothing to get your panties in a twist over.
But at least it got my lazy ass up and at ’em.
So I crawl as gracefully as I can out from under the table—probably looking like some sort of drunk giraffe—and take that as my cue to go wash up.
It isn’t until I have some clothes on and am brushing my teeth that I think to check my phone. Sure enough, there’s an alert I didn’t see about the quake.
But there’s also several messages from a few of my neighbors.
Uh-oh.
Scanning through, they were all just sent after the quake. It seems something’s happened at our apartment building, and they were checking to make sure I made it out.
Hastily, I write back to say I’m not there and ask what’s actually happened, but none of them seem to know any real details.
My skin prickles. I don’t like this.
Biting my lip, I glance around the little slice of heaven I’ve been calling home the past couple of days. I was so looking forward to some proper RnR. But how can I relax if I’m stressing about what the hell is going on back at my actual home?
Reluctantly, I know what I have to do, even if I scowl the whole time I’m packing up my shit.
I hate the feeling I’m wasting money by bailing early, but a thought niggles the back of my mind that losing a night at a hotel might be the least of my troubles right now.
As if putting on armor, I select some black leather pants and heeled boots as well as a see-through leopard print blouse as my traveling outfit.
I also waste five minutes applying a basic face, because everything’s better with lip gloss and a little contouring.
“It’s probably fine,” I tell myself cheerfully as I sashay down the hall toward the elevator.
“Everything’s going to be okay.” An elderly white couple gives me a strange look as they pass me, but I just smile and wiggle my fingers at them.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” I repeat a little more forcefully as I jab the call button to ride down.
In a rash fit of optimism, I decide not to check out. If I drive home and it’s all a fuss over nothing, I’ll turn right back around and go get that massage. I’ll be back in mine and Julian’s bed by midday.
If it’s a fuss over something after all…well, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
Nowhere in this town takes much more than twenty minutes to drive to.
Thirty if there’s traffic. But seeing as the wedding venue is basically in the forest, I guess that adds some extra time.
Because it feels like it takes forever to drive the mostly familiar roads and get my butt back to my place.
I’m distracted along the way, which doesn’t help.
I keep slowing down whenever I see what could be damage from the quake.
It was barely anything at all, I don’t understand.
But one of the back roads is closed off entirely with what looks like a big hole in the asphalt, so I have to take a different route.
Most areas of town look fine, but again then I pass a couple of streets where it looks like most houses have had their windows blown out.
Nerves flutter in my belly. It’s natural that in any earthquake that some areas will suffer more than others.
Hell, that Japanese restaurant I ordered from got the shit kicked out of it last year and had to close for ages.
It’s one of the reasons I like eating from there when I can, to try and help them get back on their feet.
But as I make my way through Redwood Bay, it’s becoming clear that there are pockets of quite extreme wreckage, whereas most other areas seem unaffected.
I see the commotion as soon as I get around the corner from my place.
“Fuck,” I whisper as cold dread washes through me, and I cling harder to my steering wheel.
Dozens of people are standing on the road as well as the sidewalk, so I don’t even try to get to the building’s parking lot and just secure my car halfway down the street.
I leave my bag in the trunk for now and brace myself before marching down the middle of the road, looking for a familiar face to hopefully get an explanation of how fucked we might be.
Then I finally see my building, and all the air whooshes out of my lungs.
The place is five stories, which isn’t much in a city, I know. But in this little town, that makes it quite tall. So it’s even more horrifying that toward the right-hand side, there’s a giant crack running from the ground to the roof. It’s like someone tried to snap a third of the building off.
My first thought is that my place is on the left-hand side, and I’m thankful for small mercies.
But a split second later, I’m already fretting about the people in the affected apartments.
It’s not just the structural damage that’s a concern.
The fire department is also tackling a couple of blazes, although they seem to have it under control.
Christ, I pray that everyone made it out okay. The vibe of the crowd I’m walking through doesn’t make me feel like they’ve witnessed mass casualties, and I cross my fingers and toes that’s the case.