Chapter 7
MOLLY
The first thing I register when I wake up is warmth. A steady, solid kind of warmth that isn’t just from the sheets wrapped around me. It takes a second for the haze to clear, for me to piece together exactly where I am. My eyes snap open, and I look around.
The room around me is familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time.
The wardrobe and chest of drawers stand in the right places, but the coat hanging on the handle of the wardrobe isn’t mine.
The chair is in the right place beside the low coffee table, but the robe slung over the back of the chair isn’t mine and the things on the coffee table aren’t mine either.
It takes a moment for me to register what’s going on.
I blame the fact I am pretty hungover for taking so long to work out where I am.
I’m in Joshua’s room. He’s staying at the Caesar’s Palace hotel - the same place I work and have a room.
It’s why the room looks so familiar – they are all pretty much the same until you get to the suites – and so unfamiliar – the room is filled with someone else’s stuff – at the same time.
My breath catches as I slowly turn my head.
Joshua lies beside me, his face relaxed in sleep, his arm draped loosely across my stomach.
In the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, he looks different.
Less polished. More real. And, if I’m being honest, entirely too goodlooking for someone whose face is mussed up from sleep and is drooling slightly onto the pillow.
For half a second, I let myself watch him, let myself soak in the memory of last night - the fire between us, the way he made me come so hard I wasn’t sure I would survive it and the way he made me feel like nothing else in the world mattered.
But then reality comes crashing back in, hard and fast. He’s leaving today and I won’t see him again.
The thought makes me sad, but I knew this going in.
I cannot be here when he wakes up. I can’t handle a goodbye type of conversation, and even worse, I can’t handle the idea of us exchanging details and promising to stay in touch.
At first, I think we genuinely would call and text every day and slowly, it would get less and less until we just stopped talking to each other.
I would prefer a memory of one red hot night than the drawn-out death of the passion between us.
I gently move Joshua’s arm from my stomach and then a wave of panic hits me as I sit up, being careful not to jostle the bed.
My job. If anyone sees me leaving this room, I’m done.
The hotel doesn’t exactly encourage employees to get tangled up with guests, especially high-profile ones like him.
God, last night I was nervous about the idea of having a drink in the bar with him in case I got fired.
Imagine how well this would go down with management.
And beyond that, the idea of being caught doing the walk of shame in the middle of a five-star resort is not how I want to start my day.
I get that it’s Vegas and the likelihood of anyone outside of the staff noticing me or caring where I’ve been even if they do is slim at best, but I would know what I had done, and I would still feel the shame of being caught.
Holding my breath, I slide out of bed, barely suppressing a wince when my bare feet hit the cold floor.
I scan the room for my clothes, finding my shirt draped over a lamp beside the bed, my bra on the ground next to it.
Not far from them, my skirt and panties and finally, my shoes which are both discarded near the foot of the bed.
I gather them up as quietly as I can, then I move toward the bathroom, clutching them against my chest.
Once I’m inside the bathroom – again, a strangely familiar room filled with unfamiliar things - I exhale, letting myself have one moment to process everything.
My reflection in the mirror is all flushed skin, messy hair, and swollen lips.
I look like someone who had the best night of her life. And damn it, I did.
But that doesn’t change the fact that I need to leave. If staying until Joshua woke up would change the fact he had to leave today, I would do it, but it won’t, so why put us both through that awkwardness.
I get dressed quickly, finger combing my hair into some semblance of order, and swilling my mouth out with some of Joshua’s mouthwash which sits beside the sink.
My makeup is smudged beyond repair, but it’s not like I have time to fix it.
I splash some cold water on my fingers and wipe away the worst of the black smudges from beneath my eyes, and then I take a deep breath, and crack the door open.
Joshua hasn’t moved, and I breath a silent sigh of relief.
I step out as quietly as possible, and I look around, trying to find my purse.
I spot it on the ground next to the door and it brings back a flash of memory of Joshua and me stepping into the room and then him slamming me against the door and kissing me, me dropping my purse and pushing my hands into his hair.
I blink away the memory and creep across the room.
I grab my purse, and I’m almost free, but just as I reach for the door handle, Joshua speaks up behind me his voice thick with sleep.
It stops me in my tracks, and I cringe inside.
"Leaving already?" he says.
My stomach twists, but I keep my face carefully neutral as I turn.
He’s propped up on one elbow now, his hair tousled, looking only half awake.
He’s watching me with those impossibly sharp eyes.
The ones that see too much. The ones that make me feel seen in a different sort of a way, a way that I like.
I force a smile, trying to act like I’m not dying inside at being caught sneaking out, and also trying to act like I’m not just willing him to say the word, to ask me to stay.
"Yeah. I should go before someone sees me," I say.
He studies me for a long moment, his gaze flicking over my face like he’s trying to read something there. Then he nods, though there’s something unreadable in his expression.
"Right. I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble," he replies.
There’s something in his tone that I can’t quite place, something that makes my chest feel too tight.
Does he feel like I’ve somehow betrayed him?
I doubt it’s anything that deep. I’m naturally an overthinker but this time, I have to let this go or I’ll drive myself crazy.
I force myself not to dwell on it and then I realize I’m still standing in the doorway to Joshua’s room, watching him.
I give him one last look, one last small smile, and then I slip out of the door before I can do something stupid.
Like crawl back into bed with him, invited or not.
The hallway is empty when I step out, thank God. I keep my head down as I make my way toward the elevators, willing myself not to look guilty. No one knows where I’ve been. No one knows what I’ve done.
And by the time I reach my own room, I tell myself that’s the way it should be.