“Stuff what—”
“Oh, please.” Oh. Oh, wow. Okay, that’s out. This is happening. “You just stop it. Now. Because you’re lying, and I’m tired of liars.”
“I’m not lying about—”
“You’re lying that what we did meant nothing,” I tell him.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You said it was a mistake.”
“We shouldn’t have let things—”
“It wasnota mistake.” My finger’s jabbing the air. “None of it. It was good—no, it was great—and you’re lying to yourself if you think—”
“You’re a perfect sub, Rae. It’s just—”
“Are you kidding me? You are being so unserious right now. I am… I’m…” Beyond livid.Burningwith the rage. “Can’t you see that the only thing driving you is fear? After all that talk about me choosing myself, this is what you do? Well, guess what? I’mchoosing. And it’s what I want. You. Me. Us. I am choosing me. You, Grant. You, sir. Sex and kink and love, they don’t have to be mutually exclusive. Not everything in life is so neatly compartmentalized as you’d like to think it is.”
“I can find you another Dom. You deserve someone who can—”
I step back, my eyes wide, a fresh wave of shock running through me. “A new Dom? You think that’s what I’m after?”
I can see the lie trying to form in his mind—and the resistance to it. Because no matter what he might think, Grant Bowman is actually human after all. Before he can get a chance to say more, I shake my head, grab my coat and my bags, and look at him, so angry now that the hurt’s taken a supporting role.
“You lie to yourself all you want, big guy. Sure. I can find another Dom. But we both know this isn’t about that. It never was. Maybe one day you’ll grow up, face your fears, and figure that out for yourself.”
I swoosh out the door, almost trip on my own coat, and finally gather my things back to my chest with all the dignity I have. Then I take off into the night.
I don’t let myself cry until I get home.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Rae
IT’SFRIDAY NIGHT, ANDI feel like doing nothing.
I sit down in front of my massive, elaborate book nook, grab my tweezers and glue, and wait for the bad feelings to subside the way they always do when I get working.
It doesn’t. I can’t.
It’s not doing the trick.
I stare at my hands. There’s no hiding anymore or distracting myself from the mess I’ve made of my life. Especially not when everything about this damn model reminds me of Grant. The little library nook I’ve added with its jacquard-painted wall and the bench I made after our lunch excursion to the club.
I sink back in my chair, eyes shut hard against the feelings trying to swamp me—again.
Pretty sure I’ve saidnomore times in the last two days since the retreat than I have the entire time I’ve worked for Sugar. It felt really good until it occurred to me that I’m not actually that into HR. I’m tired of being here for people. Tired. Just tired. Then there’s Samantha, who finally reached out and explained that she and her mystery man gamed on her computer. That’s why she brought it home with her.
She’s still fired, though. It was a rule she ignored, and I get it.
The guy has since completely ghosted her. Jackass.
I drop my forehead on my folded arms. I’m wallowing. I know that. But I can’t seem to find the silver lining, the flip side, the tiny spark of hope that’s always kept me going. It’s not there.
My phone chirps. I ignore it. It goes again. Again. God, can’t anyone leave me alone?
I pick it up and read.
