I walk into the kitchen and see that his work keys are gone. They were here when I left, so it means he came and got them, but left his box of shit.
I’m quick to grab my cell and send him a text.
You left a box of your shit here. Can you come get it, please?
I want to add on ‘asshole’ at the end of the message, but I exercise immense restraint and just press send. I stare at the screen and wait for a response before adding:
If you don’t come get it, I’m going to donate it to the Salvation Army.
He’s had plenty of time, and I’ve been more than reasonable. I wait for a reply, but after it becomes clear he’s not going to respond, I let out a sigh and set my cell on the table. Staring at it and resisting the urge to smash it with a hammer, just because it reminds me of him.
“I need a cup of coffee,” I mutter, walking over to the Keurig machine, starting it, and then sitting down in a kitchen chair. I bought this dining set right before he moved in. My first meal at this table was with him. I cooked something special, I don’t remember what. I let out a long exhale and try to ignore the painful reminder that I once loved him. I gave him everything I had.
Sighing, I place my head in my hands and try to calm my racing thoughts.
I focus on work. That’s always a good outlet. It’s productive and motivating. But even after acing my presentation at the convention, I feel stressed. There’s a meeting on Monday and I have to be prepared, but with thoughts of Logan and the prospect of dealing with Ian on my mind, it’s going to be a struggle.
I’m on edge and afraid of losing my job. I was hired as a temp, so I'm essentially on a probationary period. All signs point to me being just fine, but I’m feeling so damn insecure. Even though after how good I did with my presentation, I should be more than fine. I guess I'm worried because after losing Ian, my job is the only thing I have left.
At this point, I need my job just to stay sane, I tell myself as I pick at the loose thread on the tablecloth. I need a new one. I need a new everything.
Definitely a new man… like Logan. I wish I were back in Logan’s bed, being devoured, feeling wanted. No man has ever made me feel like that before. I felt... powerful sleeping with a man of his stature.
I shake off the desire and the guilt from leaving.
It’s best that I left the way I did and nipped that in the bud. A relationship between us would’ve ended badly anyway. I could easily see myself getting attached to him and then being discarded like yesterday’s news. I don’t need a man right now. I run my hands down my face and get up as I hear the coffee machine spurting out the last few drops.
I don’t need anyone. I pour a ton of sugar in my mug and then stir it up before sitting back down.
Monday morning will be here before I know it. Then I can stop all this worrying and just focus on work.
I take a nice, relaxing sip of coffee and already feel a little better, so I check my phone. Still no message from the asshole even though it’s marked as read. Fucking hell. I slam it down on the table and grip my coffee cup.
“Whatever,” I mutter, resisting the urge to send him a particularly nasty text. I am a better person than this, and I do not need to lower myself to his level.
I get up from the table and walk into the living room and take my anger out on Ian’s box instead, delivering several sharp kicks to it. My coffee’s in my hand and the first kick sends a little spilling over the side of the box. I don’t care. I use the inside of my foot so it doesn’t hurt. Or maybe I’m just not kicking hard enough since there’s only a small pathetic dent in the side of the cardboard. Whatever. I feel better. Sort of.
Not nearly as good as I felt last night.
If being with Logan taught me anything, it’s that Ian didn’t know a goddamn thing about putting it down in the bedroom. Just thinking about it causes my pussy to throb with need and pain, a reminder of how hard Logan fucked me. Shivers tingle down my spine and send goosebumps over my body.
Shit, I need to go upstairs and work until I pass out and get him out of my head. It’s the best thing for me.
Pushing Logan from my mind, I check all the messages on my landline and make sure the doors are locked before turning in for a long night of work. As I climb the stairs to my room, I realize getting Logan, his powerful body, and his massive cock out of my mind will not be an easy task.
It’s definitely going to be a long weekend till Monday.
Chapter 11
Charlotte
Thank fuck it’s Monday. Getting Logan off my mind… well, it didn’t happen. I got a ton of work done and even forgot about my asshole ex. But every time I fell asleep, I dreamed of Logan’s touch. That’s not a good sign. And waking up horny and lonely is not a good combination.