by Emma Quinn
I was somewhat aware of someone helping me inside my home. I remember lying down on my big, empty bed. Warm hands dragged over my chest, brushed back my hair. Dianna used to do that, used to touch me in the most tender of ways that made me feel special and wanted and adored. Sleep grasped at my mind and dragged me under the surface.
But not before I heard the click of someone taking a photo.
17
Dianna
N
athan – I miss you. I’m sorry.
I stared at his text for a long time, my mind reeling. I thought I made it perfectly clear that I wanted nothing to do with him. I didn’t want to hear from him, see him, and I especially didn’t want to be receiving messages from him. The temptation to block his number was strong, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I miss you.
I’m sorry.
How could such simple words feel so damn heavy?
I was curled up in bed with my knees tucked to my chest, pillows piled up behind my back to support me. I thought I moved past the phase of watching sappy rom-coms while eating out of a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream, but judging by Love Actually playing on my laptop and the demolished ice cream bowl I’d made myself sitting on the blanket next to me, it was safe to say that I clearly hadn’t.
I miss you.
I missed Nathan, too. I missed him so much that my longing had seeped into my bones, left my fingers itching to reach out to him. I wanted to hold him. I wanted to cry and scream and kiss him. The mess of emotions that was my state of being was really putting me through the ringer. I was angry and sad and regretful. But I was too proud to let Nathan back in. I was too proud to give him a second chance. Every time I’d given the men in my life the benefit of the doubt, they squandered my trust and went ahead with hurting me anyway.
I supposed, in the grand scheme of things, what Nathan had done wasn’t as bad as what Tommy had done to me. Tommy had actually cheated –the shittiest thing a person could do to another person. If he was that unhappy, he should have just told me. We should have talked things out, worked on our relationship or ended things then and there. The fact that he didn’t even grace me with the time of day and slept with another woman was a sign that he didn’t respect me as much as I respected him.
Nathan was, for the most part, open with me. I got the feeling that he wasn’t the kind of guy to do that very often. That’s what made me feel so special whenever he was around. I alone knew how to break down his walls.
Just not all the way.
I’m sorry.
I’d been flip-flopping back and forth for an entire week. Sometimes I’d be so unbelievably upset that I couldn’t even move or think. Other times, I wondered if I was overreacting. Nathan said he was trying to protect himself. I did my best to see things from his shoes. Maybe he’d had his heart broken before. Maybe he’d been taken advantage of just like me. Being CEO of a massive company like that couldn’t have been easy. Maybe he was used to keeping people at arm’s length because he didn’t know who he could trust. Being unable to distinguish friends from enemies –it was too lonely for me to imagine.
I miss you. I’m sorry.
I sighed. This was just one of those days where it would have been easier to pull my hair out by the roots. My hand moved on its own and picked up my phone from off the nightstand. I gritted my teeth, hesitant, as I typed out a reply.
Dianna – Where are you?
I waited for ten agonizing minutes. It was a little past one. Maybe Nathan was already asleep. According to our message history, he texted me sometime around midnight. Perhaps he’d given up on hearing back from me. I couldn’t exactly blame him, either. It wasn’t like I’d given his other messages a response.
Buzz buzz.
My heart leapt into my throat and stayed there. I held my breath as I checked my phone, hands shaking nervously.
What I saw next floored me.
He’d attached a picture of himself in bed, fast asleep. He looked to be completely naked, his lower half covered up with soft silk sheets.
In his arms was a woman. A woman I recognized.
Billie Whaleson.
Judging by the angle, she was the one who took the picture, selfie-style. Her lips were puckered, smizing at the camera. She, too, appeared to be naked.
Nathan – Woops, sorry. Sent that to the wrong person.
It must have been her typing, because Nathan looked like he was out cold.
I didn’t bother messaging her back. Disgust flooded my system. I had no idea what was going on. Why did Nathan message me and told me he missed me when he was just going to sleep with another woman? Why did it have to be Billie Whaleson, of all people? How did the two of them even know each other?
“I don’t care,” I seethed. “I don’t care, I don’t care.”
There were no words to describe the pain I felt. I was alone and sad and heartbroken. Here I was thinking about giving Nathan a second chance, and just like that, all of my hopes of fixing things between us were shattered into a million, tiny little fragments. How could Nathan move on so quickly? Did he even care about me at all?
Clearly not.
A guy like him could have anybody he wanted. I got it in my head that I was special because maybe, just maybe, he wanted me.
Tears spilled from my eyes, soaked into my blanket to leave patches of dark moisture in the fabric.
“Fuck,” I hissed as I covered my face with my hands. “Fuck.”
What was wrong with me? Why was I so unlovable? Why did the men in my life feel the need to hurt me like this? I must have been a horrible person in a previous life, because the universe was seriously kicking my ass and I had no idea why.
I blocked his numbers. I deleted his photos.
Nathan Alexander was dead to me.
18
Nathan
T
his was the worst hangover in the history of hangovers.
