Lexie tilted her head to the side and grinned. “Thank you so much for your help,” she said with fake cheerfulness, then turned on a booted heel and strode away.
The reception area on the third floor was similar to that downstairs but on a much smaller scale. Lexie reached the counter and repeated her spiel.
“Give me just a second, hun, and I’ll ring his room for you. What did you say your name was again?”
“Lexie Monroe.”
The woman—Denise—picked up the phone and dialed, smiling at Lexie while she waited for someone on the other end to pick up.
“Good morning, Mr. Frambough,” she said when Mitch picked up. “You have a visitor.”
Mitch said something, and Denise responded with, “Well, don’t you want to know who it is first? She could be a bad person.”
Again, Mitch spoke.
“Yes,she,” Denise replied. “She said her name is Lexie Monroe.”
Mitch’s voice rose through the receiver as he started talking a mile a minute, though Lexie couldn’t understand a word of it.
Even Denise looked shocked by the outburst, but a moment later said, “Okay. Yes, I understand.”
Denise hung up the phone and shot Lexie a pitying look. “I’m sorry, dear,” she said. “It appears he doesn’t want to see you.”
Lexie's cheeks flamed instantly, but she stood there staring dumbly at the woman, processing what she’d just said.
It appears he doesn’t want to see you.
He. Doesn’t. Want. To. See. You.
That fucking bastard.
“Oh,” Lexie said quietly. “Okay, no problem. Thank you for your time.”
And then she turned, and she ran, bypassing the elevator completely and speeding down the three flights of stairs two at a time, dangerously careening around the sharp corners, before bursting out on the main floor and sprinting into the cool December air.
She slowed to a walk when she reached the parking lot but still arrived at her car quickly and shoved herself behind the wheel moments before the dam broke.
After all this time, she knew she shouldn’t be crying over Mitch. Truthfully, she hadn’t even known she still could. She thought she’d got all the tears out in those early days, before she started drinking and sleeping her way over him.
After everything he’d put her through, leaving the way he did, making her love him only to take that away from her. Pushing her into a relationship that she told him from the very beginning she didn’t want. She wanted to strangle him for then, after all that, having the gall to sayhedidn’t want to seeher.
It should’ve been the other way around.
Coming here had been a mistake, and as her tears of embarrassment slowed and finally stopped, anger bubbled under the surface of her skin.
Anger at Mitch. Anger at the game of hockey and the city of Detroit. Anger at Brent and Berkley and Cole and Amelia and everyone else who thought it was a good idea to come here today.
But mostly?
Anger at herself.
For letting things get so bad when she had learned long ago never to trust anyone with her heart.
When she knew damn well, all anyone ever did was break it.
Twenty Months Ago...
Mitchwokeupjustas the sky began its shift from black to grey, blinking slowly, trying to figure out what pulled him from his slumber. And then he hears it: soft humming floating through his condo. The only people with the code to the door were his mom, the cleaning lady, and Lexie, and he knows without a doubt that neither his mom nor the cleaning lady would be here this early.
