Clean exit. No drama. No confusion.
This is how you survive when the gold-plated world rots underneath.
Trust? A fantasy.
Faith?A fucking fairy tale.
Girls like Bix don’t stumble into your life. They find the cracks in your armor. Then they smile as they widen them with both hands.
I step into the elevator, slam the lobby button with my fist, and watch the doors slide closed.No more mistakes.
CHAPTER 13
BIX
It takes me a few moments to remember I’m in Sam’s apartment when the morning sun nudges me awake again.
This time, my head throbs. There’s a water bottle by the bed. A sweet gesture.
I drain it, listening for sounds of coffee brewing, movement, anything. “Sam?” My voice sounds small in the massive room. “You here?”
Nothing.
I slide out of bed, finding pieces of last night scattered around.
Panties here, bra there, my white dress draped awkwardly over a chair. But no note. No Sam.
My red diary sits open on his sleek white desk.Did I leave it like that?Something feels off, but my hung-over brain can’t process it. I stuff it in my purse.
Once I’m dressed, I pause at the door Sam entered to take the call last night. “Sam?” I say as I knock.
No answer.
I turn and head down the hallway to the living room. Theelevator button marked L seems obvious enough. But my fingers shake slightly as I press it.
Seventy floors is a long way down when your heart feels heavy.
The new concierge isn’t the friendly face from last night.
This one’s younger, sharper, probably wondering why I’m wearing a nightclub dress at 8 AM.
“Hi.” I try to sound confident. “I’m Sam’s guest.”
He nods, perfectly professional. Too professional.
“Did he leave any message for me?”
“I’m sorry, he didn’t, miss.”
Of course not. “If you see him, tell him I said goodbye?”
“Will do.” His eyes follow me across the marble lobby.
Or maybe that’s just my imagination, my cheeks burning with the squeaky sound of my Converse sneakers against the floor.
The morning air hits me like reality.
Last night feels dreamlike now—the wine, the kisses, his hands in my hair. The way he stopped when he realized...God, what must he think of me?
