Three school visits and two hospital openings is a long time to watch someone to see if they look your way. I can confirm that Sebastian has not. Not even a glance.
And that’s fine. It’s totally fucking fine. I don’t need him to look my way.
He did, however, make riveting conversation and laugh with every other female in the room.
Screw him.
Sneaking out every morning like he’s embarrassed that we slept together.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Actually, I don’t even need to ask myself that. I’ve worked it out.
I’m the queen of self-sabotage.
Nice men who love me, I care for, but don’t want. Assholes who want to pay me for sex and have me at their beck and call, I crave.
No more.
I’m done with men. Fuck them all, I say.
Not literally. There will be no fucking.
No fucking whatsoever.
I’m becoming a nun. I am way too old for this shit.
The car pulls to a halt outside our hotel, and I climb out with Bart. It must be the day for it because he and Jeremy had a fight at lunch, too.
I wasn’t supposed to hear it, but I couldn’t help it seeing as I was sitting with them. Although, I was pretending to be on the phone. Jeremy is pissed because Bart told him he’s going away for the weekend with his wife. Jeremy completely lost his shit and threw his bread roll into his soup. It even splashed on my shirt.
He got up and stormed off, and we haven’t seen him since.
Where the hell he went, I don’t know.
We waited for a long time in the carpark while Bart tried to call him. He didn’t answer. Now Bart is furious, and I’m scared to speak in fear of saying the wrong thing.
But I am confused. Surely, the fact that Bart even has a wife should be reason enough to be pissed. Why would a weekend away trigger him when he goes home to her every night?
Who knows? Maybe Jeremy has a wife at home, too. Nothing surprises me anymore.
I can’t talk or place judgement. I win the prize for messed up love.
I don’t love Sebastian.
Fuck’s sake.
The whole world has gone to hell on a broomstick.
I take the elevator up to my floor and walk down the large corridor to my room.
We’ve come back to get ready for a function tonight, and it’s the very last thing I feel like doing. I have no idea where Sebastian is, nor do I care.
I open the door to my room and instantly see that the adjoining door between our rooms is open.
Oh, it suits him now.
I narrow my eyes. Don’t even.
Calm, calm. Keep fucking calm.
I’m angry, more than I should be, but I don’t like being treated like crap, and I’m not playing this game of his.
He comes around the doorframe, a glass of scotch in hand, dressed in his black dinner suit. “Hello.”
I roll my lips to hold my snarky tongue. “Hi.”
“Why are you so late getting back?”
I widen my eyes. Why are you such a prick? “We had to wait for someone.”
He gives me a slow, sexy smile, “Well, I’m glad you’re back.”
Ha. Horny are you, fucker?
“I’m tired. I’m going to have a nap.” I gesture to the door. “Do you mind?”
A smirk crosses his face. “Do I mind?”
“Closing the door.”
“This one?” He taps the door with his palm.
Yes, that one, you dumb fuck. What other doors are there? “Please.”
He walks into my room and closes the door behind him. I stare at him flatly.
He sips his scotch and raises his eyebrow.
I cross my arms over my chest. Seriously, just, go away.
“Is there a problem?” he asks calmly.
“You tell me.”
He holds his hands up and shrugs sarcastically.
I smile sweetly, the psycho part of my brain now activated. “I’m tired. Please leave.”
“How could you possibly be tired? You slept like a log all night.”
I glare at him.
You’ll be sleeping like a dead person soon. “Sebastian.” I sigh. “I am not in the mood for you today. If you don’t want to argue, I suggest you leave me alone.”
“What’s turned you so pissy?”
“Oh, my fuck!” I snap in exasperation.
Before I explode, I turn my back to him, go to the fridge, and fill a glass full of wine. This damn man is turning me into an alcoholic. I never usually drink on a school night.
“You’re angry with me?”
I take a sip, still standing with my back to him.
“Is this about last night?”
I spin toward him, all systems firing. “What could I possibly be pissed about, Sebastian?”
“I don’t know. You’re the one who offered…” He cuts himself off.
“Offered my services?” I ask. “Is that what you were going to say.”
“No,” he says too quickly.
“I’m not pissed about last night.” I open the sliding door and walk out to sit on the balcony. He follows me out and sits in the chair beside me.
I stare out over the city as I try to work out what I want to say. I don’t even know.
I’m trying so hard not to be a drama queen, but damn it, I hate feeling like this.
“Why do you do that?” I ask.
“Do what?”
“Sneak out.”
“I don’t want to wake you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Really?”
He exhales. “I don’t need—”
“I know,” I cut him off. “You don’t need drama, and you don’t need me, but you like using my body for sex. I get it, Sebastian. You’ve made it more than clear on many occasions.”
“I don’t like your tone.”
“And I don’t like feeling like fucking shit.”
“So don’t.” He shrugs.
I stare at him. “What does that mean?”
“If I make you feel like shit, don’t see me anymore.” He sips his scotch, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Go back to your boyfriend… the football guy.”
My nostrils flare as I struggle with my over active emotions. He really doesn’t care.
“You know what?” I practically spit, losing the last of my patience. “I wish that I stared at him all day waiting for him to look my way. I wish that I picked up his shirt from the floor and inhaled it just so I could smell him. I wish that I stayed awake all night watching him sleep because I thought he was the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen. And most of all, I wish to God that I felt for him what I do for you, Sebastian, because he deserves me.” I angrily wipe the tears from my eyes, embarrassed that I care for him as much as I do.
His eyes hold mine.
“And I hate that you make me needy and whiny because this isn’t who I am. The shoe is always on the other foot, and I hate that the person I care for doesn’t give a fuck about me.”
His brow creases. “Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s true.”
“What do you want me to do, April?” He stands in an outrage. “Whisk you away for a month in Italy? Follow you around like a puppy? Get on bended knee and propose? I don’t know what preconceived ideas you have on how relationships should be, but I can assure you, I am not about that. And if you’re not happy then don’t put me through your bullshit drama. I won’t fucking put up with it.”