Well, shit. That was more than I intended to say. It was the God’s honest truth though. I’d slept with more than my fair share of women, and I wouldn’t knock any of them. Sex was fun and satisfying. But only one time in my life did it ever feel like it could be more than just some fun.
“I can’t do this right now.” Lydia’s round eyes bored into me. She searched my face with a shake of her head. Tears started to well in her eyes. “I can’t—”
I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, resting my lips on the top of her head. “Please believe me. It meant something to me. It still does.” I breathed her in for a moment, lavender and vanilla tickling my nose. “Get some sleep, little wild.”
She nodded as best she could pressed against my chest. “Good night, Seb.”
“Good night, Lydia.”
I let her go and went straight to my bedroom. That woman’s emotions were impossible for me to predict. When I thought we were good, she came at me hot. When I thought we were fighting, she went and started crying.
I pulled in a deep breath. My dick stirred, the scent of her still surrounding me. It was so strong it was like she was in the bed with me. She was all around me, even when she wasn’t even there.
15
Lydia
Twelve Months Ago
The clanking sound of heels on the white tiled floor echoed in the bright space. Graphic pop-art pieces lined the walls in my largest curated gallery yet. The owner, Chloe Goldstein, was chatting animatedly beside me during our final walk-through.
“I can’t believe how amazing everything looks. Thank you, Ms. Wilder. Truly, you have done a marvelous job finding such talented artists and evocative pieces.”
“It’s been my pleasure, Ms. Goldstein.” My phone vibrated in my pocket for the third time in a row. “I’ve had so much fun on this. I know tomorrow will be absolutely amazing.”
“Oh, you’re coming, right? It wouldn’t feel right without you there. And if anyone has any questions, I would feel better having you around to help answer them.”
“Yes, of course. I can’t get this deep into it and not see it to its opening,” I laughed. The vibrating from my pocket stealing my attention for a moment. “Do you mind if Ijust—”
Ms. Goldstein reached out and grabbed my arm, her eyes going wide with fear. “The caterers. I forgot to check in with the caterers. What if they forgot or aren’t prepared?”
“Don’t worry about anything. I’m sure they are well prepared, but if you want, I’ll give them a call now,” I reassured her. I used the excuse to pull my phone out to check my calls and messages. It had been blowing up this entire time that she and I had been reviewing everything.
Eleven missed calls and fifteen texts. All from Blake. My heart dropped, worst-case scenarios playing out. Was he alright? Was he in the hospital or something? Did something happen?
I stepped away from Ms. Goldstein, calling Blake back first. He didn’t answer. Reading through all of the messages didn’t give me any indication as to what to expect. It was just a lot of “call me back” and “you need to answer your phone” type messages. My heart was beating erratically as I tried him again. This time, it went straight to voicemail.
“I’m so sorry,” I said to Ms. Goldstein as I made my way back over to her. “I think there’s been an emergency. My boyfriend’s called me a dozen times, and now he’s not answering. That isn’t like him. I’m afraid something might be wrong.” I rambled all my words together, unloading on poor Ms. Goldstein more than she needed right now. She had enough stress on her own.
“Go, dear. I completely understand. I hope everything is okay,” she said, releasing me from the rest of the walk-through.
“I’m so sorry. I’m not a flake, I promise. If there wasn’t an emergency…”
“Don’t waste time apologizing. Get.” She shooed me away.
I thanked her for understanding and bolted for the door. My apartment was miles away, and I didn’t have the time for the subway. I hailed a taxi as I tried to call Blake back again.
The eight minutes to my block felt like an eternity. All I could picture was Blake, hurt and bleeding, waiting for someone to help him. I flew up the four flights of stairs and unlocked the door as fast as I could.
“Blake,” I called, out of breath and huffing. “Blake.”
He stepped out of the bedroom, perfectly fine. Well, perfectly fine other than the stumbling walk and glassy eyes.
“What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”
“Where were you?” He came toward me, his face contorted in anger.
“I was at work,” I told him calmly. It didn’t do well to get too defensive when he was like this. I had seen that before, once or twice. I had learned how to keep him from getting riled up.
