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“Morning.”
“Feeling better?”
“What?” I asked.
Please don’t tell me he doesn’t understand this is done. Please.
“You said you were sick.”
Oh. Shit. I forgot about that. “Yeah, I’m fine. Stomach bug,” I mumbled. I shifted awkwardly on my feet, not knowing what else to say to him as silence fell. He stood between me and my office, and my only choices were to stand there wordlessly or brush past him. Neither was particularly appealing.
“How’s your mom?”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
“Yep.”
“Is this how it’s going to be now?” He asked, irritation biting at his words.
“I don’t see how else it should be,” I replied. I shrugged at him, pushing myself to be as nonchalant as I could. “The deal is done. You got your investment. I got paid. Why wouldn’t we go back to how it was before?”
“So after everything, you’re Ice Bunny again?”
“Don’t fucking call me that, you brute. I’m not a bunny and I never have been,” I snapped. I took the plunge and moved toward my office, bumping my shoulder against the spot just above his elbow as I passed him. “And I’m not managing your private diary anymore, either. Fire me if you want.”
————
Weeks.
They felt more like months with how slowly they passed. He didn’t fire me, thankfully, and was now spending the majority of his time at the resort instead of here in the office. It worked out better for both of us. He’d text or email if specific things needed scheduling, but our communication was kept to a minimum. I updated his schedule, and he checked it daily. I didn’t have to tell him when things were coming up.
It didn’t make it any easier though.
The thoughts and memories were still there. They plagued me most at night, ate at my dreams, replaying the best moments, and putting them up against what I’d heard in the garage. I truly believed that getting over him would be as easy as getting under him, but apparently, my heart thought differently.
He’d kept my salary at the much higher figure and I hadn’t questioned it. I’d let him pay me in excess until he remembered to cut out the two-and-a-half-times figure he’d given me. I’d been able to easily keep Mom on her medication and pay the bills, but I knew damn well there was a point where that wouldn’t be the case anymore. I had to prepare for it and find another job as soon as I could.
Dani had taken Mom out to her evening physical therapy session by the time I got home. With the house to myself for the first time in weeks, I finally, thankfully, had a safe space to let loose. I’d held in every sob, every choked cry since that night, not wanting Mom to overhear and worry. I hadn’t thrown myself into her arms like I thought I would, hadn’t spoken to her about it at all. I’d dodged every question. The anxiety of taking back my admission that I was falling in love with him was too much to bear.
My phone buzzed in my pocket as I collapsed onto my bed. I fished it out, thinking nothing of it other than maybe it was an email about work, but seeing the reminder I’d set up in my period tracking app on the screen completely caught me off guard.
You haven’t logged a period in eight weeks. Would you like to add one now?
I nearly dropped my phone.
That can’t be right. That can’t be fucking right. Scrambling to open the app, I double-checked the date of my last one, crossing the wires of when that was, what I was doing, and if the information was accurate. I was regular. I was always regular.
My hands shook as I stared at it. It was correct.
“No,” I breathed, dropping it on the bed. The screen stared back at me as if it were alive, taunting me, daring me to check for myself.
I’d been a bigger fool than I thought. Thinking back, I couldn’t remember a single instance of me and Wade using any form of protection. I’d been on the pill when I was with James but had stopped taking it soon after. I hadn’t needed to think about it then. Old habits die fucking hard, I guess.
I raced to the bathroom, the room spinning around me and tore open the cabinets below the sink. I had to have a test in there. Somewhere, somehow, one had to be left over from my more promiscuous days. I didn’t even care if it was expired. I just needed some form of a negative.
One singular test called to me from the far recesses of the cabinet. I snatched it up, tore the plastic with my teeth, and whipped the cap off at the same moment that my pants and underwear dropped to the floor.
