28. Cassie
CASSIE
I spend the next few minutes throwing my clothes back in my bag in between trying to cool my flushed cheeks with the backs of my fingers.
I yank my pajamas over my head and peel my damp underwear down my thighs, before throwing on my jeans, hopping when I get my foot caught in the leg.
I right myself before I faceplant on the floor and glance at the door.
How long has Robbie been gone? Is he coming back?
I was half-asleep when he rolled on top of me, half-convinced it was a dream. As soon as he pulled away, I saw the awareness spark in his eyes, closely followed by what got me jumping out of bed. Regret.
Humiliation burns my skin.
How many times am I going to lay myself bare for this man? How many times am I going to open myself up to his rejection and get hurt when it happens again?
I’m Cassandra fucking Hamilton. I do not get rejected. I do the rejecting.
The good thing about running away is there isn’t much to pack up. I roll my underwear in my pajamas and shove them in the bottom of my bag.
I turn my phone back on and throw it on the bed as soon as I’ve inputted my password. The mattress muffles the sound of the notifications flooding in, but I focus on sweeping up the minimal objects I’ve left sprawled across the room.
I pull the sheets back on the rumpled bed, tucking the duvet underneath the pillows before changing my mind and stripping it completely.
My phone rolls as I yank the sheets away from the mattress, and I hear it clatter to the floor but I still don’t pick it up, fully focused on removing the affronting fabric before I can think of how they probably still smell like Robbie.
I roll them in a ball and leave them by the door and do a final sweep. The drawers I helped Sammy look through remain firmly closed, and the fan balancing on the chair is neatly tucked away on the dresser.
Ready to rip the bandage off, I snatch my phone off the floor and assess the carnage.
Out of self preservation, I ignore the multitude of texts and calls from my parents, but I can already see a few words jumping out: ‘irresponsible’, ‘unbelievable’, ‘cancelled meetings’.
I bypass the messages from my friends and my managers, instead pulling up my assistant Lane’s contact and pressing call.
“Cassie?” Lane answers after the second ring. “Are you okay? Where are you?”
“Hey Lane,” I say, glancing around the room. “I’m uh—I’m good.”
“Where the hell have you been? Pip warned me, so I’ve been covering with your parents, but there are a lot of angry people looking for you.”
I let my eyes fall closed. “I know.” I swallow thickly. “I’m in Wales.”
There’s a pause before Lane replies. “You’re still in England?”
I can’t help a small laugh. “Nearly.”
“Pip made it seem like you’d gone on a one-woman retreat to the Alps to reconnect with nature.”
I laugh. Fucking Pip.
“No, just a small town in Wales. Listen, can you call me a car?”
“A car in Wales? Do they even have chauffeurs there?”
“I don’t know, Lane. It’s not the middle of nowhere. It’s really…nice.” Nice is such a nothing word to describe how the last few days here have been. It felt more like home than any of the houses I currently call mine.
“Okay, give me a few minutes, and I’ll see what I can do. It might be a while though. Can you send me the address?”
“Yeah, I will.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Just out of here.”
“I’ll book you a flight.”
The thought of getting on a plane and flying back home with my tail between my legs and my pride in tatters is not very appealing.
“No, not yet. I’ll figure it out when I’m on the road.”
“What do you want me to say to your parents?”
I grimace. “Nothing, I’ll call them when I’m ready.”
“Okay, give me a couple minutes, and I’ll text you.”
“Thanks, Lane.”
I hang up with a sigh and rest the heels of my palms on my eyes. My body is still buzzing with adrenaline, humiliation, and a hint of stubborn arousal that will not go away. I get a notification almost immediately.
LANE
Car’s on its way.
I take a steeling breath and swipe my bag off the floor. I shoulder the door open and cross the hallway. The shower is still running from the bathroom, and I know Robbie is in there, washing any trace of me away.
I grit my teeth as I pass, taking the stairs two at a time. Hopefully he’ll stay in there for the next five to ten minutes and let me leave the house without seeing his face again.
As I round the bottom of the stairs, I still at the crowd gathered in the kitchen.
“Hi, flower,” Sian calls without looking up from the kettle. “Come and have a cup of tea.”
Gwen and Iwan are sat at the counter, mugs placed on the mats in front of them. Gwen spots my bags before her husband does. “Are you off?”
“Uh, yeah.” I squeeze the strap of my bag between my hands awkwardly as everyone turns to look at me in confusion.
“Robbie driving you?” Iwan asks.
“Oh, no. My assistant is sending someone.”
“Where are you going?” Sian asks, her face a picture of motherly concern and disappointment.
Away from your son.
“I want to go to that studio. I’m going to see if they have space for me.
” I didn’t know that was my plan until I said it.
I don’t want to go home, I don’t want to get back on a plane and open myself up to the criticism I know is waiting for me.
I want to get my hands on a piano and hopefully get this concoction of emotions swirling under my skin out.
“The one in Monmouth?”
I nod. “That’s the one.”
“I can make a call to Ian if you like?” Iwan asks, already pulling his phone out of his pocket.
“That would be…” I swallow. “That would be amazing.”
Iwan passes me in the doorway, lightly touching my shoulder as he goes.
“Are you alright Cassie?” Gwen asks, tilting her head.
“Yeah, yeah.” I send them what I hope is a reassuring smile. “I’ve had the nicest time here, but I can’t impose any longer.”
“You’re not imposing, flower.” Sian gasps. “I wouldn’t like you to think that.”
My smile doesn’t reach my eyes. “Thank you for everything. If you guys ever want a ticket or anything, here’s my assistant Lane’s number. She’ll be able to sort you out.” I slide the business card across the kitchen island and ignore my trembling fingers. Why is it so hard to go?
I hear the pipes turn off and know it’s only a matter of time before Robbie comes downstairs.
“The kids have just gone to the shop with Arthur if you want to wait until they’re back?” Gwen asks.
“No, I…It’s easier if I just go.” My voice is thick in my throat. “My car’s outside.”
“Ian said they’re opening up the studio for you, Cassie,” Iwan announces as he comes back into the kitchen.
“That’s great, thank you.”
The door opens upstairs.
I wave my phone as if it’s been buzzing. “That’s my ride.”
“I’ll follow you out,” Sian says.
I say goodbye to Gwen and Iwan and turn for the front door. Sian follows.
A car is idling on the doorstep, and the driver jumps out at the sight of me, crossing to the back to hold the door open for me.
“Cassie,” Sian says, gently cupping my arm. “Are you sure about rushing off? You could stay and have breakfast.”
I swallow thickly. “I’m sure. Thank you, Sian. For everything.” I quickly gather her in my arms, her t-shirt soft underneath my fingers as I squeeze her. I let her go without a goodbye and rush to the car.
“Can we go quickly, please?” I ask him quietly.
“Sure thing, miss.”
He closes me in and wastes no time crossing back to the driver's seat. We’re pulling away from the curb before I can blink, and I wave my hand goodbye with a fake smile that I don’t feel. Sian waves from the doorstep until the car rounds a leafy bend, and she disappears from view.
And I finally let the tears fall.