With a Twist (Last Call #4)(55)

As I crawled toward him …  put my hand on his knee to ease my way in between his legs, he had a look of such sorrow on his face that I saw the real man behind the facade. I knew that he was also sacrificing a part of his soul to see this mission through, just as I was. No one that was involved in this entire scheme would ever know the immoral stains that Wyatt and I would need to scrub off us when this was finished. It gave us a common experience that no one would ever share or understand.

It is amazing to me that we've yet to talk about that, but I think that has more to do with the fact that we have been immersed in a fog of lust since I arrived. I do think we should probably talk about everything that went down, if only for each of us to have an outlet.

I head directly into Wyatt's bathroom that is part of the master suite. It's small with only a corner shower, small sink, and toilet, but I expect a bachelor doesn't really need much else. Wetting a washcloth, I wipe the rest of the syrup off my chest, although I have to admit, Wyatt did a good job of licking most of it away.

After rinsing the cloth out, I hang it up and give my teeth a quick brush. Quick swish of mouthwash and I'm ready to get dressed to go out to breakfast.

I pad back into the bedroom and kneel down on his carpeted floor where my suitcase is lying. I rifle through, grabbing panties and a bra, and a pair of jean shorts and a tank top. One thing I've learned since coming to the Outer Banks is that casual is the mode of dress around here.

Before I can stand to put my clothes on, I hear a "ding" on my phone, which is charging on the dresser right next to me. I reach up, disconnect it from the cord, and see a text from Kyle.

Just checking in. Hope you're having a good time on vacation.

My smile burns bright over his thoughtfulness. I should have taken some time and gone out to visit him, and I feel slightly guilty choosing Wyatt over Kyle. But I think he'd understand.

Oh, not that I'm having hot and wild sex with my undercover partner, but that I'm happy and having fun, and mostly …  that I'm not pining over David.

I quickly text him back. Having a great time. Call you later.

Before putting my phone back and getting dressed, I do a quick check of my email and don't see anything important. I switch over to my Facebook app and give a quick perusal. I don't post a lot of personal stuff on my wall, but that's only because I sadly don't have a lot of personal stuff to share. My life had been filled with nothing but my career and David. My FBI work was private so I couldn't post about that, and David wasn't on Facebook. I used it mainly to keep in contact with old high school and college friends but sometimes, I'll go weeks without getting on.



       
         
       
        

In fact, I haven't been on since before I left for Raleigh to go undercover.

When the app opens, the first thing I notice is several notifications at the bottom and one friend request. Ignoring the notifications, I click on the "Requests" icon. My jaw drops when I see who is asking to be friends with me.

David Lovitt …  my ex-fiancé.

What in the hell?

I have no clue when he sent this friend request, and I'm absolutely perplexed as to why he would bother to want to be friends with me as our break up was not pretty.

There was lots of crying and pleading on my part-which sort of shames me now-and a lot of hurtful words on his part.

"I don't understand where this is coming from, David?" I had said with tears pooling in my eyes. He had just broken my heart by telling me that he wanted to call the engagement off.

"Seriously, Andrea?" he had sneered. "I told you I am not moving from Pittsburgh. You refuse to pull your application. A husband and wife can't live in different states, so there's no fucking reason to stay engaged. I'm sure as hell not marrying someone that can't respect my decision on that."

"But I might not even get accepted," I pointed out as I wiped the back of my hand over my eyes. "Everything could just stay the same, and you're willing to throw everything away over the possibility I might have to move?"

David sneered at me. "It's more than that. It's the fact you're choosing your career over me. I don't want to be with someone like that."

"David, please-" I had implored, but he cut me off.

"Just forget it," he said and turned toward my door. "We're done unless you pull that application. And even if you did …  I'm not even sure we can fix this."

He left me standing there. Only after the door closed behind him did I let the tears really flow.

I could have pulled my application. Those first few days I was so lonely …  so desperate to have his love back …  I came very close to doing just what he wanted. But I never could seem to actually make myself do it. Instead, I kept hoping he'd come to his senses. I called him …  sent him texts …  a few emails. He never responded, and I eventually gave up.