Steeling myself, I reluctantly open my father’s message next.
Father figure (Dad)
Can you please call me or your mother? I recently heard concerning news from Braden.
He said that you have been acting oddly, and he’s worried about you.
Oh, goodie. It’s not bad enough that Braden won’t accept our breakup; now he’s stirring up more shit with my parents. Just what I need. Well, that won’t be happening. I couldn’t care less about this fabricated, concerning news. Delete message.
And speaking of the devil himself. I feel my pulse kick up as I open his text.
My Biggest Mistake (Braden)
I need your help.
Please, Becky.
You know I love you.
I swear this is the last time.
I promise I won’t ask again.
You owe me, Beck!
Answer my messages!
I’m contemplating whether I should respond when I hear a firm knock at the door and a man calls, “Room service.”
Saved by the knock. I don’t need to respond to Braden. Despite what he says, I know I don’t owe him anything.
Thirteen
Grabbing the key card from a much friendlier concierge, I take the stairs two at a time to reach the fourth floor. Yes, I could’ve used the elevator, but I need to burn off this anxious energy.
Upon entering the room, I find Beck’s overnight bag right where she said it would be. It’s lying open with the contents scattered around and spilling out on top of the table. I shouldn’t have expected anything different. Scooping up her things, I resist the urge to fold and neatly place them back inside the bag as they should be. Instead, I shove them in, dropping a couple of items on the floor in the process. Bending to grab what fell, I collect a sheer forest-green bra with tiny pink rose details and a matching thong. This is a visual I did not need this morning. I swear the world is conspiring against me.
After Beck fell asleep last night, I lay still beside her, watching her in the moonlight. The soft rise and fall of her chest, how her thick black lashes fanned across her cheeks. I memorized the designs and bold colours of her tattoos across her shoulders and arms. I thought about how it had felt to hold her on the dance floor. How our casual touches felt natural and familiar. I never moved away when she sought me out in hersleep. Finally, in the early-morning hours, I drifted off to sleep with her snuggled into my side. I’m not sure why I had such an extreme reaction when I woke up. I knew where I was and who was beside me. Let’s blame it on my rock-hard cock pressed between her ass cheeks.Fuck me.
Slipping her undergarments into the bottom of her bag, trying not to imagine her wearing them later, I zip it up and grab her leather jacket. Looking around the room, I don’t see anything else. April has already been by to pick up her things.
Vaughan and I need to talk about last night. I don’t know what April thinks is going on between us, but Beck and I are just friends. That’s all we’ll ever be. It has to be.
When I enter my room, the first thing I see is Beck sitting in a chair at the small table. One foot is on the seat, and the other is swinging back and forth. My shirt has gathered around her waist, and her underwear is on full display. Where is that fucking robe? She’s trying to kill me.
“Breakfast is here,” she says, smiling as she gestures to the heaps of food on the table, as she nibbles on a croissant.
“I see that.” Placing her bag on the bed, I sit across from her.
“Here, I think you need this,” she says, sliding me a cup of black coffee. “You didn’t growl at the person at the front desk, did you? I’m used to your early-morning surliness, but there’s no reason anyone else should have to deal with it.”
“No growling, I promise.” I quirk a small smile and accept the cup.
“I see you ordered way more than two people could possibly eat for breakfast.” Fresh fruit salads, scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage, as well as a variety of pastries cover the small space. “It looks like we are at an all-you-can-eat buffet.”
“I may have overdone it a little. Besides cupcakes, I wasn’t sure what you eat for breakfast.”
“I don’t know what your aversion to cupcakes is. How is eating a cupcake for breakfast any different from eating something like French toast or pancakes with maple syrup? Or even that Danish.” She points towards the table as her voice begins to rise. “Don’t you dare judge me for what I like.”
