Chapter 7 The Day Before We Met
SEVEN
The Day Before We Met
The pain in my head was intense. So much that I vowed never to drink alcohol again. With my eyes closed tight, I drew in a few deep breaths and then went still when I caught a familiar scent. Sandalwood and vetiver, faint but unmistakable.
Bruno.
My eyes flew open, and my heart raced. I turned to the side and found him peacefully asleep next to me. Panic rushed through me, and I shot upright and pushed his shoulder firmly.
"Get up."
Startled, Bruno blinked and rubbed his head. "Why did you do that?"
That's what he was worried about? The last thing I recalled was him paying the bill and me chatting up the bartender. The rest was really a blur.
"Tell me we didn't sleep…" he muttered, eyes darting to the sheets.
I looked at him in disbelief; I was naked, and so was he. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together.
"All I remember is coming back to the table to try speaking with you again. We might have had a few more drinks."
"Get out."
Bruno's eyes widened as he lifted his palms. "Wait—"
"Out," I repeated, dragging the sheet tighter around me as I rushed from the bed.
I shoved him toward the door with one hand, clutching the sheet with the other. My cheeks burned hotter than the sun pushing through the curtains.
"Alex, let's just talk about this like adults."
"Just go," I hissed, heart pounding with a mix of panic and shame I couldn't begin to untangle.
He scrambled for his pants and shoes as I shoved a half-naked Bruno out of the room, slammed the door, and tried to steady myself.
I had been in all kinds of situations, but this one was new, even for me.
Sleeping with a man and not remembering it.
And of all the men in California, I had to go and fall into bed with brUNO?
I feel sick to my stomach.
Bruno, the same man I'd promised never to touch again. I once swore if he needed a drop of spit from me, I'd let him die. Now I had slept with him.
Before my head exploded with thoughts, I hurried to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, splashed water on my face, and decided to go for a jog. I had to get out. Just looking at the messy sheets that smelled of sweat and Bruno's cologne made me uneasy.
Minutes later, I was outside, running hard despite the hangover, hoping the pounding of my feet and the Los Angeles sun would burn away the disappointment and confusion.
Two miles in, my mind was still stuck on last night.
My lungs burned, sweat drenched my back, and sneakers struck the pavement like they wanted punishment.
If I ran hard enough, maybe I could erase it.
After a while, I made a U-turn and dragged my tired legs back to the hotel.
The sun seemed to mock me, shining straight into my eyes. I raised a hand to block it just as my phone rang. I wasn't in the mood to talk but checked because, after all, I had a company that would launch any day now. When I saw Demetria's name, I shook my head. She'd have a field day with this one.
"Hey."
"I saw you on a few news shows out here. You looked fabulous," she said.
Rather than wait until I saw her again and stumble through this awful confession in person, I decided to just get it over with. I could use the scolding I deserved. "I slept with Bruno."
Silence.
"Did you hear me?"
The sun beat down, heating the concrete while I walked with the phone against my ear.
Cars whipped past in blurs of chrome and noise.
Finally, Demetria spoke. "So, what does this mean? Are you two back together?"
"Hell no!" I yelled, too loud.
"So, what? You broke up with Bruno to be friends with benefits? I don't get it."
I spent the next mile explaining how I kicked him from my room, parts of last night that I remembered, the number of drinks, and even the car ride when Bruno told me goodbye, and I felt uneasy.
"Whoa. Alex, please talk to him. You guys need to have an adult conversation," Demetria said, then paused for a second. "If you ask me, you two have unresolved feelings. Sounds like you were miserable at the thought he'd disappear and got drunk to mourn the pending loss."
Leave it to Demetria to act like my therapist. "I've had casual sex plenty of times." I shrugged.
"Nothing between you and Bruno is casual. Plus, why do you sound so distraught if it's no big deal?"
I let out a groan. She knew me too well, and I hated it.
By the end, we'd shifted to safer topics. I wasn't calm exactly, but I at least could breathe normally again.
Thanks to the talk, my walk back went quickly. As I left the elevator, all I wanted was a hot shower and to get into bed. Housekeeping should've changed the sheets by now. Yes, the man was gone, and soon after my shower, all traces of Bruno would disappear.
That was my thought until I approached my room. What I saw made me rush to hide behind the ice machine. I watched a fully clothed Bruno knock on my hotel door, loud and sharp. Frightened he'd see me, I held my breath as he glanced around, and pressed back against the wall, willing myself invisible.
"Alex, I know you're in there," he said after the next three knocks. When that got no reply, Bruno hit the door harder.
"Alex. Stop this childish crap. We have to talk—"
He paused when two doors near my room opened. Each occupant stared at him.
Bruno wisely backed away from my door, and when he started walking toward me, I slipped away from the machine and hid in the staircase. Coward, I told myself.
