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I push myself to sit, dragging the sheets across my breasts as my gaze roams the empty room. For a moment, I wonder if he’s in the bathroom, but I don’t hear the sound of the shower running.
“Miles?” I call and wait, but I get no response.
I’m about to drag myself off the bed to look for him when I see a piece of paper on the bedside table. With my heart thudding, I stretch and reach for it.
Giselle,
Thanks for a wonderful day and a spectacular night.
Miles
What the fuck?
I scan the message again and glance around the room, as if I can conjure him and cuss him out. Flipping the paper around, I search for at least a contact detail. But the paper is blank.
My face crumbles as it dawns on me that all Miles ever wanted from me was a one-night stand.
“This is absurd!” Frustrated, I place my hand on my forehead. There I was, thinking that Miles and I connected, that there was something special between us.
How could I have been this foolish?
Tears pool in my eyes, and I angrily wipe them away. I’d sworn never to cry over a man again, but my spirits are at an all-time low. Yet again, I have repeated my pattern. Falling for an older man, who is obviously unavailable.
“Why do you do this to yourself all the time, Gigi?” I ask in the third person, as I do when I’m annoyed at myself.
When he told me his age, I should have run away as fast as my legs could carry me. But no, blown away by his angular face, jet black hair, and stormy gray eyes, I let myself be seduced like a naive maiden.
Older men are never good news for me.
Angry that I easily fell into bed with a stranger and allowed him to have his way with me, I scrunch the paper tightly and throw it away, hoping it will catch fire from my glare.
I shake my head and remind myself of what I learned in my meditation classes.
Don’t shoot the messenger, hear the message.
The message is indeed loud and clear. Miles doesn’t want a relationship with me. I was silly to believe that this time, it would be different because we had things in common. We enjoyed each other’s company and had sizzling chemistry between us, which culminated in mind-blowing sex.
But that was all.
Although I said I wouldn’t cry, I put my hands across my face to stem the flow of tears. What exactly am I trying to prove by creating such an unsatisfying reality for myself?
I continue tormenting myself as I rise from the bed to take a quick shower. After putting on my clothes, I leave the luxurious room. In the elevator, an older couple, who are obviously still in love, look at my blotchy face with concern. It’s like adding salt to the wound because I feel as if I’ll never experience something similar. With my emotions raw, I exit the five-star hotel, feeling both cheap and used.
The sun is high up in the sky, bathing the busy street in its autumn warmth. I turn around to look at the impressive building again, knowing I’ll never pass by it now without thinking of Miles.
“I don’t have anybody to blame but myself,” I mutter as I hail a cab to take me to my apartment on the Upper East Side. My phone battery is dead. Gabriel, my older brother, must be worried. After I sent him a message that I wouldn’t be home last night, I was too caught up in orgasming to bother charging it.
Fifteen minutes later, the cab pulls up in front of my building on East End Avenue. Even though my entire family moved to Paris years ago, my parents kept this place, thinking we might want to use it at some point. They were right. Gabriel has been living in it since he returned to New York.
The apartment is spacious, and when I told him I’d be taking a job at the Met, he insisted I move in with him and his five-year-old daughter, Maddie. I gladly took him up on his offer, but now I wonder if I did the right thing. I’d simply told him in the message that I was spending the night with a friend. Gabriel isn’t the nosy type, but I can’t help feeling that I owe him an explanation.
For a moment, I wonder if I should walk down a few blocks to get an espresso from Starbucks to help kick start my day. But when I remember Gabriel might be worried, given that I only arrived in New York a few days ago, I change my mind.
I greet the doorman as he welcomes me and hands me packages. Arriving at the fifteenth floor, I release a sigh as I open the door. Surprisingly, Gabriel and Maddie are dressed to go out.
“Aunt Gigi!”
“I hope you aren’t going out to start a search party,” I say as Maddie rushes to throw her arms around me. She is adorable in her maroon tutu, with her blond hair held in a tight bun and emerald eyes awash with excitement.
