Chapter 32
“You… come here often?”
“It's been a while since I've been here.”
She notices my response is curt and stays quiet until we reach the room.
As soon as we step inside, she runs to the window to take in the view, and you really can see almost the entire city from here.
The hotel is the Shangri-La at The Shard; I like it here because of the view, which is magnificent.
“I've always wanted to come here, but I never had an excuse. The view is so beautiful; I'd always see it in the news and magazines.”
“Yeah, that's exactly why I like it here. This panoramic window is simply spectacular,” I say, remembering my apartment has one just like it.
Then she turns to me and, as I watch, starts walking toward me.
She stops right in front of me. Her hands wrap around the collar of my shirt, which is unbuttoned at the top.
She moves closer, and I stay motionless, waiting to see what her next move will be.
Then she presses her lips to mine, giving me a peck, and waits for me to take the initiative to deepen the kiss.
I oblige, sliding my hands around her waist, and give her what she's been wanting.
But something was wrong, and I didn't know what.
I kept kissing her until she started lowering her hands, unbuttoning my shirt.
That's when it hit me—in that touch—it wasn't her.
With my hands still on her waist, I gently pushed her away.
She looks at me, surprised, as if she'd done something wrong.
But no, I was the problem here, and then she asks the damn question:
“Did I do something wrong?” Why do they always ask that?!
“No… I'm sorry, I'm just not feeling right. Actually, I shouldn't have even brought you here; it was my mistake. You're wonderful… but I'm just not in the mood. Forgive me.”
“You like someone, don't you?”
I'm standing in front of the panoramic window, looking at the city lights and the tiny figures walking through the cold streets of London. Turning just my head, I respond:
“Is it that obvious? I thought I could hide it better.” I give a bitter half-smile.
“No, don't worry, it doesn't show on your face; you hide it well. I just figured, after you turned me down.”
“I didn't reject you,” I say, still with my back to her, “it's just recent.” Who am I trying to fool? Chloe and I split up a little over two months ago. “And I thought it would be easier to be with someone else.”
“Don't blame yourself, I don't care about that… But if you love her that much, why did you let her go?”
Of course I'm not going to tell her everything that really happened. It's safer to keep it vague, especially since I don't even know this woman's name. So I simply say:
“We had a problem that, for me, is unforgivable. I'm sorry… but I don't want to talk about her.”
“Of course, sorry for prying. Well, stay here—I'm going to grab a taxi and go.”
I was about to turn around when she added:
“You don't need to take me, I can get a taxi just fine. Don't worry.” She was heading out when she called back, “It was nice meeting you.”
I just give a polite smile and once again realize I didn't even ask her name. In my entire life, I've never been in a situation like this, not even when Abigail cheated on me.
I've always been a level-headed man, never letting feelings get the better of me—at least until that brat came into my life.
I smile again, remembering all the moments we spent together.
There were so many, because she was always with me—at the office, in meetings, on trips, at lunches and dinners.
She became part of my routine, and now it's hard to do everything alone.
I take a deep breath and, hands in my pockets, walk over to the minibar and pour myself a glass of whiskey.
I return to my spot by the window, gazing down at everything so tiny from up here.
The conversation we had at the nightclub with Denner comes back to me—him talking about that dancer…
And it keeps nagging at me: could it be Chloe? !
I'm sure she won't want to see me, not after the last time we saw each other, when I said horrible things to her. I was so hurt and ended up taking it out on her. I wouldn't blame her if she never wanted to see my face again. But just thinking about it hurts. God, does it hurt.
I spent the night right there—I'd already reserved the room anyway. After drinking almost a whole bottle of whiskey, I decided it was best to stay put. I didn't want to cause any accidents.
The next morning, I wake up with a headache and sunlight hitting my face through the window.
The day has dawned with a pale sun, despite the cold.
My phone starts ringing. I bury my face in the pillow and decide to ignore it.
That irritating sound stops for a moment, but the peace lasts only a few seconds.
It starts ringing again, so I decide to see which idiot is calling me at this hour.
I grab the phone, eyes still closed, and without looking at the screen, I already know who it must be.
“What do you want? Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“Judging by your mood, the hookup didn’t work out, huh?”
The idiot starts laughing loudly on the other end, and I have to pull the phone away from my ear.
“Can you keep it down? I have a headache, the kind where even a pin dropping bothers me.”
“That’s called a migraine, you idiot. Tell me where you are and I’ll bring you some medicine.”
“At the usual hotel. And bring me some sunglasses and coffee.”
“Want anything else, madam…?”
I don’t even wait for him to finish before hanging up. I close the curtains, which still let the light in, and go back to burying my head in the pillow. Well, the day has begun, and it’s going to be one of those.