I was suddenly deeply ashamed of myself. Not because I just had mind-numbing sex with him, but because I had used him for my own personal needs.
Never in my life had I been so selfish.
He looked at me. “Do you want to talk about what happened now?”
“No.”
He handed me the broom, and I took it.
“Well then, I guess there’s not much else to say.” He headed for the door. “See ya around, Doc.”
Chapter 11
The condo was suddenlybereft and cold now that I was alone.
I should’ve called out to him. I should’ve asked him to stay. I should’ve told him about my mother.
Only…
Only telling him anything about my family wasn’t keeping things casual. I’d told Jeff after six months of dating, but I had never been truly comfortable with him knowing about our family’s skeletons in the closet.
Boxer was a biker. We belonged in different worlds. There was no point in explaining to him anything serious because what we were doing was supposed to be finite from the get-go.
And yet, the loss of Boxer’s presence carved deeper than I expected.
I looked around. There were no longer any physical remains of the mess I had made.
No, the mess was inside of me.
My emotions were like a hodgepodge of childhood toys thrown haphazardly into a chest.
I was a grown woman, and yet I had behaved like an irrational teenager. I always seemed to go back to that place whenever my mother was involved. It was like a Pavlovian response. I’d never mastered the art of not caring when it came to her. I’d never grown enough emotional scar tissue to protect myself where she was concerned.
And without realizing what I’d been doing, I’d treated the man with all the casual indifference of a stranger.
But he didn’t feel like a stranger.
I walked to the bedroom and stared at my big, empty bed. Tonight was supposed to have gone differently. My mother never should’ve called; I was meant to be out sharing a meal with Boxer, laughing and touching each other with the sensual, teasing pleasures that would lead him to coming home with me.
I’d have invited him in, and he would’ve stared at me with dove gray eyes that darkened with lust. He’d march me into my condo, heading for the bedroom, where he’d lay me down on my bed…
But I’d blown it all to hell because I was an emotional hand grenade, and my pin had been pulled.
I changed out of my dress, throwing it in the laundry basket. I’d never wear it again. Every time I looked at it, I’d remember this night, this shame.
I pulled on a fuzzy lavender sweatshirt and black yoga pants, and then I went into the bathroom to wash my face. The mascara was smudged beneath my blue eyes, and my red lipstick had been smeared from my mouth. I looked like a broken circus clown.
I gently removed the makeup, tossing the soiled cleansing pads into the garbage.
Without my face painted, I looked young.
Vulnerable.
I went out into the kitchen, wanting to make myself a cup of tea, only I hadn’t spared any of the mugs.
I was too tired to be angry at myself. I grabbed my cell phone and searched through my contacts list for the management company that took care of the building. I called and left a voice message, asking to speak to the owner.
When that had been dealt with, I made sure the condo was locked up for the night, and then I turned off the light.