Chapter Eleven
I woke up on top of the world this morning. New Year, new me, and all that crap.
I was on a bit of a high, given that I’d patched things up with my sister, and things were going really well with Chris last night, until they weren’t, obviously. But I think I might have a shot at patching that up too, and then 2021 really can start.
I’m not exactly looking my best. My make-up has well and truly faded to nothing, I forgot to grab my clothes last night, so I only have Chris’s shirt in here with me, and my hair is a strange combination of straight and curly. I don’t look like I’m about to go and ‘get my man’, but I’m working with the tools 2021 has given me so far.
If I can march up to Chris looking like this, apologise, and tell him how I feel about him, and if he can forgive me and grab me and kiss me then I’ll know I’ve got myself a good one.
I know, I’m getting a bit ahead of myself, but we really have had this inexplicable connection between us since the start. I feel like I know him – like I’ve known him for a long time – and the more I get to know him, the more I want to find out more.
Last night was simply perfect – until it wasn’t – but in the cold light of day, after a great night’s sleep, on a luxurious super king mattress and a clean conscience, I can see that Chris only had what was best for me on his mind. He wasn’t trying to mess with me, he was trying to patch things up between me and my family. He isn’t a sociopath, he’s just a well-intentioned person who probably misses his own family beyond words.
I head downstairs with a real spring in my step. I practically bounce down the stairs, nearly dance into the kitchen, and I expect to find Chris there, cooking, making coffee – there’s no sign of him though.
I head to the lounge, to that 85” TV he’s so fond of, but he isn’t there either.
I look at my watch. It’s 11 am. Is he still in bed?
I head for the stairs, to go and knock on the guest room door, to wake him up because I just want to tell him how grateful I am right now, except something catches my eye at the bottom on the stairs that stops me in my tracks.
In the hallway, there is a tall wooden chest of drawers. Above it, there are hooks for coats. Below it, space for shoes. And the reason it catches my eye is because only my coat and shoes are there. Chris’s are gone.
Oh my God. He’s taken off. He’s left me here to fend for myself, to cover our tracks, to clean up the mess he has made.
I can’t believe it. I thought he was different, I really did. How can I have been so stupid?
I run back to the dining room where I grab the clothes I regret slinking off last night, charge back upstairs to the bedroom I shouldn’t have been sleeping in, and quickly hurry into my clothes. I need to gather up all signs that anyone has been here and get rid of any evidence that could suggest I (specifically) was here.
That’s the main downside of ‘having never done anything like this before’: I have no idea what to do now.