The Dirty Series 2(140)

Carolyn twisted the knife, then she twisted it again. She pretended to love me, and then she yanked it away just when I was reaching out. To top it all off, she let me fall to my knees in front of her and then kicked me when I was down.

Until Elisa, I had no idea that people could be so cruel, so thoughtless, so selfish. And I was cruel and thoughtless and selfish myself. Only I didn’t see it that way.

Love changed me.

And now another bout of misplaced love has made it absolutely fucking clear how worthless it is.

I was sure when Elisa died that I’d never feel anything for anyone again, but even on the flight home, I could feel the barriers around my heart starting to crack, starting to break away from the numbness. Elisa loved life. She was devastated when they gave her the diagnosis, but she never stopped appreciating the people and things she had around her. For fuck’s sake, she spent most of her last days comforting me.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out of here,” I’d sobbed into her shoulder, late one night when all the nurses were gone. I fucking hated crying in front of her. I haven’t cried in front of anyone since then, and I don’t think I ever will.

“You tried your best,” she said, leveraging all her strength to lift an arm and put it on my shoulder, her fingers brushing my cheek. “My father’s not the easiest man.”

He was a complete douchebag who tried his best to get me thrown out of the hospital on her last day. I never thought I’d meet someone more conniving, more cutthroat, than that man.

Maybe he has a match in Carolyn.

My heart is pounding so furiously that I can’t get my mind to settle down enough to go over what she said. Something about a rainflower, a website she runs.

My chest seizes up. Not only did she go behind my back and have me investigated, she’s been profiting off the entire thing.

Profiting off Elisa.

I’m not in love with my dead ex-wife. The moment her fire was extinguished, I could feel myself starting to move on, starting to move back into the world. I just thought I’d approach it with a numb, stone-cold heart for the rest of my life.

Carolyn changed that and then she took advantage of it.

That’s probably why she talked to me in the first place. That’s probably the only reason why she wanted to sleep with me. Not because she was actually attracted to me, but because she wanted a good lay that came with a great paycheck.

What a fucking whore.

Even as I think it, my mind recoils from giving her such a nasty label.

She was just doing her job, a soft, pathetic voice in the back of my mind argues. She might not have realized how serious things were until it was too late to back out.

I slam my hands against the elevator wall, my throat closing up, my face turning red. I’m not going to cry over that bitch.

She’s not a bitch.

God, isn’t this just fucked up? I want to rage at Carolyn, I want to march back down and yell at her until she’s absolutely clear on what she’s done to me, and even now I know in my shattered heart that I wouldn’t be able to go through with it.

That’s the bitch about love.

It keeps you trapped in its claws until it’s too late to do anything.

The elevator lets me out on my floor and I stab the key into the lock. Three tries and I finally get the door to swing open, slamming it behind me.

I haven’t been inside for fifteen seconds when I know I have to leave.

I text Noah.

He’s the only person I can think of who will be available on such short notice. Thank God I pay good people to be on my staff, or I’d be fucked right now. I’d be drowning myself in alcohol and sorrow, and I’m not going to do that.

That’s a lie. I might drown myself in alcohol tonight, but I’m not going to do it alone.

Bring the car around in twenty minutes. Be ready to go out.

Got it, boss.

I don’t even send him a snarky reply telling him not to fucking call me that. I just toss my phone onto the bathroom counter and turn on the shower, as hot as it will go.

Even the heat, which verges on painful, can’t wash away the throbbing in my shoulders, the twisting knife that arcs through my chest with every breath I inhale.

I stare at the wall while I let the water hit me, jaw clenched, trying not to fucking scream from the frustration and the tension wracking my body.

It’s fifteen minutes before I can bring myself to get out, yanking the towel off the hanger so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t come out of the wall.

I have to get myself under control if I’m not going to get us thrown out of someplace tonight.

I have no idea where the hell we’re going to go, but it’s not going to be here.

The first clothes in my hands are the ones that go on, and I’m startled when I see myself in the mirror. My face is too red to be healthy.