Today is different, however. This time, I actually mean it. I finally found what I’ve been looking for but hoping I never actually would.
I may have been young and na?ve and far too trusting, but he’s changed that. He’s changed me. All the last-minute business trips, the late nights out, and the hushed phone calls point to one thing, but I haven’t had solid proof, and I didn’t want to believe the implications.
Now, I have no choice.
This morning, as I finished packing for him for yet another last-minute trip, this one taking him away for weeks, it fell right into my hands. Literally. Apparently, the dry cleaners weren’t as careful as he’d hoped, because as he’s showering, I’m now sitting on our massive king-sized bed, holding a teeny, tiny pair of panties I know isn’t mine. The last part finally registers in my mind, and I throw the small scrap of material onto the floor as if it’s about to burn me.
Caught cheating thanks to dirty panties? When did my life become such a freaking cliché? All of this time, I’ve had my suspicions, but somewhere, deep down, I’ve made excuses for him. But no longer. Now, I know the truth.
As I stare at them, I’m numb. My heart should be breaking, yet it’s not. Perhaps it’s shock. Maybe my heart was already hardening towards him after months of aloofness and distance. Or maybe I’m still in denial. He’ll come out of the bathroom, tell me that I’m wrong and he loves me and no one else.
Wishful thinking. Even I’m not that na?ve.
Sitting here in the room I’ve occupied for nearly two years, listening to the man I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with singing in the shower as if he doesn’t have a care in the world, I wonder where it all went wrong. Everything was so perfect—until it wasn’t.
Sighing, I mentally sift through our memories, trying to determine how we got to where we are now.
The day I met Adrian Morningstar, my whole world was altered. I’d been lost, lonely, and he was exactly what I needed to bring me out of my shell, and out of my state of grief. One look, one touch, one beautiful smile was all it took for my knees to go weak, for my heart to race, and for me to know that he was the man I was going to spend my life with. I know that it sounds crazy—love at first sight—but there was just something about him that captivated me and never let go.
So many things drew me to him on that first encounter when we met at The Daily Grind, a tiny coffee shop near my receptionist job in downtown Philadelphia. It could’ve been his gorgeous olive complexion, the kind that gave him the appearance of a mythological god—one almost too beautiful to look at. It was as if my peon eyes weren’t worthy, but regardless of the consequences, I couldn’t resist a glance, which resulted in spine-tingling pleasure. Tan skin, piercing, green eyes, and a thousand-watt smile that was almost too good to be true. My eyes feasted on him, this beautiful work of art come to life, one that even the most acclaimed of artists would beg to capture for all of eternity. Still, to my utter surprise, there was more to him than his looks. Perhaps it was his charm and innate kindness, or his cool confidence or commanding authority that enraptured me. Whatever it was, I was instantly hooked.
On that fateful afternoon, as I struggled to balance my piping-hot latte with one hand and my laptop in the other, he rose to his feet with exquisite grace, insisting on helping me. He took my drink, wincing at the sleeveless paper cup as it burned his skin, but then masked the pain with a smile, one that sent immediate shivers down my spine.
He set it on the nearest table, and I gave my thanks. Disappointment set in as he turned away with only a simple nod. I mentally chastised myself for even thinking he’d sit down. I hadn’t exactly been approachable for the last couple of years, and the permanent scowl on my face wasn’t what one would call inviting. Instead of dwelling on it, I got lost in job advertisements, cursing myself for not having listened to my father when he’d warned me against going down the art history degree path. I could almost hear his booming laugh and feel his pat on my shoulder.
“What’s good as a hobby doesn’t always make the finest career, Brie.”
Mom, however, had understood my passion, and just like always, Dad had given in. If only I’d have listened.
It’d been nearly six months since I’d graduated, and all I had to show for my degree was a piece of paper and a student loan bill that made me queasy when I thought about it.
I got fed up after a fruitless job search and closed my laptop with a sigh. My eyes fluttered shut, and I rolled my neck, hoping to work some of the stress out. It wasn’t that I minded being a receptionist. I really didn’t. The hours and the pay were decent, but it wasn’t going to make a dent on my student loans, nor was it my passion. Coming to Philadelphia, I was discovering, had been a bad idea. There were no openings for a recent graduate in my field, so I was going to have to expand my job hunt. Not that it mattered. I could go anywhere, do anything. I had no ties. I had nothing to hold me back.
Except myself.
Just as I was ready to pack up and leave, a throat cleared, causing me to jump and my eyes to pop open. Looking up, I was surprised to see my savior from earlier. He peered down at me with a delicious smile that warmed me all the way to my toes.
“Want to get out of here?” he asked, his voice thick and rich like molten lava, pouring over me as it consumed every inch of my skin. It was seductive and enticing, and I didn’t want to say no.
However, I found I couldn’t respond at all to this stranger’s proposition.
My eyebrows drew together, and I looked around, unsure if he was really asking me that question. A haughty laugh emitted from his throat, and if I hadn’t already been leaning towards saying yes, that sexy sound would have sealed the deal.