Novel Square
18
Or why I couldn’t stop it.
It had only been a week.
Such a minuscule amount of time.
How was it possible to feel this way, this ache that wouldn’t leave, this pain that wouldn’t lighten?
Before a tear fell, I took a step back and then another, turning to walk to the door. When I reached the knob, I faced him, the need to see him one last time so overwhelmingly strong.
He hadn’t moved.
Neither did his expression.
The only change was his eyes, the intensity of his gaze, like any second, he was going to pounce.
“Good-bye, Jenner.” My voice wasn’t any louder than a whisper.
Before he said anything, before he made a move that would stop me from leaving, I hurried down the hall, letting his door slam, and rushed inside the elevator.
The minute I hit the button for the top floor, the first tear fell. I wiped it away, knowing plenty more would follow. When the elevator arrived on my floor, I stepped out and rushed to our room, my chin quivering, my nose starting to run.
I heard silence the moment I opened our door.
I went into the master bedroom, the room I’d shared with Monica before staying with Jenner. I found her facedown on the bed, wearing the dress from last night. There were even heels still on her feet.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.
I flipped on the lights and sat on the edge of the bed, shaking her awake. “Mon, you have to get up. We need to go to the airport.”
“Ughhh,” she groaned, covering the side of her face. “I feel like death.”
“I know, but we have to get going.” I left her to grab my suitcase, lifting it onto the bed and opening it. “If we miss our flight, we’ll have to fly standby, and it’ll be a nightmare.”
“I can’t move.”
“But you must.”
I ran to the second bedroom, where Lex and Court were passed out in similar positions. “Ladies, get up!” I flipped on their lights as well, and they stayed still. “Move your butts, or we’re not going to make our flight.”
They moaned a reply I couldn’t understand.
“Fine, suit yourself. You’ll just have to spend the whole day at the airport, hungover and in hell, while you wait for an available flight.”
“Stooop,” Lex cried.
“I hate that she’s right,” Court grunted.
“You have less than thirty minutes, so haul ass.”
I went back into my room and opened the drawers of the dresser, taking out my clothes and dumping them into my suitcase.
“Jo,” Monica said as she sat up, squeezing her temples.
I avoided her eyes, making several more trips between the dresser and my suitcase.
“Jo,” she said again, louder, wincing from her headache. “Look at me.”
I didn’t want to, but I paused and faced her.
“Babe, do you want to talk about it?”
I shouldn’t be surprised. She knew me better than anyone.
I shook my head, slumping on top of the bed. “No. Yes. No.” I wrapped my arms around my stomach. “Fuck.”
“Come here.” She opened her arms, and I fell into her, the scent of booze filling my nose as she hugged me.
I hadn’t realized how badly I needed this.
“I know you’re not all right.”
The tears were back, flowing harder than before. “Not even close.”
“You care about him much more than you realized.”
“Yep. That.” My chest was so constricted; I didn’t know how I could get air in. “I told myself I had to be okay with this. It was a vacation fling, nothing more. I couldn’t have feelings beyond today.” I wiped my nose. “But I do, Mon.” I held the back of her dress, squeezing the material. “I just need the hurt to stop.”
She pulled away. “I wish I weren’t so hungover. I feel like I’d have all the words, but right now, I’m just trying not to throw up.”
“Don’t worry; this isn’t the last time we’re going to talk about him.”
She went to laugh and held her head with both hands. “Maybe we should miss our flight on purpose. What time is he leaving?”
“No.” I shook my head as I thought about her offer. “We said our good-bye, and it has to end sometime.” I took a breath. “Why not now, right?”
“Babe …”
But there was nothing she could say.
Nothing either of us could do.
We were headed back to Miami, Jenner was going to LA, and that was just the reality of our situation.
But I knew one thing for sure.
Feelings that developed in Vegas … didn’t stay in Sin City.
JENNER
“J
enner, it’s Ralph,” my client said as I held the phone to my ear, not two minutes into my Monday.
The leather on my seat was still cold, my coffee untouched.
“Ralph. Good morning.” I cleared my throat, reaching for the mug my assistant had just delivered. I was tempted to start the ticker on my computer to track the length of this call, billing Ralph for the time. The software was so precise that seconds were rounded up to minutes. But Vegas was still running thick in my veins, and I just didn’t have the energy yet. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m interested in building a warehouse, totaling upward to a million square feet. Whatever I don’t use, I’ll subdivide for rental income until I can utilize the whole space.”
I took a sip of the hot, dark drink. “An excellent way to generate revenue. Based on the price per square foot you can get for a rental in both Malibu and Marina del Rey, you’ll more than cover your nut.”
Ralph, a longtime client, was a boat dealer, specializing in yachts, cabin cruisers, and center consoles. Since I was so familiar with his business, I knew the warehouse would store the overflow of his inventory and allow him to expand his service department-something he wanted to do more of.