Lainey sauntered over to the sofa, stepping between it and the coffee table until she was straddling my legs. Lowering herself into my lap, a fog of her signature Juicy Couture perfume enveloped us, and I found myself mourning the classic Chanel No. 5 Addison used to strategically dab behind her ears and in the crook of her elbows. It wasn’t much, but it was just enough for me to appreciate whenever I devoured her.
The warmth of Lainey’s lips as they pressed against my forehead sent my body into a state of rigor. My hands, which should’ve been halfway up her shirt by then, were paralyzed at my side. My cock hadn’t a single throb.
Fuck.
Even though I wasn’t with Addison anymore, my body and soul and all that I was still belonged to her and only her. Not even no-strings-attached sex with Lainey McQuinn could make me forget the pain.
I gently pushed her off my lap. “Fuck, Lainey. I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”
“What the hell is your problem?” She crossed her arms, brow furrowed.
“I’m sorry.” There was nothing more to say, and it sure as hell wasn’t anything I needed to talk to her about. Bolting for the door, I got the hell out of there.
I paced the dated kitchen of a musty, abandoned apartment building, checking my watch every other minute. I’d received a tip on a building about to hit the market, and like the good agent I was, notified Wilder immediately and scheduled a showing.
We hadn’t seen each other nor spoken in two weeks. Two very long, excruciating weeks. I tried to lose myself in running and work, and any free time I had was spent following Coco around like a lost puppy or organizing and re-organizing my closet. Coco assured me I had done the right thing for everyone involved, and she let me cry on her shoulder every night that first week.
“The scars will always be there,” she’d said as she rubbed my back, her voice distant as if she were recalling her own pain. “No denying that. But with time, it won’t hurt as much.”
A knock on the door made my heart fall flat on the floor. Straightening my shoulders and bracing myself, I let him in. Dressed in an Italian silk suit with a bold red tie and polished shoes, he offered me a cordial nod as he stepped past, his cold, uninviting demeanor a far cry from the man falling apart at the seams just two weeks ago.
“So, this hits the market tomorrow,” I said, getting right down to business and praying the overwhelming urge to talk about us would dissipate. “There are nine units as well as retail space at ground level. It’s currently being occupied by a longtime tenant, as I’m sure you already noticed.”
His hands in his pockets, he went from room to room in the small, one-bedroom apartment, saying nothing.
“There are five studios, three one-bedroom units, and one two-bedroom unit,” I added, following him, yet keeping a careful distance. “Seller insists all units are up to code mechanically. He was in the middle of renovating the building and ran into some money problems, so that should give us plenty of leverage if you want to move quick on this. I’d suggest and all cash offer and a three-day close. That’s assuming you want the place.”
I flipped a light switch, and the room lit up for three seconds before the bulb popped and burnt out.
“Place needs a lot of work. No denying that. We’ll demand an inspection, of course,” I continued, silently willing him to speak. His quietude ate away at me second by second. “The location couldn’t be better. I mean, units like this, at this price, don’t come around often.”
Wilder turned on his heel, walking up to me with a steady cadence. “I really need you to stop talking right now.”
My lips sealed at his demand and the heaviness in my chest weighed me down. He never used to speak to me that way. I knew he was hurting, but he had to know I was too.
He turned away, heading into the bathroom of the unit and inspecting drawers and fixtures. Normally I’d have told him the water was turned off or that I knew of a guy who remodeled bathrooms at a discount, but I kept my mouth shut just as he’d asked.
We headed back to the kitchen where my bag waited on the dusty Formica countertop.
“I’ll think about this and let you know.” His lifeless aqua eyes avoided mine as he raked his palm across the hint of a five o’clock shadow lining his chiseled jaw.
I nodded, scared to breathe a word that might set him off. We lingered in the stillness of the vacated apartment for a moment before I took the first step away from him, ignoring his penetrating stare. But by the time I reached the door, it was too much. I couldn’t leave like that.
“I’m hurting too, you know.” I winced, though he didn’t see it. My back toward him, I was too terrified to turn around. “I miss you every second of every day.”
Giving him a few seconds to respond, my heart sunk when I realized he wasn’t going to say anything. With an unsteady hand twisting the black iron doorknob, I stepped out into the hall, picking up the key box from the floor and waiting for him to leave.
By the time he emerged, he made a beeline for the stairs, saying nothing. A teasing whisper of his cologne breezed by as he walked away, lingering as I listened to the fade of his footsteps. A couple weeks ago we were lovers, tackling this bullshit called life together.
Now he hated me.
* * *
I kicked off my heels and dug my aching feet into the soft rug by my front door. Seeing Wilder that morning had left me a mess of scattershot emotions, disabling me from uttering a complete sentence for the remainder of the afternoon. I was in the midst of cancelling my afternoon appointments, something I’d never done before, when Skylar brought me a handful of chocolates.