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In five minutes it’d be one hundred and twenty-one days since she’d been with Nick. Over two thousand, eight hundred and eighty hours since she’d touched him or been touched by him. She grabbed the bottle of Crown Royal and a glass and went into the living room. She pushed Tank’s large, hairy body out of the way and sat on the couch next to him. She ran her fingers through the Belgian Malinois’s thick fur as she poured herself a hefty drink. She was going to need it. She missed Nick more than she should, more than was safe.
She picked up the letter from the coffee table. She didn’t need to read it. She knew it by heart. It was to Ethan, telling him to give her phone number to Nick. She folded it and put it in its envelope. She took a large sip of her drink and walked into her bedroom. She opened her nightstand and dropped the letter inside. No matter how much she wanted to see him, he wouldn’t feel the same. Men like him didn’t wait for women; they just found someone else to warm their beds. He’d probably barely remember her.
Her cell phone rang and she hurried into the living room. A spark of hope flared in her chest—improbable, unlikely, but it could be Nick. She grabbed her phone from the table and the hope sputtered and died. It was her sister, Maisie. She plopped on the couch. “Hey.”
“How you doing?” asked Maisie.
A few weeks after her last night with Nick, she’d broken down and told her sister everything. Well...not all the sexual details but everything else.
“Fine.” She took a swallow of her drink. It wasn’t exactly a lie. She would be fine. Eventually. One day, she’d stop dreaming of him—stop waking in the middle of the night needy and wet for him.
“You sure you don’t want me to come over?”
“Yeah.” She’d rather be alone. Tank nudged her hand. Correction. She wasn’t alone. She had Tank. She kissed his furry head. “I’m just going to watch a movie or read and then go to bed.”
“Okay. If you’re sure...”
“I’m sure.” She knew what was coming. She tossed back the rest of her drink and refilled it.
“Why don’t you send the letter?”
“I can’t.”
“What would it hurt? Best case he sent one too and you can see him again, worse case he didn’t and you’re right where you are now except you’d have closure.”
She’d also have pain—lots and lots of pain. “I can’t.”
“Sarah, you need to take a chance. What happened with Adam was sad and it hurt, but not every man is Adam.”
“I know.” She did. Not every man would choose another woman over her. Not every man would die loving another woman. Not every man would give her a baby. Perhaps, no man ever should. She hadn’t wanted that baby. She’d hated Adam so much for choosing Lisa that part of her had hated the child she’d carried, until she’d lost it. “I can’t do it again. I can’t.” She gulped down her drink.
“Sarah...” Maisie sighed.
“Please. Don’t. I can’t handle a lecture right now.” She bit down on her lip to stop from crying. She wanted Nick but he wasn’t the kind of guy to be with only one woman.
“Give him a chance.”
“To break my heart? No thanks.”
“He might not.”
She laughed. “You don’t know him. He told me he tired of women after a month. He’s forgotten about me by now.”
“What if he hasn’t?”
“Please. He belongs to a high class sex club. There are tons of women there willing to do all sorts of things. I doubt that he even thought twice about me once our contract was up.” And that made it hurt so much more.
“You don’t know that. He wanted more time with you. You told me he’d said he’d even be celibate for you.”
“Maisie, trust me. That’s not possible. Nick being celibate is like the sun rising in the west. It’s not going to happen.”
“He suggested it. You didn’t ask him to do it.”
“Because he wanted me to agree. He wanted to win. Everything’s a game to guys like him. They want everything their way and he was using whatever he thought I wanted to hear to convince me.” She paused. “And once I give him what he wants, he’ll leave.”
“So, you’re leaving him first.”
“Yes.” At least this way she could pretend that he’d thought about her at least a little, pretend she’d meant something more to him than someone to fuck for six nights.
“What if you’re wrong? What if he’s waiting for you and you don’t show up?”
Her heart skipped a beat. She’d hurt him. She didn’t want to hurt him. She didn’t want him to feel even a little bit of the pain she’d gone through with Adam.
“Think about that, Sarah. By protecting yourself, you may be hurting him.”
“Goodbye.” She hung up the phone. Her hands trembled as she took another drink. She stood and went into her bedroom and grabbed the envelope from her nightstand. He’d wanted her to bring it to the Club, not mail it. He’d said he’d be waiting for her.
She headed for the door but Tank was sitting on the couch watching her. She couldn’t leave him. She grabbed her phone. Maisie would come over and stay with him. He’d be okay for a few hours. She could be with Nick again—touch him, taste him, have him touch her. Her body trembled and then her fingers stilled on the phone. Or, she’d go to the Club and Ethan would take the letter. He’d try to hide it, but there’d be pity in his eyes. She couldn’t stand that...that pity. She might even see Nick with another woman. He’d know why she was there. He might even offer her a pity-fuck. The breath hitched in her chest. She wouldn’t do that again. She’d never chase after a man who didn’t want her. She wasn’t that stupid, young girl any longer.
She walked into her bedroom and tossed the envelope back into the drawer. She couldn’t, wouldn’t give anyone any reason to pity her again. She’d had enough of that for a lifetime.
She went into the living room and dropped onto the couch. Tank curled up by her side. She turned on the television and refilled her glass. She flipped through the stations and drank as her sister’s words echoed through her head. Maisie was wrong. Nick wouldn’t be waiting for her. She wasn’t hurting him; she was saving herself from hurt.