My stomach rolls as the temperature in the room plummets, the atmosphere changing in an instant.
“You need to go.” He sucks in a breath. “And you need to forget about what just happened.”
“Are you serious?” I splutter.
I grip my clothes tighter against me and try to breathe. Try to process what he’s doing right now. I’m naked in his bedroom. My body is still warm from where he was inside it moments ago.
He glances to the side, toward his bedroom door, his face cast in shadows. But I see the rigid planes of his grimace. The tightening of his jaw.
“Molly will get confused if she wakes up again and you’re still here this late.”
He’s just concerned about Molly. Of course he is. It would be weird for her to see me in here like this.
“It’s okay. I understand. I’ll get dressed.”
I feel his eyes on me as I pull my panties and bra back on.
“I’m sorry. Tonight was… it was a mistake,” he tries to say it softly, but the edge is still there. Sharp jagged edges that slice into me like razor blades.
Regret.
“Wow…” I breathe. “It’s like that… I get it.”
“Tate.”
“It’s fine. I get it. This was a fuck. Nothing more. Shame you didn’t make that clearer before we did it.” I seethe.
I rush to pull my dress on and zip it up. My face burns with humiliation. If I’d known that’s what this was to him, I’d have never…
Tears threaten my eyes, and I blink as fast as I can praying I can hold them back long enough to get away from him.
“Don’t make this more awkward than it needs to be,” he warns.
“Awkward?” I scoff. “God, you’re so full of yourself.”
I push past him and tear out of the door.
He spins to stride after me.
“Watch the vase!” he snaps, panic mixing with something else in his tone as I enter the living area.
But he needn’t worry about his precious floors getting scratched by me stepping the broken shards into them. I’m not like him. I don’t damage things for the sake of it. For my own perverse pleasure.
I sidestep the mess and reach down, swiping up my purse and shoes from where I left them.
“Tate?”
I turn. He’s stopped at the end of the hallway on the other side of the living area, not even bothering to try and catch up to me.
I pull my shoes on. The two of us stare at each other across the room, broken white china strewn like shrapnel between our feet.
The aftermath of destruction.
Irreparable.
“What?” I snap.
I fight to keep my voice steady, so it doesn’t betray my emotions. Doesn’t show the way that humiliation and shame are coursing through me, telling me what an idiot I am.
