Ruin: Part One

Chapter 11




"Doug said you didn't go home with him." Her voice is behind me. I hadn't closed the door to my bedroom when I raced into the apartment and down the hall. I knew I was alone the moment my key unhinged the lock. The space was quiet and empty.

I don't turn around to greet her. "He just wanted to have sex with me."

"Don't all men just want to have sex?" She blinks through a smile. "Is your face bruised?"

I instinctively want to retreat as she walks towards me. "I tripped and fell."

"What?" Her hand dashes over my cheek, skimming the edge of a bruise. "When did you fall?"

"When I thought I could wear heels on a sidewalk grate." I pull her hand into mine. If she pushes my hair away from my forehead, she'll see the abrasion. I don’t want that.

Her face lights up with a smile. "I've done that too. I fell into a hotdog vendor's cart a few months ago."

I laugh at the vision of that. "You're lucky he didn't sue you."

"I know, right?" She pats my forearm. "You're home early. Did you go to work today?"

Lying to Alexa isn't a path I want to venture down. I'm sure she's told me her fair share of small white lies, just as I have to her since we met. If I make a decision to lie now, I'll be changing the entire course of our friendship. "I can pick up my keys to my apartment in an hour."

She raises her eyebrows at me. "Seriously? I'll come with you."

"I'm excited to have my own place." I continue the detour around the subject of where I was last night, hoping she'll hold on for the ride.

She doesn't. "You were with a man, weren't you?"

I nod as my hand jumps to my chin.

"Maybe I can meet him sometime?" She tilts her face forward. "Is he someone I should meet?"

You have no idea, Alexa. You have no f*cking idea.

"You'll meet him," I say with every confidence. "I know you will."

"Good." She turns on her heel. "I'll tell Noah we're going to your place."



***



I plow through my day, listening to Vivian's incessant ramblings about what happened on the latest episode of a crime drama that hasn't seen a production schedule in more than a decade. I should really tell her to Google that entire episode guide to save her the endless hours she'll stay glued to her laptop, watching a handsome, fit detective solve a crime, without any strings attached, in less than an hour.

"Were you seriously hurt?"

I turn abruptly to face the voice asking the almost-too-personal question. "I'm fine."

It's Vivian. The concern in her tone is masking the unusually high lilt in her voice. "I was worried when a doctor called."

"I was concerned about missing work," I offer in response. "I wanted to be here. I'm sorry I couldn't be."

"I'm shocked you're here today." She takes a step closer to me and I swear I see actual compassion in her eyes. "It sounds like it was a pretty hard fall."

"I'm clumsy," I chuckle. "I need to get better at walking in heels."

"He sounded nice," she begins before she takes a short breath. "I mean the doctor that called about you, he sounded really nice."

"He was helpful." My words are clipped. I don’t want to delve into the personal details of my relationship with Ben.

She taps her hand on the edge of my desk. "Is he accepting new patients?"

I purse my lips together. I have to wonder if she's asking because she's nursing a pain or a stubborn cough that won't go away or if her interest in Ben falls beyond the scope of what he can offer in his office. "I have no idea."

"What's his name again?" She skims her finger across the screen of her smart phone.

"Dr. Foster," I say slowly. "His name is Dr. Ben Foster."

She taps something into her phone before she turns to walk away. "Thanks, Kayla. I'll give him a call."

As I watch her walk away my mind instantly wanders to thoughts about how many other women search Ben out to find out exactly how thorough his bedside manner is.