Chapter 52
Calvin
Iwalk around aimlessly until the sun peaks on the horizon.
It takes a while before my hurt and anger begins to subside and by the time I head back towards the hotel, I feel more in control of my emotions. I’ve spent years trying to work on not being controlled by them, but sometimes I slip back into old habits. Habits where I push people away, and react to whatever emotion is most prominent in that moment.
When I left the hotel, I didn’t want to be followed. I needed to be alone. I needed the space. But Nikita didn’t know that. She came after me to check on me, to be there for me, but at that moment, I didn’t recognize it as that. I snapped and she was in the firing line. All I could think about was that she knew about the two of them and didn’t say anything.
Now, I walk along the path leading back to the hotel carrying embarrassment and regret over how I acted. The fog clears in my brain as my emotions settle and I can finally think clearer. Nikita barely had a chance to get a word in when she came back to the hotel room. As soon as I saw her, my entire body set alight with the desperate need to have her again. Violet’s confession blindsided me and Nikita was lumped in along with them at the moment.
I feel like a fucking idiot for being blind to what was happening right underneath my nose between Violet and Kenneth. The betrayal sinks deep, but I know that they don’t give a shit about that. They don’t give a shit about anyone else actually. The icing on the cake was Kenneth’s behavior when I found out. He’s already a piece of work, but when you add alcohol to the mix, he becomes a complete and utter asshole. His lack of respect towards Nikita snapped something inside of me and I lunged at him. I found out he fucked my ex-girlfriend, yet him calling Nikita a bitch gets more of a reaction out of me. After a walk on the beach, allowing the fresh breeze to calm me down, I’m able to work through and compartmentalize the situation.
Am I hurt about what happened? Yes. Do I feel betrayed by two people I have considered to be close to me? Yes. Violet was my girlfriend - my almost fiancé - and Kenneth is one of the friends I have spent the most time with over the last couple of years.
Am I angry? Abso-fucking-lutely, but I’m more angry at myself than them. I’m angry that I didn’t notice the signs sooner, because there had to have been some. I had always been caught up in making sure that I did everything I could to make Violet happy. She was the prize and I was lucky enough to have gotten a chance with her. While she had been wanted by many, I was the one she had chosen and all that did was create an imposter syndrome that made me blind to her flaws. And her wandering eyes.
Now, I feel nothing towards her.
I don’t miss her, or us. Instead, my feelings are replaced by relief. Relief that I no longer have to be someone I am not. I don’t need to work hard to be the man she wants. I had stepped into the role of the perfect boyfriend, doing everything I could to make sure she was happy. Whatever standard she had, I would work my ass off to measure up to it. I molded myself to her every request and lost myself in the process.
So far I have spent my entire life seeking the validation of others in an effort to feel worthy. I feel branded by the choices my parents made in their lives and the resentment I feel towards them subconsciously fueling my every decision. My life isn’t my life because of it, but I’m tired of living that way. I want to be me and I want to be happy.
And Nikita is part of that. I have smiled and laughed more during this time with her than I have in years. She is an absolute breath of fresh air, and it’s easy to see why anyone would love her. She is easy to love and I feel myself falling for her which is why I march myself back to the hotel with my tail between my legs hoping she will talk to me. She isn’t who I should have directed my emotions towards and she deserves an apology.
The lobby of the hotel is bustling with the morning rush over to the breakfast area. People move across me as I head towards the elevator. Britney standing with her luggage by reception catches my attention, redirecting my path. “Brit?”
The receptionist pauses as Britney turns to me, dark bags under her eyes, “Hey, Cal- shit, what happened to you?”
I haven’t seen what I look like, but given the throbbing pain along my jaw and lip, it must have been fairly obvious that some damage was done. “Oh, this.” My hand lifts to my lip, my finger feeling how much bigger my bottom one was than usual, “Kenneth happened.”
Her eyes widen before there is a flicker of realization, causing her to shake her head as she turns back to the receptionist, thanking her for her assistance.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“Home.” She places her purse back into her handbag before pulling it over her shoulder. “Walk me out?”
She knows.
“Sure.” I grab the handle of her bag, rolling it behind me as we walk towards the exit.
“I take it you heard about them.”
“Violet and Kenneth? Yes, I did.” Her voice drips with detestation.
“Who told you?” I ask.
“Your girlfriend did.” We stop just outside the entrance of the hotel where the taxis and valet operate as Britney glances down at her phone before turning to me, “I bumped into her this morning when I was looking for Kenneth, and she did not hold back.”
Nikita told her?Good.
“Nikita’s not one to put things delicately.”
“No, she’s not, and thank goodness for that because no one else would have told me the truth.” A layer of anger wraps itself in her words, “Did you know?”
I shake my head. “I found out this morning too.”
She exhales a breath of disbelief. “How long do you think this has been going on for?”