My head was seconds away from exploding, the pressure inside my skull threatening to blow my brain up into tiny bits. Blinking was like dragging my exposed eyeballs over sandpaper. My muscles were molten lava and my bones were splintered shards of ice. The early morning light streaming in through the crack in the curtains was a blinding spotlight, exposing me puffy eyes to the harsh reality of the day.
The only relief I found was the coolness of my bedsheets, the softness of my king-sized mattress. But alarm sank in soon after. What was I doing here? How did I make it home last night? What the hell happened?
“Good morning,” a sultry voice greeted me.
I twisted my head around, stiff as my neck was, to find Billie sitting upright in bed with me. She had her back propped against the headboard, sheets pulled over herself for the sake of decency.
My heart sank.
“What did… Dear God, did we–”
“Relax. We didn’t do anything. You were out like a light the second your head hit the pillow.”
“Then why am I naked? Why are you naked? The fuck are you doing in my bed?”
Billie raised a perfectly arched brow. “I had to drag your sorry ass home. You should be thanking me.”
“Thanking you? Get– Holy shit, just get the fuck out of my house.”
Billie snorted at me. “No need to overreact.”
“Overreact? I’m not overreacting. Why the fuck are you naked?”
“I like sleeping in the nude,” she explained simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Silk sheets are supposed to be very good for your skin.”
I threw my legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. My clothes from last night were all on the floor, so I made for my pants and hastily slipped them on. I pointed a finger at the bedroom door.
“Get out,” I hissed. “Get the fuck out.”
“Jesus. You’d think a guy would be happy to wake up to a beautiful woman in their bed.”
“You’re not beautiful,” I snapped. The words rolled right off my tongue. I had no filter on, nothin
g to keep me back. Maybe it was the hangover. Whatever it was, it was fucking liberating. “You’re disgusting. Get the fuck out of my house, or I’ll call the cops.”
Billie rolled her eyes and got out of bed, flaunting her body as she walked over to pick up her dress from off the bedroom armchair, swaying her hips form side to side. “Are you sure you want me to leave?” she asked. “We could still have a lot of fun, you and me.”
“Don’t make me throw you out. I’ll do it.”
She clicked her tongue, amused. “Fine. Whatever. By the way, your girlfriend texted you.”
“My… My what?”
“I found you texting your girl last night. ‘I miss you. I’m sorry.’” She snickered. “Man, she’s really got you by the balls, huh? I sent her a reply on your behalf. Didn’t want to have her worrying about you.”
My jaw was clenched so hard that I heard my molars squeak against each other. My heart was thudding so hard it would have looked like a single line on a heartrate monitor. I looked around the room, frantically searching for my phone. I found it on the floor next to my abandoned shirt.
Dread washed over me when I opened my text messages.
Dianna – Where are you?
Just beneath her blue-colored text bubble, I apparently sent a picture. Or rather, Billie sent a picture in my place. It was the two of us in bed together, cuddled up close beneath the sheets. My eyes were closed, no doubt sleeping off the alcohol. Billie’s hair was mussed up, a devious smirk upon her lips as she winked at the camera.
Nathan – Woops, sorry. Sent that to the wrong person.
“Fuck,” I hissed. “Oh, no. No, no, no.” I glared at Billie, who was now fully dressed and picking up her five-inch heels from off the floor. “What have you done? Why the fuck are you doing this to us?”
She shrugged, uncaring. “Bored, I guess.”
“Bored?” If I seethed any harder, my brain would explode and paint the white walls of my bedroom. “You did this because you were bored?”
“You know, I’m kind of insulted. Nobody’s ever called me disgusting before. This must be karma for you.”
I had never once in my life hit a woman. Patty and Pops raised me better than that. But this person wasn’t a woman. Billie was a devil, a monster who’d been enabled and brought up to believe the world was hers. I could see her for what she was, a heartless bitch. She didn’t care who she hurt so long as she got her way. She ruined peoples lives and made them difficult just for her entertainment.
“Get the fuck out!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. The effort left me winded, but I didn’t care.
Billie flipped me the bird as she trudged out of the bedroom.
Good fucking riddance.
I dialed Dianna’s number. I prayed harder than I ever had in my entire life. I anxiously chewed on the inside of my cheek, biting down so hard I could taste the sour saltiness of blood.
“Pick up,” I mumbled. “Pick up, pick up, pick up.”
I counted five dial tones before a distorted voice greeted me. “Hi, it’s Dianna. I can’t come to the phone right now. Please leave your name and number, and I’ll try to get back to you as soon as I can.”
“Dianna, please listen to me. I know you’re probably pissed. You have every right to be. But I didn’t– Nothing happened between us. Last night I got drunk and–”
The phone beeped at me, cutting me off.
“Fuck,” I hissed as I tried again. I once again got her voice mail. “Dianna, you have to believe me. I didn’t sleep with that woman. I drank to much and she took me home. She was the one who undressed me and took a picture of us together. I had no intention of–”
Her voicemail cut me off again.
