Minutes ago, I was wrapped in the warm embrace of what I thought was the perfect man, and now I’m in the middle of a bullshit lecture and said perfect man walked out like I’m a cheap hooker. I’m surprised he didn’t toss down a fifty-dollar bill. Motherfucker.
“Chloe?” The shock in my dad’s voice deflates his anger but leaves a wave of disappointment in its wake.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I’ll talk to you tonight when I get home.”
“Okay, Chloe. You know I love you, and I’m only worried about you. You’ll always be my baby girl.”
“I know, Dad. I love you, too.” A tear slips down my cheek and lands on the lapel of my robe. The circle of wetness turns the fabric a darker shade of burgundy.
Damon
As I walk in my suite, my head feels like it’s going to explode. My entire body trembles with anger. If I hadn’t heard it with my own ears, I wouldn’t have believed it. Whoever I spent the weekend with is not Dalilah Knight. She’s been lying to me the entire time.
Apparently, she’s been lying to her parents about where she is as well. Unfortunately, that bit of information does not help to relieve my total and complete devastation. I’ve made rash decisions over the years, but apparently, this is the stupidest.
Not that I deserve any better. I lied to my daughter, so why shouldn’t I be played by someone else. It’s the universe’s sick sense of humor.
For a moment after I heard her tell her father that ‘Dalilah’ had set her up with a place to stay for the weekend, I entertained the notion of waiting and hearing her out. Would she fess up and tell the truth? Does she feel anything when she’s with me?
But that’s me being a total loser. I know every inch of her body like it’s my own, but I’m not important enough to know her name. Without that information, I’ll never be able to find her again. Clearly, that’s her intention.
Was anything she said true? Did the bullshit with her ex happen? Had she never had an orgasm or given or received oral sex? Is she a pathological liar? God, I’m a total idiot.
I grab my suitcase out of the closet and toss my clothes inside with no care of how wrinkled everything will get. That is the least of my worries. I’ve got to get out of here and back to my real life.
This weekend is an aberration and the reason I don’t do anything more than a random hookup with women. I need to focus on my family and career. Shit. My kids don’t need me. They’re adults with their own lives.
I’ll put all my energy into my business. I slam the lid down on my suitcase and rush into the bathroom. My toiletry case is on the counter, and I toss everything inside.
Glancing at the clock, I groan. It’s only eleven fifteen in the morning. My flight doesn’t leave until six o’clock tonight. I’ve got to get an earlier flight.
I pick up my cellphone and stab at the keys until I find the number to the airport. While I wait to find out whether I can beg and plead my way onto an earlier flight, I pace the floor.
Looking down at my clothes, I cringe. I’m still wearing the suit I wore to the wedding. I need to change. I don’t want to sit at the airport and on a flight for six hours wearing a disheveled shirt and appearing like a homeless person that robbed a funeral home.
It takes over twenty minutes to get my boarding time moved to two o’clock, but it’s worth every second of my time. I’m scared spitless that if I stay, I’m going to breakdown and make a fool out of myself in front of… Fuck. What’s her name? Yeah, I’ve got to go.
Once I’m done with my shower and wearing jeans and a t-shirt, I feel better about myself. I’ve been shit on before and survived. If nothing else, Brandi taught me that I’m capable of living alone and raising two children. I don’t need another person to complete me.
Besides, I’m too old to be worrying about how to navigate a relationship. Which side of the bed does she sleep on? Where does she put her clothes? What time does she get up in the morning? Does she snore? Shit. I know all those things about – Dalilah. I’ll keep calling her Dalilah because it’s easier than calling her, ‘What’s her name.’
We both sleep in the middle. She puts her clothes in the bottom drawer, and I put mine in the top drawer. We like to get up at the first sign of daybreak and make love. Yeah, who the hell doesn’t? That’s not a radical sign of deep and everlasting love. And, yes, she snores, and it’s cute as shit. Or at least it was last night before I knew she was lying to me. I growl and hit the edge of the bathroom doorframe.
A knock at the door jerks me out of my despondent reminiscing. Karissa and Decker will be in their room until tomorrow when they head off to their honeymoon in the Caribbean. That leaves Brandi and Dalilah. I don’t want to see either one of them.
I stomp across the floor like a tantrum-throwing three-year-old and jerk the door open. Dalilah stares with wide, sad eyes. No. I can’t fall for that. Everything she says is a lie. Wait. Maybe she came to apologize and confess. If she comes clean, can I forgive her?
“Yes?”
“Can I come in?” She rubs her hands together. Her face is scrubbed clean of make-up and everything about her screams – natural beauty, sweetness, and innocence. The only thing true in that statement is her natural beauty.
“Fine.” I sweep my hand in her direction and wave her inside. “Come on in. Make yourself at home.”
When the door shuts, I fold my arms over my chest. I do it more to keep from jerking her into my arms than anything else. I still want her. My body yearns to be near her, but my head knows it’s a mistake. An error in judgment I won’t make again.
She cocks her head. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Humph,” it comes out like a derisive chuckle. So much for my theory that she’d walk in here and try to rectify things. “No. It’s fine.” I’m not about to stick a knife in my chest and bleed all over her. She’s made her decision. “Everything okay with your parents?”
“Yes.” She gives me a weak smile. “I’m sorry I had to take the call. I thought someone might be hurt.”
Hurt? That’s classic. At least she’s concerned about her family’s wellbeing. “It’s fine. I needed to get packed. My flight leaves in less than two hours, and I’ve got to get to the airport.”
“Oh.” Her smile fades. “I guess this is it.”
“I guess so.” I wait to see if she says anything. Tell me your name. Please. God, I’m not going to beg.
Nothing comes out of her mouth as the seconds, tick into minutes. “Well, I’ve got to go. Thank you for pretending to be my fake girlfriend.”
“You’re welcome.” She flushes and shoves her hands into her pockets. “Um…”
“Yes?” My heart skips a beat.
“It was nice meeting you, Damon. You have a lovely family.”
“Yeah.” Son of a bitch. I’m a total dumbass. Even though I’m calling myself every name in the book, I have to give her one more chance. I raise my eyebrows. “Goodbye,” I pause for a second, “Dalilah?”
“Bye, Damon.” She bites her bottom lip and then rushes to the door.
Chapter Twelve