A whole minute passed before I figured the coast was clear and I could get inside my room.
The elevator had already sounded, so I assumed Bruno was gone by now.
Still, I sprinted down the hall, heart thudding, and fumbled with the key before shoving the door open and slipping inside, breathless.
My heart was racing so hard it echoed in my ears.
I poured myself a glass of water to calm down.
Then something hit me. Bruno's scent was still in my room.
Confused, I looked around at the freshly made bed.
Then the carpet line that told me it was vacuumed.
The room was turned over, but still he was going nowhere.
He was like a damn STD I couldn't fucking be rid of. Yes, initially there was enjoyment, but the aftereffects left me regretting my actions.
In that moment, I made the decision to leave.
All the scheduled PR stuff was done the day prior.
Today was all about influencers, and my staff could handle it.
After booking myself a ticket on the next flight, I took a quick shower.
With my hair still damp, I dressed in record time.
Then grabbed all the clothes I brought and shoved them into my carry-on bag with shaking hands. "I'm fucking out of here."
I slipped out of the hotel in a baseball cap and oversized sunglasses, looking like a budget celebrity dodging paparazzi, pretending that leaving Los Angeles would somehow erase my mistakes.
Demetria called it running when I told her of my actions once I was safely in the airport terminal.
"I'm not running. I just don't need to spend any more time with him."
"You can't dodge Bruno forever, Alex."
As I waited in the TSA line, I rolled my eyes. "Call it whatever you fucking want. I don't need this complicated crap in my life right now."
She backed off, so I ended the call, but Demetria's words stayed with me the entire flight back to the East Coast.
When I landed and spotted a call from my father, I closed my eyes and braced myself. Typically, all calls came from my madre, so the fact he was calling meant it was important.
"Yes, Padre."
"Oh, I hear you have been ignoring your mother's calls. Wanted to see if you had balls that I wasn't aware of, and would dare to not pick up if I phoned."
So, he'd called to argue. Figures.
"I just got off a flight from California—"
"Why do I care?"
Silence.
"Your mother and I are coming to America. It's about time I see the reason you wasted that expensive business degree I paid for, and what nonsense phone app your mother is talking about."
Silence.
"Alexandra. I'm speaking to you," he said in a tone I remembered from my childhood. No warmth, only authority.
"I didn't know you were finished speaking. Thought there were more insults coming, and I know how you hate being interrupted."
I braced myself for him to start yelling, but when seconds passed and he didn't, I lowered my phone briefly to see the screen. He was still there.
"Next Tuesday we will arrive in New York. Your mother wants to stay with you to see how you're living. Any questions?"
Hell yes. The app celebration party was Tuesday.
I did not need this. And who knew how long this unbearable visit would last. Why was it really happening?
My father didn't normally waste any time on me.
I was a daughter, another man's future namesake; he only cared for his boys, my loser brothers. So, I didn't bother saying much.
"No."
"Good."
Even after seconds passed, his words still stung.
Me. I'm the child he wanted to check up on.
Me? At least I finished school. Just the thought of my family annoyed me.
If it wasn't for the trust fund I got after graduating college, and whatever I'd inherit when he finally died, I would've gone no contact long ago.
In every way I'd surpassed my brothers, time and time again.
Santiago was in jail for murder. That bully killed his girlfriend, taking the if I can't have you nobody will statement too far.
Danny was divorced and selfishly avoided paying child support for the children he'd refused to see in years.
The fact Padre needed convincing to be proud of me, after their complete failures, was infuriating.
OK, only Edwardo was of any use to Padre, as he'd taken over the family shipping company, and he ran it so well Ortega Shipping had outgrown anything our father dreamed of.
I was lost in my thoughts when the sudden ring of my phone startled me, snapping me back to the present as the taxi weaved through traffic.
It was Bruno. No sense avoiding him. We'd have to have a conversation sooner than later, so I accepted the call.
"Where are you? I heard you checked out." He barely let me put the phone to my ear before asking.
"Home. My team can handle the rest of the PR."
I heard him sigh. "We need to talk."
"Go ahead. Isn't that what we're doing right now?"
"Not like this. I want to speak face to face about serious matters."
I knew what he'd ask, and the answer was no. Sleeping together didn't change anything. "It was a drunken mistake."
"Alex!"
Ignoring his interruption, I continued, "You said it best a year ago. Let's do what you asked then, forget it ever happened."
"Letting Monique touch me was a mistake. We weren't a mistake. I love you."
I hung up before he could say anything else, before his voice cracked my resolve.
Love lingered in the air like smoke, stinging more than it should.
Outside the taxi window, New York blurred past, the city too busy to care about my wavering feelings. I pressed my phone face-down on my thigh, my fingers trembling just enough to make me clench them. This was a mess, a big one.