If this didn’t work, then it was over. It had to be. I was too young to live in a sexless relationship.
Mind made up, I’d finished shopping at the farmer’s market and headed over to his place with a plan—and nothing else except the lacy black thong and trench coat I was wearing.
We’d been together for a long time, and it seemed childish to give it up without a fight. But that was no excuse for losing the spark in our relationship, and if he wasn’t going to be the one to put it there, then I was going to at least try to. For both our sakes.
Some part of me still felt conflicted, but I shoved it back and resolved to muscle through.
Clearing my throat, I squared my shoulders, pulled out my key, and walked through the door—just in time to see two people tumble from the sofa onto the floor.
Two naked people.
Two familiar naked people, one literally inside the other.
Trevor and his assistant Adelaide. Jesus Christ.
My heart stopped in my chest and I clenched my fists, opening and closing my mouth a few times like a bass flopping around on a pier. Unlike in the movies, he didn’t have the balls to tell me it wasn’t what it looked like. He just shoved the blonde on top of him away before getting up to display his rapidly deflating penis.
“Maggie—”
“No,” I said, holding up a trembling hand. “I don’t even want to fucking hear it.”
I wheeled around and stormed out, slamming the door behind me. I heard the door open again, heard his feet thundering after me, but I kept shaking my head and saying “no” over and over again so loud that I nearly drowned everything else out until I reached the elevator.
He was a few feet away from me with a towel around his waist that was too small for him, but before he could reach me, the elevator doors slid shut.
Pulse hammering, I winced and then leaned back against the metal walls as the cart jerked to life, speeding me down to the lobby.
“No,” I said again, closing my eyes and rubbing them. “No, Jesus, no.”
Was this seriously happening right now? God, it explained so much. The fact that, so many nights, Trevor had been stuck at work. The way he’d suddenly stopped wanting to sleep over on the weekends. The fact that he hadn’t touched me in months.
What a fool I was, trying to fix things.
My cheeks burned with humiliation as I scurried down the street, trying to get a head start in case he decided to get dressed and follow me.
I couldn’t face him. Not yet. I couldn’t call Sam, either. By now, he’d only just be getting off his flight and I sure as hell wasn’t going to ruin the first day of his vacation with my breakup.
Because that’s what this was.
After all these years, Trevor and I were over. All that time, wasted.
A strange sort of grief settled over me and tears stung my eyes. Weird that, even now, I didn’t mourn the loss of Trevor in my life. It was the investment of time and energy and the humiliation at being played for a fool that shook me the deepest. Maybe tomorrow, when it wasn’t so fresh…when I wasn’t running down the street in a pair of stilettos and a trench coat, I could cling to that.
Checking to make sure my credit card and ID were in my pocket where I’d left them, I made a dash to the liquor store down the street and got myself a cart.
Tonight was a night that called for Amaretto sours and shots of tequila in between. It was a disgusting combination, but it was going to get the job done and quick.
When I’d finished getting my supplies, I went to the neighboring convenience store and stocked up on chips, pretzels, ice cream, and candy, and then hauled all my goodies to the subway.
I couldn’t go home. That would be the first place Trevor would go to look for me. But I did have a spare set of keys to Sam’s house, and his place was a block closer to the station than my own anyway.
Ignoring the glances of leering old men near me, I fingered the keys in my pocket and squared my jaw. I was only supposed to water the plants and check the mail, but I knew Sam wouldn’t mind if I ducked out at his place for a while. In fact, if he knew what was going on, he would insist on it.
God only knew he’d hidden out at my apartment from his innumerable girlfriends over the years. Then, maybe after some ice cream and a few stiff drinks, I would be able to really process what that lying piece of shit had done to me.
Because honestly? Right now it didn’t make any sense.
I was good in bed. I knew it. I was open to trying new things, was an active and vocal participant. I wasn’t going to let this make me think otherwise.
And as far as frequency? It was always me asking him if he wanted to have sex lately, never the other way around. I took an interest in the things he liked, I listened to his boring work stories...
But more than that, I’d thought he was a good guy. A genuinely good guy.
But he wasn’t.
The subway pulled to a stop and I gathered up my things before trudging onto the platform and making my way to Sam’s place. It was easy enough to let myself in, and I set my things down on the entryway table before glancing around and allowing myself to slump against the wall.
This was exactly what I needed.
A place like Sam’s—all clean, with sleek lines and modern furniture—felt like a trip to a nice hotel. Like I was on a vacation from a really shitty, depressing reality.
So that’s exactly what I did. After unpacking my bags, I grabbed my favorite tub of ice cream, found the only channel still playing Christmas movies, and poured myself a drink. Tonight was a night to forget my troubles—big as they were. Tomorrow, I’d figure it out. A few hours later, I’d changed into a pair of Sam’s sweatpants and an old T-shirt, managed to drink two Amaretto sours and a shot of tequila, and was feeling less angry and a little sleepy. Maybe I’d actually get some sleep tonight after all.
I said a silent prayer of thanks to Ben, Jerry, and Jose Cuervo as I blearily made my way to Sam’s bedroom. He hadn’t bothered to make his bed before he left this morning, but I didn’t mind.
Instead, I snuggled into the space where I knew he slept, breathing in deep so I could smell his shampoo on the pillow, and closed my eyes. Sam would never do what Trevor had done to me.
Never.
I drifted off to sleep for what felt like roughly three seconds before I woke up to find my thigh vibrating and the late morning sun streaming through the window.
“What the...” I sat up, rubbing my eye with one hand as I grappled down into the sheets where my cell phone rested. I found ten missed calls—seven from Trevor, three from Sam.
Sliding my thumb over Sam’s name, I called him back and pressed the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” I asked, my voice cracked and groggy.
“It’s eleven there,” he said.
“Yeah, yep. I knew that,” I said, trying to make my voice sound less like it had just gone through a wood chipper.
“So why are you still asleep?” he asked.
“I’m not allowed to sleep in?” I asked lightly, the pounding in my head making me a little nauseous with its intensity.