BROOKS
Fuck.
I didn’t want it to end like that.
I didn’t want it to end, period.
I wanted to keep her in my bed, under my arm all fucking night. The next night too. I scrub a hand down my face as I let the steaming-hot shower wash over me, trying to get my energy up to go to this stupid gala tonight.
I don’t want to go.
Not unless she’s on my arm, lighting up the whole fucking room like she always does.
In a few minutes time, I’m dressed in my tux, and the intercom is buzzing to let me know the car is ready downstairs. My phone buzzes, and I check it immediately, praying it’s from her.
I’ll see you in twenty minutes,Carolyn says.
I roll my eyes.
Fuck.
The elevator doors open into the garage, and Eddie is standing outside the door, waiting for me. I get in, and just as he’s about to put the car in drive, I tap his shoulder.
“We’re making a pitstop,” I tell him.
He raises an eyebrow, but then he just nods.
“Okay, Boss,” he says. “Where to?”
I smile.
“Brooklyn,” I say.
“I’m not trying to talk you out of anything,” he says, “but I feel like I just need to remind you that that is very much not a pitstop and that you will most definitely miss the gala.”
I smile at him through the rearview mirror.
“To Brooklyn,” I tell him again. He nods his head and fights off a smile before pulling out and heading in the right direction. I don’t even give him an address. He knows where I’m going.
The city trafficis on another level tonight, and my knee bounces up and down nonstop for the whole drive. Finally, we’re pulling up in front of her apartment building, and I practically jump out while the car is still moving. I jog up the front steps, timing it right so that I can slip in as someone else is walking out of the building. Then I slip inside and up the four flights of stairs to her door. I pause for a minute to catch my breath, and then I knock. I wait for a minute, then knock again. I hear her come to the door, wait a beat, and reluctantly pull it open. She stares up at me, confusion on her face, her eyes puffy.
“What…what are you?—”
She’s been crying.
“You left before we finished,” I say. She tilts her head, still not inviting me in.
“Before we finished what?” she asks.
“I’m not really a hit-it-and-quit-it kind of guy,” I say. She raises a suspicious eyebrow, and I chuckle. “Okay, I admit that I have been. But not with you. I like to be cuddled after sex.”
I can tell she’s trying not to smile, and I know I’m warming her back up.
“You took off before I could explain that I don’t like to be left alone.”
She looks around me then back to me.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at a gala?”
