Chapter Seven
Danielle
I waited until I was at the corner before I called a rideshare. Dozens of notifications of calls and texts from my brother rolled up the screen, but I couldn’t deal with them right now.
Ten minutes later, I was on my way to Dominic’s, separating myself from Michael one row of blurring townhouses at a time. The tears I’d been holding back broke loose and fell unheeded down my cheeks.
God, why does it hurt so much?
“Are you all right, luv?” the driver asked. “Can I help with anything?”
I shook my head. No one could. I’d made a mistake, one I would both regret and cherish for the rest of my life. Sure, I could go back and tell Michael the truth. He wouldn’t be mad. I didn’t mean enough to him for that kind of reaction. We’d gone into the weekend with no expectations. It was only supposed to be a quick fling. A fantasy.
To me, though, it had been so much more.
He’d always been more, but he was so much more than I’d imagined. Hot AF and great in bed, but he was also smart and funny. And charming and sweet and kind and thoughtful.
And you’re temporary, one of many.
Hiccupping around another sob, I clutched my bag tighter. It was over. Time to cut my losses and move on before I was in too deep.
Too late.
I’d fallen hard, and there was nothing I could do. Right now, all I wanted was to be alone, to curl up on Dominic’s sofa with Michael’s shirt and cry until it was time to catch my flight. Where I belonged. There’d be no dream job. It wouldn’t mean anything without the dream man.
The car stopped in front of Dominic’s house, and the driver handed me a tissue. “I hope it gets better, luv.”
I choked out a thanks as I climbed out. I wanted to be Michael’s luv .
As I tried to fit the key in the lock, the door swung open, and Dominic filled the frame. “Where the hell have— What’s wrong?”
I brushed past him, not up to his questions. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You’re fine? You don’t look fine.” He shut the door with a soft click that belied the concern rolling off him in waves and piled on the guilt. “And I’m sure as fuck not fine. I’ve been worried out of my fucking mind. Where have you been all weekend?”
I shrugged and shook my head, unable to speak around a fresh round of tears lodged in my throat. I turned away, knowing I looked a mess. There was no denying what I’d been doing.
“Daisy, talk to me.” Dominic caught up to me and turned me to face him. “And don’t lie. The fridge is still full, and”–he pointed to the stairs—“you haven’t slept in your bed. Then you come home distraught. What’s going on?”
“Calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down.”
My last thread of energy surging to life, I wrenched free of his grasp. “I’m a grown-ass woman. I’m not accountable to you. You’re not my fa—”
I clamped my mouth shut, and shame washed over me like yesterday’s dirty dish water. Dominic had been brother, mother, and father to me for most of our lives. He didn’t deserve my anger when it was really directed at myself.
Another flood of tears spilled onto my cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
“Come here.” With an arm around my shoulder, he led me to the couch and sat beside me. “I’m sorry, too. I’m lashing out at you when I’ve got my own shitstorm brewing.”
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
He shook his head. “You first.”
I looked down at my lap. He’d always been the one I turned to, but now I wasn’t sure I should. “I…met someone.”
“Here? In London?”
I nodded.
“You hooked up with a stranger?” He sat back, concern marring the sharp angles of his face. “I can’t believe you’d do that. I mean, you know I’m not judging, but… What if he’d been a serial killer, Daize?”
He might as well have been. I feel like I’m dying.
I turned to stare out the window without actually seeing beyond the memory of Michael’s gorgeous smile and smoky-gray eyes. “He was perfectly normal. And sweet and thoughtful, and the sex was amaz—”
Dominic slapped his hands over his ears. “Lalalalalalalalala, I do not want to hear about you having sex.”
I attempted a faint smile, wiped my face, and blew my nose into the soggy tissue the driver had given me.
“Then why are you crying?” He folded his arms across his chest. “What did the bastard do?”
“He didn’t do anything. I did. I screwed up. I lied to him.”
“What did you lie about?”
“Everything.” Another fucking sob stuck in my throat.
“Okay, start at the beginning.”
I sighed. “I ended up going to the art exhibit after all.”
I went on to explain how I met someone at the art exhibit, about losing his keys, how he helped me get to my interview, and that I’d fallen head over ass in love. I omitted a few details, like what I lied about, the intimacy we’d shared, and Michael’s name. Telling Dominic who he was would only jeopardize their friendship, and I couldn’t live with that.
By the time I’d finished the story, I was blubbering again.
Gathering me in his arms, Dominic held me tight, rocking me, soothing me with nonsensical assurances that it would all be okay. It wouldn’t. I wouldn’t. Not for a while, anyway.
When I’d exhausted myself into silence, he drew his head back to look at me. “If it makes you feel any better, I screwed up, too. Sarah and I had a fight, and I left.”
