Chapter 17
Marina
I blink, hoping to make sense of where I am.
Closing my eyes again doesn’t help. So I open them and scan what’s in front of me.
Everything is different—unfamiliar curtains hanging over a window I’ve never seen before.
A blanket that’s so much more luxurious than mine in Vancouver and not blue like the one at my brother’s house where I stay in New York.
Even the diffused sunshine trying to sneak in isn’t what I’m used to.
Except for the scent in the air. I snuggle the pillow a little tighter and take a deep inhale. Cash.
I roll over and prop myself up on my hands but find the bed empty beside me.
“Cash?” I call, but I don’t hear a response, so I’m louder.
“Cash?” I flip the covers up and tiptoe across the room to the bathroom.
The door is wide open, same with the bedroom door that leads to the hall.
“Cash?” It would be impossible for him not to hear me, which means I’m alone.
To confirm, I grab his shirt from the floor and put it over my head just before I enter the hallway. “Cash, are you here?” Nothing. “Huh.”
Standing at the window looking out, I wonder if I could spot him among the busy street from nine stories up. The sun is barely awake at this hour and hides behind clouds. The view of the water calms, though the white caps might foreshadow a storm later.
I move into the kitchen, searching for signs of Cash’s existence this morning, but I don’t find any. The coffee isn’t made, no dishes are in the sink, and the counters look clean except where a Post-it Note is stuck to it.
Where is he? Out for coffee? Grabbing bagels for us? Off to the next country to race? I have no idea, but I hope this note tells me. Otherwise, I’m going to feel like I imagined last night.
My body aches in ways that I haven’t ever felt—a little pain but wrapped in pleasure. I smile as I peel the note from the counter.
Last night was the best night.
Thanks for a great time.
Cash
I stare at the yellow paper for at least a minute before the words truly sink in. Thanks for a great time? That’s it? He’s not coming back?
No coffee?
No bagel?
No warning of his departure?
With every red flag flying, anger accompanies the disappointment flooding my veins. But more so, I thought we’d have a nice leisurely morning, then I’d go pack and fly back to Vancouver later. Seems I’ll be doing the walk of shame instead.
Returning to the bedroom, I debate if I should shower to wash off the humiliation or just get dressed and go back to Lark and Harbor’s where I’m staying to do the deed?
I look for a clock unsuccessfully but find my phone on the coffee table.
It’s early, not even seven. If I go now, I could slip into the house unnoticed.
I decide that’s the best plan I have, so I pull on my jeans and slip my bra back on under the shirt.
Picking up my shirt, I go to put on my shoes and grab my bag on the way out.
As soon as I call the elevator, I text Cash:
Revenge for breakfast? I didn’t take you for one with a vendetta.
He doesn’t respond, which irks me even further.
I step onto the sidewalk into the cool morning air and order a car to pick me up.
I didn’t think about being photographed outside Cash Ryatt’s apartment building until I see what looks to be a tourist wearing a purple Westcott Racing shirt standing across the street.
Crap. Ducking my head, I hightail it down the block.
When I see a car matching the description from the app, I wave at them.
After confirming it’s my ride, I hop in the back and slink down in the seat, hoping to God that person didn’t catch me in a photo.
It’s also a good reminder that Cash is not unknown.
Just because he was to me doesn’t mean he isn’t famous.
I text Poppy, knowing she’s asleep on the west coast of Canada since they’re three hours behind New York City:
Guess what I’m doing?
She responds:
What?
Me:
Why are you up at this hour?
Poppy:
I was snacking. Why are you up at this hour?
I didn’t know she had a middle-of-the-night appetite, but maybe it’s a thing with chefs. I reply:
Walk of shaming it back across town.
My phone instantly rings. I laugh, needing the lightheartedness right now. “Hello?”
“Do tell.”
“Two words.” I track my gaze to the driver, who seems too occupied in his own world to be concerned with mine. Whispering, I say, “Cash. Ryatt.”
“Holy sh—”
“I know.”
“How the hell did that happen? What happened to he’s horrible, and I hate him and all that talk about rude, offensive, frustrating?” She takes a breath and adds, “Attractive.”
“Absurdly so. Yeah, I remember, and I’m eating my words now.”
“What else were you eating last night?”
A bubble of laughter escapes me. “Pizza. That’s it.”
She fake yawns, and then she laughs. “Boring. Tell me the good stuff.”
I stare out the window and begin to recognize that I’m getting close to Lark and Harbor’s place. “There was so much good, but then this morning, he ruined it.”
“What happened, Mar?” She pushes the joking aside, and her sincerity of concern comes through. “He left.”
“What do you mean he left? Weren’t you at his place?”
“Yes,” I reply, suddenly feeling as lost on what happened as she is. Why did he freaking leave without telling me where he was going? Or if he’ll even return.
“He dick-and-dashed from his own place? That’s a twist I didn’t see coming.”
I’m more astonished than she sounds because I lived it.
I’m still in a state of awe and wonderment over last night.
“Seems so. Also, please never use that phrase again. Ew.” The car pulls in front of my brother’s townhome.
“I need to go. I have to sneak back into my family’s place like I did as a teenager. ”
“That sounds fun. Good luck and I’ll pick you up from the airport this evening. I’m thinking wings?”
