I gather my belongings from a pile on the chair. This is awkward. I never thought after what we shared last night that I would be performing my first walk of shame.
Sophia clears her throat as I walk toward the door. “Old habits are hard to break. Just figured you’d want to make sure I was safe. You always take such good care of me, Graham.”
“Angie, don’t leave. I can explain. Please,” Graham pleas.
“It’s not a big deal, really,” I lie. “I just think it’s best that I go home.” I turn the doorknob and walk into the hallway.
Graham follows me downstairs and into the foyer where I find my shoes. I slip my phone into my handbag, clutch my dirty clothes to my chest, and hit the button for the elevator to let me down.
“Sophia and I have a past to—”
“And a present,” I chime in with a big fake smile. “Don’t forget about the present.”
“She is an employee, yes. And an—”
“Girlfriend,” I fill in the blank.
“Ex,” he clarifies.
“One you share meals with and—”
“It was just coffee.”
“One who has access to your apartment.”
“The doorman made the wrong assumption.”
I huff. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Sophia had her own key.”
Graham flinches, his jaw tense. “She is getting threatening messages like you are. She is terrified. Working as a model in the industry has opened her up to stalkers and male attention. I feel responsible. I am responsible. I have money, and anyone can see that I protect those I care about.”
My eyes well with tears I cannot control.
“Not like that, Angie,” he says quickly. “It was never like that. What I feel for you in no way compares to anyone I have had in my life before. I know you are mad at me. But you have to understand that it is you who I want. No one else.”
He makes a move to touch me, and I dodge his advances. His face winces with pain from my denial.
“Graham…”
“Baby, I am falling so hard for you.”
Graham’s words jolt my heartstrings. I am so torn. Do I allow myself to fall too? Do I allow myself to be vulnerable to a man who could potentially ruin me forever?
“I need time to think. Please give me some time.”
The elevator car arrives, and I walk inside. The door shuts as Graham runs his fingers through his hair in distress.
“This is not goodbye,” he promises.
It is for me.
28
I make my way out of the elevator, through the lobby, and out into the cold fall air. Looking around, I realize I don’t have a car. I look down at my meager attire. I look like a street bum in designer male sweats.
“Miss?” an older gentleman calls as he rushes out of the building.
“Yes?” I ask, eyeing his suit uniform.