“Mind getting me a drink too, babe? Looks like we’re about to have sharing time.”
“As if the night couldn’t get any worse,” I muttered and downed my drink in one gulp.
CHAPTER 18
ASPEN
Idid something I’d never done before.
I ran.
And not just from the club, but from him, our agreement, work, home.
Home.
I laughed at the word as I stood outside the apartment door, frozen and struggling to find the will to go inside and hide. His apartment wasn’t my home. In the end, I squared my shoulders, shoved some of my belongings into a bag, sent an email to work letting them know I was taking a vacation, sent a message to my dad so he wouldn’t worry, and ran.
I ended up at the airport, taking the first flight I could find.
Which was how I found myself in New Orleans, checked into a suite in the French Quarter, unsure of where I went from there. I settled on wrapping myself in a fluffy robe and begging for sleep so I wouldn’t have to think anymore, saving any further decision-making for tomorrow.
Day one
I ordered an obscene number of items from the room service menu, earning me a concerned look from Otto, the hotel staff member kind enough to keep his judgment to himself. I then spent the rest of the day in bed, crying while binge-watchingFriends.
Lucian didn’t call, but he did send a message.
Call me.
Day two.
I ordered a more reasonable number of items from room service for breakfast and lunch, managed to keep my crying to only in the shower, and forced myself to go down to the bar for a liquid dinner.
Lucian called, but I didn’t answer.
Day three.
I ordered a parfait and a croissant for breakfast, had a conversation with Otto about his twelve grandchildren, went for a run around the city, and ended up having dinner at a vampire bar where I drank my alcohol from a blood bag.
It was the first day I didn’t cry.
Lucian called again, but I still didn’t answer. He followed it up with another message.
Call me.
Day four.
I woke up determined and grabbed a banana for breakfast on my way out of the hotel with a wave to Otto. When I went for my run, I took notes about where I wanted to stop after I went backfor a shower. I had red beans and rice for lunch and wine for dinner, which led to a mostly empty karaoke bar and tequila for dessert.
Turned out I was a horrible singer. Something I hadn’t known because I’d never taken the time to try.
The realization took me back to the argument with my father when he sold part of the company to Lucian.
“Your mother wanted you not to pigeonhole yourself into one thing without experiencing life and everything it has to offer you.”
“You have so much more to give in your life.”
I’d been too angry to hear his words—too stubborn.
