Then I started to dream up how she would get even. The visions of her in Dickhead’s arms make me run faster. I press the button again and my run turns to a full-on sprint. I run faster and faster, chasing something I can never catch.
A knock at my door saves me from myself. It’s Lou. I open it while I struggle to regain my breath.
“Working out hard, huh, Mr. M?”
“Just running. Helps me decompress.” Usually it does anyway.
“Delivery guy dropped this off from Mile High. Figured it might be important.” He hands me an unmarked small brown package.
“Thanks, Lou.”
I consider tossing the thing in the garbage, actually getting as far as opening the drawer with the hidden trash can and almost dropping it in. Almost. But my curiosity wins out. What the hell could Miles send me after the shit he’s pulled? Begrudgingly, I open the package. It’s a clear jewel case with a DVD inside. I turn it over and find it marked. Day 1 Barbados. That sick, sadistic bastard. He’s going to continue to send me the dailies.
I make it almost a full hour before I’m staring at the monitor. I mutter a dozen curses as I hit play. Five minutes in, the camera zooms in on her. She’s sitting on the beach alone wearing a flowing cover up staring out to the ocean, her knees drawn to her chest. She looks sad. Lonely, even. I freeze the video and stare at the screen like a stalker.
I miss the feel of her skin and the sounds of her laugh. The way she comes back at me with a jab every time I challenge her. It pains me to see the feistiness gone from her eyes. Eventually, I muster the strength to hit play and, within minutes, I wish I could hit the rewind button and unsee what flashes on my screen.
Dickhead cozies up next to her. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he pulls her close to him, his hand rubbing her shoulder intimately.
“You feeling better today?” he asks.
“Yes. Sorry about not joining the welcome party last night. I really didn’t feel well.”
“You didn’t miss much. Mercedes got drunk and Jessica decided to go skinny-dipping.”
“Sounds like at least you had some fun.”
He strokes her hair. “There isn’t much fun when you’re not around.”
“Thanks. But I’m not very much fun these days.”
“Well, I’ll have to work on that.” He grins at her and I get the urge to smack the con-artist dimples from his face. “My new sole mission in life is to see a smile on that beautiful face.” Yeah, and to fuck three other women. Dickhead.
“Come on.” He stands and offers her his hands.
“Where are we going?” She hesitates but puts her hands in his. He tugs her up and then, in one swooping motion, lifts her over his shoulder.
“Flynn!” she warns as he takes off running toward the water. She flails around and he splashes as he hits the water, but he doesn’t stop until he’s chest deep. He shifts, adjusting her from over his shoulder, and cradles her into his arms. Scowling, I clench the laptop in my hands so tight my knuckles go white.
I have to walk away to compose myself for a few minutes before coming back to shut the damn laptop off. I should have just let it play, because what I see hits me like a kick to the chest when I return. They’re coming out of the water, holding hands, and she’s smiling.
chapter thirty-six
Kate
It’s day three post Cooper Montgomery and, while the world didn’t end, there’s a little piece of me missing. I’ve been doing better, smiling when it’s appropriate, interacting with people—well, the staff and Flynn at least—and taking every available opportunity to leave the guest house.
We may have only been here for five days, but there’s a memory at every turn. At night, after everyone goes to bed, I lay in the yellow room, replaying the last couple of months with Cooper over and over. Hindsight is supposed to be twenty-twenty. Yet I see nothing clearer as I look back than I did when it was happening in front of my eyes. Perhaps if I had seen it coming, it wouldn’t cut this deep.
Yes, I was “dating” another man. The word hypocrite may even seem appropriate from the outside looking in. But we both knew what I was doing … and why I was doing it. We’d even made promises to each other—rules we would follow until the show ended. No kissing on the mouth, no sex with anyone but each other … he’d been the one to make the damn rules.
I believed him. I trusted him. Three days of looking for the clues I missed, has left me nothing but exhausted and clueless. Why now, when I look back, can’t I see it coming? The only logical answer crushes me—I can’t see the change because he never really felt what I thought he felt to begin with. I was seeing what I wanted to see all along.