“Me? Well, don’t. I don’t need your fucking pity.”
“You spend so much time hiding from attachment that you don’t recognize it when it slaps you in the face. No wonder you only do one-night-stands. You’re too much of a fucking chicken.” She slams her empty glass on the counter and stands. Turning towards the door, she doesn’t look at me when she speaks with a tight voice. “You know, for one night I thought I’d found the real you. The little part inside that’s not an asshole. Guess the joke’s on me. Turns out that little part’s an asshole too.”
And with that, she strides right out, leaving me with my empty glass of scotch and an untouched glass of water. She’s almost outside when I go after her, except the ship picks that moment to roll again, and I’m too stiff and tipsy to compensate. I stumble against the counter and grab on to stay upright.
Fuck.
By the time I’m moving, she’s gone and the other patrons are pointedly looking away.
Fuck.
I slam my fist in the counter, getting a small amount of pleasure out of watching the others jump. Then I grab the glass of water she gave me and chug it all down, to the last drop. Even that gets me thinking of last night. Of sweat and sweet promises, all in the heat of the moment. Why can’t I hate her? I don’t want this heavy feeling in my chest. Maybe she doesn’t want to be stuck with me, but I sure as hell seem to be stuck with her.
Fuck.
Throwing the glass on the floor, I smile thinly at the loud crash as it shatters into a starburst of tiny shards. I get up again, my shoes crunching as I walk over the floor, my gaze straight forward, and this time I don’t stumble. But I don’t meet anyone’s gaze on the way out either.
Chapter 26: Angie
When I get back to the room, the skies are dark and there’s a slight patter of rain on the windows. Nothing big, but enough that I won’t be doing my moping out on the balcony. The fan’s blowing too much cool air now that the sun isn’t baking our room through the windows, so I shut it off. The only noise left is the dull hum of the engines.
The whole room reminds me of Gavin, but where else would I go? I can’t even take a nap without thinking about what happened in the bed. What a cruel twist of fate that the person who knows my body so well, doesn’t seem to know me at all. We fit so perfectly together, and now everything’s a mess.
I hate that he’s an asshole, and I hate how even now I’d forgive him if it meant feeling like we did last night again. Briefly, I consider taking one of the chairs and jamming it up against the door knob. If he can’t get in, I can’t be tempted to forgive him, but I don’t. It’s his room too, and even if he’s an asshole, I don’t have to be. I just want to.
We’re supposed to eat at the captain’s table again tonight, but I can’t. No way. I barely held it together at the bar, and I’m sure everyone on board who might care knows about our fight by now. If I have to play the happy wife, I’ll probably drive a fork through his leg before the main course shows up. The mental image of smiling at Captain Chuck while Gavin clutches his bleeding leg makes me snort humorlessly. No, Angie! Bad idea.
I’ll just get room service or something. Or sleep. Lie here and cry while I plan more ways to hurt Gavin. I don’t even know. For now I just stare at the ceiling, thinking about last night. There’s a fleck of paint missing. Ugh, noticing that feels like a pathetic new low.
LL Cool J shouts out from my purse, startling me out of my daydreaming. I almost don’t get it. I’m busy being miserable here in bed, and the phone is all the way over there. It doesn’t stop though, so with a sigh, I get up on my elbows. I blow my bangs out of my face. Time for a trim. Just one more thing not going my way. Rolling to the edge of the bed and reaching over, I barely reach the fancy purse, grimacing when I remember who bought it for me.
Might as well get it over with. The suck is strong with me today. I tap the button and put the phone to my ear. “Hi, Mom.”
“Angela! Where are you? And don’t give me that Cassie crap. She let the cat out of the bag.”
I get that she’s annoyed, but I’m an adult. She’s probably mostly hurt I lied. I suppose I’d be too. “Sorry, Mom. I’m...” I draw a deep breath. “I’m on a cruise.”
There’s silence for a long moment. “A cruise? How did you... Wait, did you take Herb’s tickets?”
“Yeah. I know I shouldn’t have, but it seemed such a shame to just throw them out.”
She tsks. “I thought so too, but you didn’t have to be sneaky about it. Why didn’t you just tell me?” Yup, she’s hurt. She’s using that disappointed Mom voice. Everyone’s mom has one, the one that makes you feel guilty no matter what you did. It’s actually been a while since I’ve heard it.