Polly pushed open the door and stopped. But his scent…it hung in the air. Fresh. Like he’d just been there? Or was that her exhausted, desperate mind trying to conjure him any way possible?
Her gaze was drawn like a magnet toward the bed, where it was silhouetted by the outside streetlight. Images lambasted her from all sides. Austin’s head falling forward with the belt’s first strike. Their mutual groans as he took her hard, unrelenting in his quest for her pleasure, so intent on her every reaction.
That man had felt something for her, hadn’t he? It hadn’t been a game. She didn’t care about the money anymore and would have told him, had she been given the opportunity tonight. She only wanted Austin. Had it been the same case for him?
Polly slapped at the light switch, a ceiling fan illuminating the room from above with a soft glow.
On the bed. What—
Tea bags. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of them were waiting in a mountainous pile, their pink tags waving in the fan’s breeze. Polly was across the room in a millisecond, scooping up handfuls of the familiar brand. Distressed whimpers fell from her lips because she didn’t know what they meant. Was this Austin’s way of saying good-bye? No, please.
She pinched one of the bags between her thumb and forefinger, noticing for the first time writing on the pink tag. In Austin’s confident scrawl were three bold words. I love you. Tears fell from her eyes as she picked up another bag and saw the same words. He’d written them on every single tea bag. Her chest constricted to the point of agony. Dammit. Why wasn’t he there to tell her himself?
Polly’s phone went off in her purse, making her jump a full foot in the air. She scrambled to get it out, refusing to pause and wipe the moisture from her eyes. Not Austin. Her father.
“Hello?”
A drawn-out, heavy sigh greeted her. “You’re okay.”
“Of course I’m okay.” She flopped down onto the mountain of tea bags, sending a dozen of them to the floor. “Why…why are you calling?”
Her father didn’t say anything for a moment. “The money. I woke up to go for my run and there were just…stacks of it on the kitchen table. I assumed it was you.”
“No.” Polly’s eyelids fluttered shut, nuzzling her cheek against the fragrant tea bags. “Austin. It was Austin.”
“Right.” She could hear him pacing. “What am I supposed to do with it, Polly? Pick up where I left off? That’s not an option for me. Not anymore. Not without…”
“I know. I think I knew all along it wouldn’t solve or repair anything. I just needed to fix the wrong. The way you two fixed mine.” Her hand felt heavy as she lifted it to massage her forehead. “We’ll figure something out, all right? I just need some time.”
“Where is Austin now?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Maybe he was never here at all. Maybe I’ve been asleep this whole time, dreaming him up.”
“Polly.” Her father sounded worried. What was there left to worry about? Over. It was all over. “You need to get some sleep.”
Sleep was overrated without Austin to hold her.
There will be holding, Polly.
His vow played on a loop as she drifted into unconsciousness.
…
Polly didn’t recognize any of the waitstaff in the diner. It was midafternoon, not early morning as it was when she usually came. She would still be asleep in the hotel room if a hotel clerk hadn’t knocked on the door to remind her checkout time was 11:00 a.m. Unable to leave the hotel without the possibility of returning, she’d called Drake and asked him to book another night on his credit card. The fact that he’d done so without asking any questions only made her love him more.
Acknowledging love for anyone or anything was like prodding an open wound with a fireplace poker. Would she ever be able to feel the emotion again without experiencing such blinding loss?
She slid into her usual booth, waving away the offered menu with a polite but strained smile. “Coffee, please.”
The tea bags were still in the hotel room where she’d left them, although the aroma clung to her clothes like a layer of smoke, haunting her. Austin had hijacked the tea’s comforting qualities and made them bitter. Bitter and rife with confusion. She’d woken up positive he’d been saying good-bye. Not just with the tea bags, but back in the street with Reitman. How else should she interpret the regret plaguing his handsome features?
A waitress stopped beside Polly’s table, placing a plateful of blueberry waffles in front of her. For an interminable stretch of time, all she could do was stare, the implications trickling in slowly, like a dam giving way. The thudding in her chest picked up its pace until Polly felt as if she’d just finished a marathon. She didn’t realize she was standing until her hip bumped into a table across the carpeted aisle.
Austin was there.