“You left her there alone with her father at death’s door?” I pushed at his chest and his arms fell away. “It must have been one hell of a fight.”
“It was.” Now, it was his turn to stare out the window, and all I could think was that he might have been emotionally absent for Sarah because he’d been so preoccupied with worry when I didn’t answer my phone.
“What did you fight about?” Please don’t say me.
He flopped back on the sofa and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands. “Fuck, I don’t even remember.”
“You don’t remember what the fight was about, or you don’t want to face the real reason you fought?”
“It was…” He got up to pace. “It was stupid and”—he smacked his chest hard—“and all about me and my insecurities.”
I nodded. This I could understand. Abandonment and neglect had done a number on both of us.
“It just seemed that as soon as we got to South Africa, she didn’t need me anymore. I tried to be supportive, but I…” His tanned cheeks flared red, and he stopped pacing to look at his feet. “I felt useless and in the way.”
“I’m sure you weren’t. If I know anything about you, it’s that you always put others above yourself.”
“I was so used to having her all to myself. I was…jealous.” He waved aside the words about to spill from my mouth. “I know, it’s ridiculous, and I’m ashamed to say it. I talked her into going down to the cafeteria to eat, and on the elevator ride down, I made the mistake of suggesting we go to her parents’ house to get some rest. But in my defense, she was dead on her feet. She hadn’t left the hospital in two days.”
“You were thinking of her.”
“I was, but…I don’t know. Maybe because I was holding her in the elevator when I suggested it and she felt my… Fuck, I can’t help it if I get hard every time I touch her.”
Hands over my ears, I sang, “Lalalalalalala.”
Dominic laughed, and his mood seemed lighter. “Anyway, she accused me of trying to get her alone for sex, which I wasn’t, and that led to an argument. She told me to leave, so I did. Then all I could think about on the flight home was whether she actually made it to the cafeteria to eat.”
“Yep, you’re a real ass.”
“I know.”
“I’m kidding.” I shook my head. “Dominic, it was probably her fear and uncertainty about her father’s condition that caused her to lash out.”
He sighed. “Yeah, I realized that after I calmed down.”
“So why are you still here?”
Planting his hands on his hips, he lifted an accusing brow. “I booked a return flight as soon as we landed, but I came home to check on you first and found you gone.”
For just a moment, I’d lost myself in Dominic’s pain, but now, my own problems came rushing back. “I’m so sorry.”
He sank down beside me again and took my hand in his. “Daisy, if this guy you met is so great, why can’t you just explain whatever it is that you lied about, say you’re sorry, and live happily ever after?”
“Because I know him—er, his type. He’s a player. He used me to get rid of his flavor of last week.” Just saying those words sliced at my heart. They had been so easy to fling at Liz, and now, I’d become the cliché.
“Are you sure? You said the time you spent with him was good. Sounds like he was into you. Sometimes, things aren’t always as they seem.”
I tugged my hand from his. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am on your side, but if what you shared was so special, you owe it to yourself to think about all the possibilities.”
“Like what?”
“Okay, for instance, maybe he’s not really a player. Maybe he’s just afraid of getting his heart broken.”
“Like you?”
“Yes, like me. In the heat of the moment, I let the doubts I’d had when I met Sara creep in. I felt like Sarah was only with me because she didn’t know anyone here in London. I was just a fill-in until she could get home again to her friends and family.”
“Dominic.” I gave him my best shame on you face.
“I know.” He held up his hands. “Let me give you another example. You remember Michael, right? I mentioned him the other day.”
I stiffened but managed another nod as my heart began to beat faster.
“He’s as confident as a person can be without being conceited, and anyone who doesn’t really know him would think he’s a player…like your guy.”
Nausea rolled in my belly. He’s not my guy. Will never be my guy.
“His dad tries on women like clothing and discards them just as easily. He’s been married and divorced more times than you can count on one hand. Because of that, Michael won’t let himself commit to a relationship for the sake of not being alone.”
“I don’t understand how that isn’t the same as being a player.”
“He believes it’s not fair to let a woman become invested if he’s not going to do the same. Claims one date, sometimes less, is all it takes to know if she’s the one or not, and he’ll go on searching until he finds his Miss Right. And when he does find her, he’ll move heaven and earth to keep her.”
Fuck . I thought I was all cried out, but fresh tears pricked my eyes as I processed Michael’s perspective. How was it any different from women dating men until they found the right match? Why would I be free to do so, but not Michael? I’d been such a fool.
Talk about a double standard.
“Granted,” Dominic went on, “Michael’s a good-looking guy. He’s confident, and women flock to that shit, so it makes him look like a player. But he’s not.” He chuckled. “Honestly, I thought he was delusional, but that’s exactly how it was for me when I met Sarah. I don’t want anyone but her.”
