She leaned back against the kitchen counter, running the paper across her lips. Her grazed lips swollen from his kisses, the tender skin abraded by his beard. At least he hadn’t disappeared without a word. That would have been too much to bear.
What have you done?
She slid down onto the floor. She felt dirty. Tainted. When he’d touched her, when he’d kissed her—she’d felt Josh.
The Josh.
All of him. And so she’d allowed him to be.
There are things you don’t forget. The way a man makes you feel, the way he moves his mouth, his hands, his body. The way he walks. None of those things could be changed. Could they?
Aubrey, listen to yourself. Be rational. Think, for a moment, about what you’re saying.
She did. She thought it through, from the first moment, at the edge of the park—their park—when he got out of the cab. His gait, the shoulders squared, the cock of his head.
She’d been so sure. And when he kissed her last night, she’d known, without a doubt, Chase was Josh.
Impossible.
Wishful thinking?
Wish fulfillment. Bolstered by bits of lunacy brought about by the horrid news about Josh being declared dead, delivered in such a hurtful way by his beast of a mother, coupled with a very long run with no prep and a major overindulgence in adult beverages.
That was all.
Winston came in through the open door and cuddled against her. She stroked his ears.
One of the things she’d learned in therapy: the mind is a very powerful entity. It can play tricks. It can be manipulated. Hers in particular had been strained to the point of breaking by Josh’s disappearance, and the harassment, the trial and the alcohol abuse. By her past. She was an easy mark, should someone want to take advantage of her fragility.
Had Chase Boden taken advantage of that? Maybe he’d been lying all along, maybe he knew all about Josh and her background. Maybe she was just another notch on his belt. Maybe he fucked a new girl in every town and slipped out in the morning, leaving behind a note.
God. She’d been played. No, it was worse than that. She’d allowed herself to be played.
You stupid, stupid girl.
She screamed, the harsh sound echoing in the house. Winston leaped away, flinching, then scooted next to her, tongue lolling, worried. She buried her face in his flank and cried.
Her thoughts chased themselves, piling up like snowflakes in a winter storm, melting under her memory’s withering heat. She indulged her demons. Dreamed of a world in which Josh was alive, that he’d come back for her. It was a warm and happy feeling, one that she wanted to stay wrapped up in like a blanket, heated from within with happy memories.
Now, Aubrey. No need for that. Go easy on yourself. You suffered a trauma yesterday, whether you want to admit it or not. And you reacted in a completely healthy way. Probably the healthiest way you could have. Josh is not coming back. You must move on. Your rational mind accepts this, even if your subconscious occasionally betrays you. Why else would you have acted so out of character yesterday—drinks with a stranger only the top of the heap?
She had no idea how long she sat on the cold kitchen floor, the hard tile making her buttocks ache. She couldn’t shake the thought that somehow, some way, Chase was Josh.
Her therapist wanted her to reach out when she felt herself drowning in uncertainties. But she didn’t want to hear that emotionless, clinical voice right now.
What do you think, Aubrey? How does that make you feel?
If I knew, would I be coming to you for the answers? No, you stupid shrink. I’d decide for myself.
There was only one thing left to do. She called Meghan, who answered on the first ring.
“Yo! What up, buttercup? How are you feeling this morning?”
“Hi, Meghan. I’m . . . okay.”
The languorous tone was gone. “Aubrey, what’s wrong?”
“It’s . . . I need to talk about Chase Boden.”
Meghan chuckled. The all-knowingness of it set Aubrey’s teeth on edge. She rarely got angry with Meghan—that was counterproductive. Meghan was a fairy, an ethereal spirit, uncontrolled, uncouth, un-everything. She didn’t respond to anger, or any emotion save actual pain.
“Stop laughing.”
“Ah. I see. He did seem rather intent on getting you home safely.”
“Meghan, I don’t know anything about him.”
“Did you sleep with him?”
“Meghan!”
“You did! Oh, my God, Aubrey, I am so proud of you! You’ve needed to do this for a long time. Shake off the cobwebs. You know your cherry was growing back. Bad things happen to women who don’t have sex. How was he? The way that man moves, his hips sway. When I watched the two of you heading out the door, all I could think about was—”
“Could you back off for just one second, please? I’m not kidding around here. I need to know who this guy is.”
“What’s the matter, sweetie? Did he eat and run?”
Meghan’s tone was unmistakable. Aubrey could practically see her eyebrows waggling lasciviously.
“Don’t be gauche, Meghan. I’m serious. I need to know everything I can about him.”