I was drowning. I couldn’t breathe. My legs were Jell-O and my chest was seconds away from imploding. I gripped my phone so tight I heard its case cracking. Even though it seemed hopeless, I needed to give it one more try. An awful wave of guilt and nausea washed over me as I hit redial.
To my utmost surprised, she answered.
“Dianna, listen to me, I–”
“Nathan.” She said my name so softly that it hurt. Dianna sounded exhausted and weak. She said my name like a burden, voice cracking and scratchy. She took a deep breath, but her nose was plugged up and her throat was hoarse. “Leave me alone.”
Three words. Three simple words that were daggers to my heart.
“Dianna, wait, I can explain. I didn’t sleep with her. I didn’t–”
“I don’t believe you.”
I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear my hair out. How could I have been so stupid? Why did I drink so much? Why was everything going to shit? For the first time in my life, I’d found a woman who I could seriously picture my future with, and everything was crumbling down around me. I thought I was a man with all the answers, a man in control. But I had no fucking clue how to handle this. I didn’t know how to fix this.
Dianna had been cheated on before. She’d been hurt and mistreated. She gave herself to me, trusting that I’d be different. That I could care for her and love her the way she deserved. And what did I do?
I’d ruined everything.
“Dianna–”
“Don’t.” She sounded like she was about to burst into tears, voice so thin and high it was on the verging of breaking. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Please,” I whispered, desperate. “Please, just let me see you. Let me explain everything. I miss you so fucking much, Dianna. I’m so fucking sorry. You have to believe me.”
“Goodbye, Nathan. Don’t call me again.”
She hung up.
There was nothing but dead air.
19
Dianna
I
hate my job, I hate my job, I hate my job.
It had been almost two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred thirty-six hours. That was how long it had been since I last heard from Nathan. Since I told him to leave me alone.
It was excruciating. Seeing that picture of him and Billie together in bed –what else was I supposed to think? Of course they slept together. How else was I supposed to interpret that? Nathan was a no good liar. Just like Tommy. Just like all men because that’s what men did. They lied to get what they wanted. When they got it, they had no use for you.
I turned down both the Monteverde and Billie Whaleson projects. I didn’t want to work with either one of them. Rachel had other photographers, other teams that could handle the spreads. I’d just work on something else. There was always something to do –like boring paperwork or photo-editing for upcoming pieces.
Rachel tapped her fingers on the edge of my desk, approaching with more caution than usual.
“How you doing?” she asked softly, testing the waters.
“Busy.”
“Do you… Do you want to grab lunch with me? There’s this cute new pizzeria down by Saxton I thought you might like.”
“I brought a packed lunch, but thanks.”
She twirled a strand of her in her fingers. She twirled it over and over again as she sucked on her lower lip. “Do you… Um–”
“I’m fine,” I said as evenly as I could. “Just working. Just keeping busy.”
“Do you want to talk? My office is available.”
“No.” I kept my eyes on the screen. I was currently working on a new ad campaign for some new, wacky flavor of gum. It was a smaller project. It didn’t pay as well. I couldn’t give two shits.
“Dianna, I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t be. I’m fine.”
“We all know what ‘fine’ really means.”
I breathed in slowly through the nose and turned in my chair to face her. “I’m great,” I corrected. “Never been better.”
“This isn’t like you, Dianna.”
“What? Being productive.”
“No.” Rachel sighed and gestured at all of me. “This. This isn’t like you. You’ve been short and snappy with your colleagues. You’ve been working well past close. I kno
w you’re hanging around work because you don’t want to have to go home.”
“Jesus. Not so loud, Rache.”
“That’s why I wanted to talk to you in my office.”
“Look, I’m–” I swallowed hard. Pressing the tips of my fingers together, I brought my hands to my lips and tried to concentrate. “I’m sorry,” I said slowly. Too slowly. Nothing about what I was saying felt even remotely normal. “I’m sorry that I’ve been snappy with everybody. I’m just… I’m going through some stuff right now and I don’t… I don’t feel like talking about it right now, okay?”
“You know I’m here for you, right? You don’t have to push me away.”
“I know, Rachel. I know.”
“My doors always open.”
“I know that, too.”
Rachel pressed her lips into a thin line, worry wrinkling her brow. “There was another delivery for you. From Nathan.”
“What was it this time? Chocolate? Another ridiculous large teddy bear?”
“An entire room full of camera equipment.”
My ears perked up. “What?”
“You heard me. Different camera models, a wide selection of lenses, new drones that aren’t even available on the market yet.”
I shook my head. “He can’t buy an apology from me. Send it all back.”
“A-are you sure? I mean, it’s kind of romantic, don’t you think?
I shot Rachel a quizzical look. “You serious?”
“Every day for the past two weeks, Anna. I mean, come on. Who does that? He’s clearly very sorry.”
“You just want to keep the camera equipment.”
“No,” she said unconvincingly. “Maybe. I mean, would it hurt to keep it? It’s a gift, right?”
I rose from my office chair, too exhausted to continue arguing with her. “Do whatever you want.”
“Where are you going?”