“I didn’t get the details.”
“Fucking cowards,” she mutters, surprising me with her choice of curse words. Britney never curses. “I still haven’t been able to find either of them.” She carries on, looking through her handbag for something, “I went looking, but apparently, they’ve disappeared off the face of the earth, so I figured I’d do the same.”
“I take it the wedding is off?”
She glares at me, dumbfounded.
“Right. Sorry.”
“Do you want to know the saddest part about all of this?” She asks, rhetorically before carrying on, “When Nikita told me, the first thing I felt was relief because I didn’t have to move forward with this wedding. I find out that my fiancé and best friend have been messing around behind my back and I was more relieved that I finally have an out than I was by what they did.” Tears brim in her eyes. “How sad is that? I was about to commit my life to that man.”
I pull her into my arms, “I’m sorry, Brit. You don’t deserve this.”
“Neither do you,” Her voice is muffled in my chest, “Violet hurt you too.”
“I know, but that relief you’re talking about? I feel it too.”
She pulls away and wipes at her eyes, “Really?”
“Really.”
She takes a deep breath in, trying to stop herself from crying. “I haven’t told anyone I’m leaving,” she admits, “I was going to pull a runaway bride.”
I exhale a breath of laughter. “Do it. You don’t owe anyone anything.”
“My dad’s going to kill me.”
“He’ll get over it.”
She chuckles, “I don’t think so. He’s going to lose his mind when he finds out I’ve left.”
“I should hope that when he finds out why, he’ll understand your reasoning. You deserve to be happy.”
“So do you.” Offering me a small smile, she squeezes my hand. “I know I barely got to know her, but I’ve got a good feeling about Nikita. She has a good heart.”
“I hope that good heart of hers has enough forgiveness in it to forgive me. I was a dick to her after I found out,” I admit, hating the regret I feel over that. “I took it out on her when I shouldn’t have.”
She waves down a sleek black car, “What are you doing standing here with me then? You need to go find her and apologize, like now, honey.”
Chuckling, I agree with her, “Where are you going to go now?” The car stops in front of us, an older gentleman getting out and greeting us before loading Britney’s bags in the trunk.
“Back home. I’ve got to get rid of Kenneth’s shit and change the locks. There’s no way that man is stepping back into my apartment.” Opening the back door, she places her handbag down on the seat before turning back to me, “If anyone asks where I am, tell them to ask Kenneth and Violet.”
“You got it.”
She smiles before pulling me in for one last hug, “And if you see Kenneth again, give him a blue eye for me, will ya?”
I chuckle, “I hope I already did.”
With one last smile and wave, Britney gets into the car and off she goes. I was worried about how she was going to take the news, but I hadn’t realized that this marriage wasn’t what she wanted in the first place. I thought I was the only one playing a role.
While that doesn’t excuse what Violet and Kenneth did, I feel better knowing that Britney is going to be just fine without either of them.
I head back inside and make my way back to my hotel room, going over my apology in my head, hoping that Nikita will hear me out. The look of rejection in her eyes when I told her to leave is all I can see, fueling the guilt that seeps into my stomach.
“Nikita?” I shout as I step inside, closing the door behind me. Walking over, I place the key card on the counter, “Are you here, linda?”
Silence.
I move over to the balcony, sticking my head out to see if she is there, but come up empty. Making my way into the bedroom, I repeat the action as I call for her again, but there is no response. Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I proceed to dial her number, hoping my four percent battery will hold out a little longer. The line goes straight to voicemail, no matter how many times I try.
She could be getting breakfast.
That isn’t a bad guess. Before I can head downstairs to look for her, I need to charge my phone. Moving over to my side of the bed, I grab the charger cable and place my phone on charge.
As I glance around the room aimlessly, I notice that it is empty.
No.
Her bright orange suitcase is no longer occupying the space in the corner of our room, leaving my plain black one without company. “No.”
I moved to open the cupboards, hoping to find her clothes that she unpacked but find empty shelves instead. My stomach drops at the realization.
She left.
Rushing back to my phone, I dial her number again, hoping for a different response than her voicemail. I’m met with the same outcome.
I move to type her a message.
Me
Nikita, where are you? I need to talk to you.
I wait, begging the universe to see those three dots in the speech bubble, but there is nothing.
Me
Please don’t tell me that you left without telling me. I need to know that you’re okay.
Same outcome.
“Fuck!” I drop my phone on the bedside table, taking a seat on the side of the bed. I run my fingers through my hair in exasperation.
She left without telling me. Did she check into a different room? A different hotel? Did she leave the fucking country?
I feel sick. Sick with guilt. In a fight-or-flight situation, Nikita and I are the same. Rejection is her sore spot and I have done exactly that. I pushed her away and she is giving me what I asked for.
Be careful what you wish for.