My phone chimes in my hand and I look down at the notifications as they pop up on my screen, one telling me my ride has just pulled up at the gates. I specifically told the driver not to drive through them, and that I’ll make my way to him.
I stand up from the edge of the bed—that now has a permanent ass print etched into the memory foam mattress—and slide the strap of my bag onto my shoulder, before lifting the suitcase with my other hand. They’re arguing so much I don’t want to draw any further attention to myself by dragging my suitcase along the floor by its wheels.
So as carefully as I can, I make my way downstairs in silence, their raised voices and my mother’s vile insults towards me only echoing louder the closer I get to the front door.
This was going to end at some point, Robyn, you know that.
But what if—
No.
Shaking those thoughts away and as cautiously as I can, I slowly twist the handle of the front door and walk out into the cold Denver air, closing it behind me. I stand the suitcase upright and yank the extractable handle up and drag it behind me as I walk down the pathway towards the wrought iron gates I came through four days ago.
I smile at the driver as he gets out the car and waves in my direction, but the sound of the front door opening and closing behind me gives me pause.
“Robyn, wait!” Jack calls, but I choose to ignore him. This is the only way. I can’t stay here, I can’t make him choose me. I won’t. “I said stop!”
And I do.
I almost stumble over my feet at the speed in which his voice carries the order. Closing my eyes, I take the deepest of breaths to steady my heavily beating heart and open my eyes to stare up at him just as he comes to stand in front of me. Praying silently I can hold my emotions in.
“What are you doing?” The space between his eyebrows creases.
“Leaving. Isn’t it obvious?” I smirk.
“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head. “Don’t brush this” —he dances his hand back and forth between us— “off like it means nothing.” Stepping closer to me he cups my face in his warm hands. “St—”
Rising up on my tiptoes, I press my lips to his and cut him off half way through the word I know he’s going to ask of me. “I can’t, you know that. We both do. You… have a lot to deal with right now.” He knows I’m right, that’s why he doesn’t say anything to counter my previous statement.
I kiss him again as a final goodbye. The tip of his tongue slides along the seam of my lips and I gladly open up for him, swirling my tongue with his in a kiss far more heated than the one from last night.
Telling him in the only way I know how that I wish I could, that I do feel the same, but that right now… it can’t happen. Jack has far too much going on, and him dealing with his marriage to my mother is more important than me leaving. Him getting his life in order is the main priority, regardless of how we feel about each other.
The kiss is passionate, feral. Our lips saying all the things neither of us have the confidence to say right now, and when I pull back to end it, he drops his hands from my face defeatedly, standing up straight and placing his hands in the pockets of his black trousers.
“Where will you go?”
I look up at him with a soft smile. “LA. My friend lives there. I managed to book a last-minute flight while you were…” I shrug, cutting myself off. “So I guess I’ll stay with her for a few days. Then head back to London.” He nods, and I can see the conflict in his eyes as silence falls between us.
“Bye, Jack.”
“Goodbye, Robyn.”
I walk around him and continue making my way to the taxi, refusing to look back. It’s only when I get in the car and the driver pulls away from the gates, that I allow the first tear to fall.
“Ihave to admit, kiddo, I like the new place.” My father nods, smiling as he looks around the living room of my new house in London’s West End. “Maybe I should get into spicy content.” He shrugs, looking over his shoulder at me and smiling. “You think there’s any women out there interested in a fifty-something?”
“I’d rather not think about my father doing—” I full body shiver “—if it’s all the same to you.” And my father barks out a laugh that resonates around the empty room.
Since travelling back from America, my views have skyrocketed to the point I was able to buy this house outright, as well as quit my nine-to-five, and work for myself. And it’s not just spicy content either, my social media presence has taken off and the amount of brand deals I have with retail companies who specialise in sex toys and lingerie… is insane.
Who’d have thought I would garner a modelling contract for that one live all those months ago with Jack.
Jack.
I haven’t heard from him since I left, and to be honest, it’s a good thing. Both of us have kept up our end of the promise and thankfully—even though I miss him—I think about him less and less every day.
“Have you heard from the one who’s only five years younger than your father?” my dad asks, turning around to face me.
