Caroline woke up crying. Hell, that was practically her routine now. Try to block out the memories, let them bombard her in her sleep, then wake up in a rush of grief and anger. She had to control herself better. She went over to the window, peering through the curtains into the backyard. It was snowing again.
She peeked at her alarm clock. Past midnight. No longer Christmas Day. She hated thinking about those holidays with Jack. About those trips to the ballroom, those presents, those slow and sensuous dances that always ended with her naked in his arms. Their sexual interludes had gotten much more enjoyable once she convinced him to put a space heater in the corner. The room seemed to get colder as the years wore on. Or she had gotten more sensitive.
But that last Christmas had been different. Once Jack took her upstairs they barely spoke. She undressed, leaving the pearls on, and he silently kissed his way down her body, making her come again and again until he slid inside her. He took his time and they didn’t sleep at all, holding each other until the sun came up. In the morning she placed the pearls inside the box and never saw them again. They were gone along with the rest of her jewelry. All those things, vanished overnight.
Caroline glanced around the room. What did she have? A bed and blanket, a handful of clothes that didn’t fit right, a few gifts from the guys that, while quite thoughtful, didn’t amount to much? She’d gone from parties and fundraisers and jewelry boxes and ballrooms to a tiny corner bedroom, a couple of pairs of jeans, a few sweaters and shirts, and a pair of black boots. Oh, how the mighty had fallen. America’s Political Sweetheart had been humbled beyond recognition.
Riding high meant the fall was steeper. Being on top of the world meant that when you tumbled it would take eons before you hit rock bottom. And when you did, you realized there was no recapturing the glory and no point in remembering it either.
As dawn came and the sunrise poked through the clouds, she blocked out her memories of all those Christmases. All those kisses, all that love. Soon she’d be on her way to Chicago and none of that would matter anymore. Maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to get through the next few weeks and move on.