I didn’t want to be the creepy guy eavesdropping on her conversation, so I quickly went to the sink and filled a glass with water as quietly as possible. I glanced over to Whitney, but she hadn’t turned my way, clearly not aware I was in the room.
Figuring she was talking shop, I started to walk back to the bedroom to wait for her when I came up short.
“I’m so wet for you, baby. I always am,” she purred into the phone.
What the fuck?
Not caring if I was being invasive, I listened closely to her side of the conversation. And the more I heard, the more my heart sank.
“You upset me earlier. I thought we were going to spend the weekend together. You promised.” Her tone was playful, but with an undercurrent of hurt that was easy to spot. Then she giggled. “Mmm, I can’t wait.” She sounded aroused. I should know, I thought I had heard the same tone in her voice only a few minutes ago.
“Are you sure? You said earlier—” She was rubbing the back of her neck. She seemed tense but excited. “Okay, give me a few minutes to get my stuff together, and I’ll be right over.” She giggled. “I miss you too, baby. Not too much longer.” A pause. “I love you.”
I all but ran back to her bedroom, feeling like I was going to throw up.
When Whitney kissed me, I naively thought we were on the same page. Three sex romps later, and I believed that this was the start of something special between us. That our time had finally come.
Clearly, that wasn’t the case. She was obviously involved with someone else. Not just involved, but seriously involved. She told them she loved them.
Again, what the fuck?
Then why had she slept with me?
What was going on?
And more importantly, how could I have so misjudged Whitney?
I sat down on the bed, not sure what I should do. Should I confront her? I wasn’t exactly a confrontational kind of guy. Even though I was tall and broad and had the physique of a linebacker, I wasn’t confident. I wasn’t the bravado type. I was the fall in love deeply and forever kind of man.
And that had just bitten me on the ass.
I braced my elbows on my knees, covering my face with my hands. I had gone from the top of the world to rock bottom in five minutes.
I heard the door to the bedroom open, and I looked up at Whitney. She shot me a vague smile, not quite meeting my eyes. She pulled a dress out of the closet—one of the tiny ones that looked made for a toddler—and a pair of black high heeled shoes. “I have to head out. It’s a work thing. I probably won’t be back tonight. Sometimes these things go on all hours.” She wouldn't look at me. She spoke breezily as if she didn’t really care if she was convincing or not.
“You can stay here, I guess. But work’s crazy this week. I’m not sure how long you’re planning to be out here, but I doubt I’ll be able to be much of a host, so maybe a hotel would be better. One of those places where you can get a package deal on Hollywood tours or something.” Whitney shrugged her shoulders and scratched at her nose. “So, yeah, that’s probably the best idea. Maybe we can meet up again before you go …” Her voice drifted off as if she had given up on any attempt at niceties.
She was throwing me out. I had never felt so cheap and worthless in my entire life. Damn.
I cleared my throat and readied myself to let her have it. To ask her who she was talking to on the phone. To demand an explanation as to why she would screw my brains out, then leave me to meet up with another guy while wearing a sexy dress she definitely hadn’t put on for me. A guy she apparently ‘loved’ even though she had just spent the last hour having sex with me.
I wanted to tell her that I thought she was different. That I remembered her to be someone who was kind and gracious. Someone who volunteered her time at the old folk’s home and made blankets for newborns at the hospital.
I wanted to tell her that I loved the girl from Southport, who made everyone feel special just by being in her presence.
But the words froze in my mouth. I watched her gather her things and leave the room without waiting for a reply. She didn’t care what I did; she just didn’t want me there.
And that hurt.
No.
It broke me apart.
Feeling like I was moving through quicksand, I got dressed. The man who had taken these clothes off was a mile away from the man who put them back on.