“You sure do think about food. That’s right. You’re a chef.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty much all I think about. Have fun. Safe travels.”
I step onto the curb and carefully walk up the stairs.
I don’t know why I’m sneaking around outside, so I snap out of it and punch the code in like the adult I am.
When I step into the secure lobby, I key in the password before entering through the front door into the airy foyer.
It’s a beautiful home, restored and renovated over a two-year period.
I wasn’t surprised when it was featured in Décor Digest.
My phone pings in my hand before I have a chance to take one step up the stairs. “Hello?” I hear my sister-in-law’s voice coming from a darker part of the house.
“Hi,” I reply, tracking her from where I think the greeting came from—the kitchen. I enter to find a small lamp glowing from the corner counter and her sitting at a built-in desk in front of a laptop. “You’re up early.”
She moves her glasses to her head. Lark is effortlessly beautiful, and her soul reflects the same.
An accomplished doctor and mom of two, she’s always busy.
Though I have a feeling my brother also keeps her on her toes.
They’re an enviable match and a nice balance to each other.
I could only dream of meeting someone who fills in the holes that life has left.
That completeness must be what contentment feels like. I can only imagine.
“Are you working?”
Dragging her hair over her shoulder, she says, “Catching up on work, and I like to be up and awake when the kids get up. We have about ten minutes before the chaos begins.” She angles on the side of the chair to face me. “How are you?”
Although I appreciate that she doesn’t show any signs of having an opinion on my early morning arrival, I reply, “I’m sorry for coming in at this hour.”
“You don’t need to apologize, Marina, or explain. Though I’m glad that Harbor left this morning, or you might be bombarded with endless questions.” She laughs softly. “No matter your age, you’ll always be his little sister.”
“He’s always been a good big brother. He left early. Where is he off to?”
Swiveling back toward the screen when the laptop pings, she says, “The South of France. Harbor, Cash, Duncan, and a few others took the plane just after five this morning.”
“Cash?” Her gaze darts back to me, causing me to shift. “I don’t know why I said that. I meant—”
“It’s okay.” She smiles, pulling her glasses back over her eyes. “I know what you meant.” No judgment. No conviction. Just letting me off the hook as if I didn’t just royally stick my foot in my mouth. “Will I see you later, or are you flying back to Vancouver?”
“I’m flying out today. I’ll be back in the city in two weeks, though, for the premiere.”
“That’s fun. Are you looking forward to it?”
I shrug, unsure about a lot of things these days. The film not so much, but the men in my life, I’m lost on what to think or feel. Well, not Corbin. He’s awful, but Cash has my head spinning with this new information. “Are they racing in France?”
“Yes. They always fly out early to acclimate to the time change, rest, and prepare. All the stuff they need to do before the qualifier next weekend.”
It’s hard to stay mad at him when work calls, but couldn’t he have told me? At least as a courtesy? Especially after last night.
The sun’s broken free from the clouds and shining in through the windows. “I’m going to get a nap in and pack before I head off.”
“Hey, Marina?” I stop before I reach the hallway and turn back.
Lark smiles, easing her shoulders into a gentle slope forward.
“They can ban you from the track but not from living your life. I don’t think you did anything wrong.
I do think you need to hone your sneaking skills again. They’re a little rusty.”
My heart beats a bit faster. Is she saying what I think she is? Does she know? I don’t want to give anything away if she doesn’t. “Good advice.”
“It was good seeing you again. We’ve missed you. The kids have, too.”
“It’s been nice to see everyone these past few trips.”
“The door is always open. You’re welcome to stay here for the premiere if you’d like.”
I smile. “Thanks. I appreciate that. I’ll see you later.”
Taking the stairs by two, I reach the bedroom and slip inside. With my back against it, I check my phone to see the message that came through earlier. If it’s Poppy with her dick-and-dash jokes—Cash.
His text reads:
Good morning, beautiful! No vendetta. You were sleeping so soundly, but I still tried to disturb you.
I kissed every inch of your incredible body, a.k.a.
annihilated you with my mouth, but the most I got was a moan.
And an opportunity to suck on your inner thigh.
Hope you don’t have any nudity scenes ever, but if you do, the makeup team will have a field day.
Tossing the phone on the bed, I’m quick to strip down my jeans and prop my foot on the bed. I don’t think I’ve ever been as happy as I am right now. Seeing my inner thigh covered in hickeys is just the sweetest thing ever.
Who knew bruises would make me smile so much.
Cash made the effort. For me.
I crawl onto the bed and snuggle under the covers in his shirt, which still has the faintest scent of him, to read the rest of the novel he wrote to me in text.
Is it wrong to miss you? If it is, I don’t want to be right. God, is this what happens when you sleep with the girl of your dreams?
No. It’s what happens when you start having feelings. I don’t type that response, but I see you, Cash. And I raise you one heart blooming with emotions on my part.
I read the last bit:
I can’t wait to see you again, babe. Cash xo.
I didn’t take him for an exes and ohs kind of guy, but I like this side of him. Quick to send him a reply, I type:
I can’t wait to more than see you again. Marina xo.
With the phone held tight to my chest, I close my eyes, dreaming of when I get to see him next.