Jesus, I’m not sure what that is, but I don’t want her freaking out so I press her contact so I can put her out of her misery. She answers on the first ring.
“We don’t have an emergency response protocol, Wrin,” I spit out with a chuckle before she can bombard me with questions. “After the night I had though, maybe we should.”
“Oh. My. God. My heart is beating out of my chest right now. I think I’m dying.” I can hear her breathing pick up through the phone. She’s so extra.
“Wrinley,” I stop her, and just as I feel my emotions start to well up again, she switches to video.
“Babe, what’s wrong?”
I spend the next hour telling her everything, from Brad drugging me to Ryker picking me up and bringing me to his place for safe keeping. We cried, then laughed and then we cried some more.
“I’m sorry I pushed you to go out with that ass hat, Ari.”
“I appreciate it, but this isn’t on you. The only one responsible for his actions is him.“ Logically, I know I’m right, but I’m alsopissed at myself. The unsolicited drink choosing should have tipped me off.
“I can’t believe you're at your mom’s ex’s place,” she changes the subject. “Is he still hot?”
“He’s–not hard on the eyes,” I laugh, grateful for the shift in the mood. “But I’mnottalking aboutthatwith him in the other room.”
“Oh, come on,” she whines. “I need details.”
“Okay, I love you, but my head is still weird and I’m tired. I need to shower and then take a nap.” If I don’t cut her off now, she’ll keep pushing and I’m not in the mood right now.
She lets out a long huff, clearlynotwanting to drop her line of questioning. “Fine. But we’ll be revisiting this another time.”
We say our goodbyes and I let my hair out of its messy bun, running my fingers through the knots before grabbing the hoodie and sweats Ryker left for me.You’ve got this. Everything is fine and we’ll figure it out.
Internal pep talks for the win.
At least thirty minutes pass, possibly more and I’ve officially taken the hottest and most orgasmic shower of my life. That showerhead and intense water pressure are miraculous.
When I step into his sweatpants, I’m pleasantly surprised to see they do actually fit. Then I pick up his hoodie and shamelessly pull it to my face, inhaling his manly, spicy scent. My nipples peak as I take it in and I pull it over my head in one quick motion right before I really start to feel like a creep. Yeah–he’s not getting this back.
Back in the guest room, it occurs to me I need to call Martin and let him know I won’t be in for a couple nights. Ryker’s place is on the other side of town and I need both time and space to get my shit together. I should call mom too, but if I hear anI told you so, I might throw myself out this penthouse window. It would hurt less. I definitely can’t tell herwhoI’mstaying with. She’s hyper-judgmental on a good day, and while he basically forced me into staying, I wouldn’t throw him under that particular Christine bus. I don’t think I hate anyonethatmuch. Actually, that’s not true. Brad is most definitely on that list.
I dial the restaurant and Martin answers almost immediately.
“Martin, it’s Arabella.”
“Arabella. Is everything okay?” I can appreciate that he knows me well enough to catch a subtle difference in my tone of voice, but I’mnotgetting into details with him and if I say too much, I’ll cry–again. “Please tell me you’re coming in.”
“I’m okay now–I think. I had an emergency last night and need to lay low for a few days. I’d rather not get into details, but I just need a few days off. Please.” I plead.
He’s quiet for a minute before he sighs and responds. “I’m sorry Arabella, but I can’t afford to be without you. If you can’t be here as scheduled, I’m going to have to let you go. I don’t want to, because you’re an amazing worker when you’re here. I know your mom has health issues, but I need someone that I can rely on. I’m sorry.”
Ouch. Don’t hold back on my account. “This isn’t even about my mom. This is personal.”
“Again, I’m sorry, but I’m not changing my mind on this. You’ve got a lot going on,” he sighs. “I was hoping things would get better. If things change, come back. But until then, take care of yourself.” Then he hangs up.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuckity fuck.
What the fuck am I supposed to do now?
I toss my phone on the bed and slam my hands into the comforter in frustration, followed by a full face plant and apoorly muffled scream. I lay face down on the bed for so long, I fall asleep, until a knock at the door startles me awake.
