physically ill .
I gripped my aching stomach, which was
clenched in a ball.
When I picture “the other woman,” I’m
expecting prettier, smarter, better .
I expected all of that—but for some reason I
didn’t expect a freakin’ supermodel! This girl was flawless;
way hotter than my paranoid mind had ever imagined, if you could
believe that!
With long blond hair and pretty green
eyes—oh, and boobs clearly a cup size or two bigger than mine—there
was just no competing with this one.
My hand trembled so bad I couldn’t even keep
the phone still. I went back to the list of texts, figuring I had
to read them quick before I broke down completely. I was so upset
my chest hurt, and my bawling would surely wake him.
He shifted in bed, and I knew I wouldn’t
have time to read them all. I didn’t want him catching me, because
I can’t imagine what he’d think of me.
I went to the text dated the previous
evening—the one that read:
Where are you?
He’d responded:
Switzerland.
I hit the forward keys to read the rest.
Is it cold?
Nah.
I’ve really missed you.
She’d sent the picture. And to that he
wrote,
I think about you all the time.
My throat hurt from the sobs trapped within
it.
I feel so alone.
My chest stung as I read his next text.
You’re not alone. I’m always here for you.
Tears streamed and my face was hot.
And then he wrote,
Can’t wait to see you.
Luke stirred, so I shut off his phone and
returned it to his pocket. I grabbed whatever clothes I could
find—blue jeans and a yellow spaghetti-strap shirt—put them on and
walked out the door.
In the hall, I burst into tears. I didn’t
see him ever hurting me this way; and yet, he had, so easily.
I know I’m ordinary, and I can be goofy with
my blurting crap out and whatnot—but why even waste his time on me?
Just to figure out he can’t wait to see her .
The picture obviously wasn’t recent. I knew
he wasn’t cheating on me, because I’d seen him every day. But it
was so obviously his ex—his stunningly beautiful ex—and he
was so obviously missing her.
I got into the elevator and went down to the
lounge. It was open twenty-four-seven, but hardly anyone was in
there—which was great, because I didn’t want anyone to see how
broken I was.
As I tried to decide which seat to cry in, a
sexy male voice from behind the counter called,
“Adonia? Are you okay?”
I jumped in place when I saw him there.
“ Troy? You work here, too?”
He smiled. “No, I’m just keeping watch for a
friend while she’s getting her dinner.”
“This late?” I said, fiddling with my
fingers. “That’s very nice of you.”
He grinned, crossed his arms on the counter
and leaned toward me as I approached him. “I’m a night owl.”
I nodded. Once again he had that look in his
eyes, and it occurred to me he really was attracted to me.
And I realized that I really, really liked
it.
“You look upset, mademoiselle.”
I looked at my feet for a moment, trying to
compose myself. “I’ve had a long day,” I managed.
He hummed thoughtfully. “I know of a place
with an incredible view. Would you like to go with me?”
“Like, out in the middle of nowhere?”
His eyes locked with mine intently. “You can
call it that.”
I knew going someplace secluded with a guy
I’d just met was a bad idea—it was downright stupid. It should have
raised a red flag. I should have said “no,” excused myself and gone
back to my room. But he was one of Luke’s friends, so he had to be
trustworthy. And he was damn hot to boot. So I said,
“Sure, why not?”
His eyes lit up. “Really?’
I bit my lip. “Is it far?”
He moved for the girl he’d been covering
for, who returned with her food. She whispered “Thanks” and glanced
at me.
“It’s about a fifteen minute walk. I’ll get
my coat, eh?”
I anxiously waited for him, with the
receptionist watching me. I hoped Luke wouldn’t come down and ask
about me; leaving with his best
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
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