The events of my weekend with Michael replayed in my mind. His consideration. How he’d been so patient when I was lashing out because I couldn’t find Dominic’s keys. How he’d involved his mother and made my interview possible. And yesterday, at the market, women couldn’t keep their eyes off him, yet he never seemed to notice.
From the very beginning, he could have called a locksmith and a cab and said, “See ya.” But he hadn’t.
Instead, he wanted to get to know me. He wanted more time with me, more than one night.
That didn’t mean I was Michael’s Miss Right. But Domonic made a good point. I owed it to myself and to Michael to try. “I’ve made a big mistake.”
He nodded. “We’re a pair, aren’t we?”
I jumped off the couch. “I’ve got to go.”
“You might want to change first. You’re looking a little…worn.”
“Good idea.” A warm feeling of home lifted the corners of my mouth…and my heart. I hadn’t realized just how much I missed Dominic and our heart-to-hearts since he left New York. “I’m so glad I’m going to have you around more.”
Surprise widened his eyes. “You got the job?”
“I got the job.”
He scooped me up in a hug. “That’s so great.”
Dominic’s ringtone filtered down the stairs. He dumped me on the sofa, and I laughed as he took them two at a time to answer. Shaking my head, I followed him up to shower and change into something that didn’t smell ripe.
I’d have just enough time to swing by Michael’s place before my flight. Hopefully, I could convince him to forgive me and give me another chance before I said goodbye for a couple of weeks.
I only hoped Dominic was right about Michael. Either way, when I flew home today, I’d be leaving my heart in London.
****
Michael
Warmth sliced across my face as light snuck through the cracks in the blinds. I reached for Danielle, but the sheets beside me were cold. Levering up on one elbow, I looked at the clock. Seven a.m. I scanned the room. Her clothes were on the floor beside mine.
I flopped back down on the bed. She’d probably stolen my T-shirt. She seemed to like wearing my shirts. I certainly liked seeing her in them…and taking them off her.
Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I sat up and stretched. I rose, did my business in the bathroom, and brushed my teeth to avoid offending her with a morning kiss. More than a kiss if I had anything to do with it.
I slid into a pair of shorts, gathered up our clothes, and headed downstairs.
“It’s your turn to cook breakfast,” I called out as I rounded the newel post.
I stopped at the opening to the kitchen. The emptiness of the space reached out to punch me in the gut. The bag she’d left on the island was gone. I turned around to check the entryway. The shoes she’d purchased yesterday were gone. “Goddammit.”
I dropped the clothes and ran up the stairs to make sure I hadn’t missed her. A search of the empty rooms told me what I feared most but what I already knew. She was gone, too.
Just like that. No note. No goodbye. Nothing. But why? Why wouldn’t she give me at least that? She’d given me fucking little else besides the best sex of my life.
Wrong. In the brief time I had with her, she’d awakened a part of me I feared I’d never find, much less feel—love.
Oh, I loved my mum and begrudgingly my father. I loved Robert as a surrogate father. And Dom as a friend. And a few other relatives I couldn’t remember. But loving another person with my whole heart, mind, body, and soul…
Yeah, and then she’d fucking walked away as if our time together meant nothing. She obviously didn’t feel the same way I did.
You can’t make her love you.
No, I couldn’t. And I’d done all I could to convince her to stay…and to tell me the truth. And still, she’d left.
My mind went blank as reality truly sank in. I sat heavily on the edge of the bed, and the scent of her perfume and our lovemaking drifted from the sheets to envelop me. But rather than soothe me, it pissed me off.
I stood and ripped the sheets from the bed, only to sink onto the mattress and bury my face in them, trying to suffocate the hurt and anger raging inside me.
I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Numbness would be preferable to this indescribable and foreign ache in my chest. It was like treading water during a storm and being dragged under.
“Fuck.” Tossing the sheets back on the bed, I stood and crossed to the dresser for a T-shirt. I shoved my feet into my sneakers. I couldn’t be in the house. I needed to move…do something. A run would help drive her from my mind.
Like that’s possible.
Better than fucking sitting around, wallowing in self-pity and this feeling of desolation.
You could go after her.
If she’d wanted me to go after her, she’d have told me who she was, where to find her, and that she wanted to explore this thing between us, whether she got the bloody job and moved to England or not. But no, she’d run off like a child.
As I passed the table in the entryway, I saw the jar of lotion she’d wanted my mother to have. I stuffed it in my pocket and hesitated, my hand on the doorknob. I looked back at the house that I thought I’d made a home. I’d been wrong.
In the short few days Danielle had been in my life, she had been the one to make it feel like a home.
And now, I wanted to take a sledgehammer to my fucking favorite wall.