Stay.
Surely, he didn’t mean until morning. But…
I want you to stay.
No.
No, I need to do this. I need to get out of here and save us both from the awkward morning after. The polite smiles and the awkward glances. Or worse, the irritation in his voice when he wakes to find the random woman he pulled in off the street is still there.
Tonight was perfect. I don’t need to ruin it by overstaying my welcome.
I jot down the only words I can think of and bolt for the door. I want to look back, but I don’t.
I can’t.
Because I know if I look back, I’ll do what he asked and stay.
SIX
Eric
? Again - Lenny Kravitz ?
The bed is cool beside me, but the scent of Ty still lingers on the sheets—a mix of something sweet and something I can’t quite place but already know I will crave for the rest of my life. Eyes still heavy with sleep, I reach over, expecting to find the curve of her waist, the heat of her skin against my palm. Instead, my fingers are met with emptiness.
My brow furrows as I blink myself fully awake and roll onto my back, my heart already sinking in my chest. Maybe she’s just shifted to the other side. Maybe she’s in the bathroom. But deep down, there’s a quiet, unshakable knowing.I finally turn my head and realize that the bed next to me is indeed empty.
I sit up.
“Ty?” I call, my voice still deep and rough from sleep.
Silence answers.
I take a second to survey the room and realize that her clothes are gone and my heart sinks.
No.
“Ty!” I call again, pushing the covers aside and crossing the room. I slide my boxer briefs back on before I step out into the living area and sigh when it registers that it, along with the kitchen, are empty. “Fuck.” I rub my hands down my face.
Why would she leave? Granted, it’s been a long damn time since I’ve done what I did last night, but from what I can remember, they never leave. Not on their own accord. I’m usually all but shoving them out of my room in the morning. Or worse, I’m the one already gone when they wake. Already on the RV and headed to the next stop. Whoever I left behind already long forgotten.
Doesn’t it figure that the one time I want a woman to still be here in the morning, she’s gone. Vanished into thin air like a ghost. I look back toward the bed and have to physically shake the mental images of last night from my head. The way she looked under me, on top of me, in front of me.
A piece of paper on the desk near the door catches my eye, and I dart across the room to snatch it up. Hoping,beggingwhatever all-seeing, all-knowing being exists out there that it saysWent for coffeeor that she left her number. Or her name.
Fuck, I’m freaking out over this woman, and I don’t even know her goddamnname.
I pick up the piece of hotel stationary and read it once. Twice. Three times before the words register.
Your Majesty,
Figured I’d save us both the embarrassment of you politely and awkwardlythanking me (again) for an “unforgettable evening” and shoving me out the door.
So, thanks for an unforgettable evening.
-Ty
The finality of her words sting. It’s the kind of note you leave when you don’t want to be a hassle, when you don’t want to be missed. No lingering promises. No “call me.” Just a clean, neat exit.
