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I pound the C on the screen, pissed off at myself for being so weak and holding out hope that he would change. His plans, his mind, his entire freaking personality.
Grabbing my keys, I stalk out the back door to go pick up my tile. There’s no use in thinking Colt Wild’s going to be changing anything anytime soon, so I may as well move on with my life.
I’m at Tiles & More for an age. Like, an actual age. There’s a long line of customers picking up orders when I arrive, so I kill time strolling through the store and gathering more design ideas. When the crowd finally dies down, I manage to grab an associate’s attention and Scooter kindly fetches my order. Together we open the boxes to assess for damage and sure enough, one entire box of tile is damaged. He gets on the phone with the manufacturer and they apologize for the issue, agreeingto send another shipment out. But of course now there will be a delay.
Super.
Having no other options, I agree to the new order and Scooter, the helpful associate, loads the undamaged boxes into my car. It’s a tight fit, but we manage. On the way back to the shop, I contact Colt’s friend, Rudy, and he agrees to come over first thing tomorrow to scope out the job.
All in all, a packed day and I’m ready to call it quits for the night. I pull into the lot in the back of the building alongside Colt’s truck. Although I hate asking him for anything right now, I hope he’ll at least help me carry the tile into the shop because I highly doubt I can lug the heavy boxes myself.
I’m going to miss him.
A dull ache throbs in my chest and I pinch the bridge of my nose, willing myself not to cry.
Don’t be dumb, Trix. It was a casual fling. You’ll get over him.
I slide out of the car and head inside, my body heavy and my heart heavier as I climb the stairs to the apartment.
The door’s unlocked and I let myself in. Colt’s standing at the dresser, tossing clothing into an open suitcase on the floor. My body goes numb, the loud whoosh of blood roaring through my ears.
He’s really leaving.
Colt packing hits me hard, knocking the air from my chest. He glances up and nods in my direction, his lips a tight line.
“I thought you weren’t leaving for a few weeks. Until after the dedication?” I try to keep the panic out of my voice, but I’m not too successful. I sound needy and desperate, even to my own ears.
“My agent called me earlier this afternoon. They bumped the production dates up on the movie. They need me on settomorrow; I’m taking the red-eye tonight.” He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck, all casual, as the bottom falls out of my world.
I struggle to stay upright, the room spinning. It’s like I’m drunk on cheap liquor, even though I’ve not had a drop to drink.
I’m going to have the world’s worst hangover.A Colt hangover, and no amount of pain reliever or Gatorade will be able to cure me.
“Oh.” I shove my hand in my pocket, struggle with what to do next. Sit on the couch and watch him pack? Run to the bathroom like I did this morning? Leave?
I’ve never felt more trapped before.
Colt cracks his neck to the right, then the left. “Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair soon. I’m almost done packing.”
“Okay.” I swallow hard over my dry, scratchy throat, but stand rooted to the spot.
He flings a few more T-shirts into his suitcase, then grabs his wallet and keys from the top of the dresser.
“That’s all my stuff.” He bends down, grimacing, and zips up the suitcase. “You can keep the bed as long as you want, it’s fine.”
“I’ll get my own as soon as I can.”
“It’s really fine, I don’t need it. I’m not going to ship it out to L.A.”
Hearing the words ‘shipping’ and ‘L.A.’ is another sharp sucker punch to the gut and a wave of nausea rolls over me.
Do not hurl right now, Trix.
“I’m coming back for the dedication. I’ll stay with my brother. And you can break your end of the bargain—you don’t have to come with me. I understand.”
Biting down on my lip, I hold back the threatening tears.
I can’t believe this is happening.
