That’s when she caught sight of their suitcases sitting by the door.
Yesterday when they got in to their private suite, she’d unpacked both their bags—toiletries in the bathroom, fetwear laid out on the matching chairs in the small seating area. She hadn’t unpacked everything, instead putting their packing cubes still full and zipped into drawers before stashing the suitcases in the closet.
But now the suitcases were by the door, and she had a sinking surety that everything she’d unpacked had been repacked.
Cessie squeezed her eyes closed as her throat tightened with tears. Surely, she’d cried enough last night that there were no more tears left in her.
Except the scene had broken her control, her walls. She was vulnerable, and she didn’t think she could stop the tears.
She rolled away, slipping off her side of the bed, and without a word, disappeared into the bathroom.
What she found there confirmed what the packed bags had said. Her toiletries were missing except for her toothbrush. There was an outfit waiting for her—a soft cotton tank dress she liked to wear around the house on weekends. A pair of sandals were waiting under the vanity.
He’d left out a toothbrush and clothes but packed up all the rest of their stuff for them to leave.
Cessie let her face crumple in silent tears, turning on the water just in case a sound escaped. She forced herself to brush her teeth and wash her face. Then she wet a washcloth andcleaned herself up—a shower sounded lovely, but now she just wanted to leave. To be anywhere but here.
She stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was loose around her shoulders—it was never loose. She always wore it in a bun at work, and normally braided it at night so it wouldn’t tangle. She looked wild and free. Except for her eyes, which were red from holding back tears.
Filling her palm with cold water, she bent over the sink, pressing the cold liquid to each eye in turn. The shock of it helped ground her.
She couldn’t stay in this bathroom forever.
She finger-combed her hair until it lost the well-fucked look, then pulled it into a loose braid. She didn’t have a hair tie, but there was one in her purse, so having it in a braid that would slowly unravel would have to do.
Leon had forgotten to leave out a bra or panties, but she had no intention of walking out there naked, so she pulled on the dress, hissing as the fabric slid against her tender nipples. As ready as she could be, Cessie stepped out of the bathroom, dressed and shoes on.
Leon was also dressed, in loose sweats and a black t-shirt that hugged his biceps. His feet were bare, and he was sitting in an armchair, once more reading his book.
He looked up as she walked out.
“I’m ready to go.”
He carefully closed the book and set it aside. “Go where?”
“Leon, I’m not in the mood. You packed all our shit while I was asleep, so clearly we’re leaving.”
“Aren’t you going to ask why I packed?”
“You want to play games?” Cessie’s lip curled in anger and disgust. Both emotions were easier to deal with than hurt and resigned sadness.
“You saw the suitcases, got out of bed, and didn’t say anything to me.”
“The same way you didn’t say anything before you packed?”
“For fuck’s sake, Cessie,talk to me.”
“This is me talking to you. Let’s go. If we’re leaving, I want to leave now before—” She cut herself off.
“Before what?” He rose slowly, the dark look in his eyes almost threatening. “Before you let yourself feel something? Before you make the mistake of actually having a conversation with me rather than walling yourself up and making sure you’re so busy and tired every minute of every day that we barely talk?”
Cessie wanted to slap him. She’d never wanted to hurt another person before until that moment.
“That’s right, baby. You’re pissed, aren’t you? Tell me. Show me.”
But Cessie didn’t move. She was trapped in her own thoughts, her body held in stasis.
The dark look faded from Leon’s face. His expression softened to disappointment. “But you can’t, can you? You won’t even ask me why I packed up our stuff because you don’t trust me.”
