“That was the first time Collinsworth has ever done anything like that,” I say through clenched teeth, willing my tears away, begging the anger to take over again. “He’s persistent as fuck, and he’s cornered me before but he’s never trapped me like that. So there’s yourtalk,and if you want anything more, maybe you can start pulling up the floorboards to snoop through my journals. You know, since you liked going through my mail and backpack so fucking much.”
I spin toward my nightstand and grab my phone and cigarettes, tying my kimono tighter before I flip Mark the bird and run down the stairs. “Why don’t you start on that now, that way you won’t follow me outside!”
Making a beeline for the French doors, I blow through the living room, covering my mouth until I’m on the balcony when the first sob breaks free.
Markus Favre did love me once, I saw that clear as day, but if he still loves me now he might hate me a little more because he clearly doesn’t think we have a chance.
Or he doesn’t want one.
The look he gave me, his eyes, they said it all.
I swipe at the tears rolling down my cheeks as I slam the door closed, all but collapsing onto the stone bench out of view. I quickly pull a cigarette from my pack with trembling fingers, struggling to light it until the third try. Inhaling deeply, Iattempt to calm myself down, looking out to the setting sun, the sky pink around the edges of the starless black.
Why does this hurt so much?
I didn’t know how any of them felt, not for sure, and I should be happy that I have the relationships I do with my amazing men. All four of them, even if they aren’t all how I hoped they’d be.
It’s not right.
That’s why it hurts so badly.
It’s not right only being with three of them when I know in my bones, all four of those men are my soulmates. They are everything I never allowed myself to want, they are exactly what I need, and all five of us together is what makes sense.
Fate might be a bitch but she gave me a chance at a future full of the things I never had. Markus is just as much a part of my destiny as Lucky, Pete and Norman are, and I’m never going to be whole until he knows it.
I lean back against the brick with a sigh, a few more tears sliding down my cheeks.
My ignorance, my denial, whatever it was that kept me oblivious, I waited too long, and pushed too hard.
And I keep fucking pushing,
I owe it to all of them to talk about everything, to put it all out there. My trauma is as much theirs, and if they’re willing to carry my baggage with me, why keep fighting it?
They deserve the truth, the entire story, and they deserve to be able to tell me theirs as well.
That’s what I need to do, what I have to do in order to make everything right but for some fucking reason I can’t. And it most likely cost me Markus, and it’ll probably do the same with the others.
I can’t live that way again.
I take a deep breath as I stab my smoke out next to me, my eyes drifting to the still busy street below.
Only to land on that damn Lambo.
“What the fuck?” I whisper, leaning forward, my nose scrunching in confusion.
Lucky said Franc did a search to see if anyone in my neighborhood drove a car like that and when nothing turned up, he did a wider search. Apparently there are only three people in the entire state of Louisiana who currently own anything like that fancy piece of shit, and none of them are on our side of the state.
Yet, there it is, the Lamborghini Veneno sitting on my street, right in front of my building. For at least the fourth time in the last seven or eight months.
I grab my phone in hopes of getting a picture or maybe even catching the license plate but when I tap the screen, it stays black. Because I’m a dumbass and never charge my phone so it’s still dead.
Ugh.
Setting my phone on top of my smokes, I slide toward the end of the bench and try to see the back end of the car without drawing any attention to myself. I can’t see it from here though, my balconies are wide and the one out front is set pretty far from the opposite side of the street. So, I get down on my hands and knees then crawl toward the iron railing, searching for a place that isn’t dripping with ivy or lined with potted plants.
Norm has a green thumb and says taking care of all the vegetation is good for me. I won’t say it to him but I agree, mainly because it’s been great for privacy during balcony sex.
Unfortunately, I can’t say the same when it comes to peeping on a car that may or may not belong to my new stalker.
