The next morning, I roll over in bed and am instantly reminded of the night before. I’m sore. Everywhere. My throat, breasts, and mostly between my thighs. Cam gave me a deliciously painful workout. Hopefully not the last of those. It was amazing. Passionate and exciting. I didn’t know sex could feel so intense. With Bryan, it was a chore. Hunched over, waiting for him to finish. Only twice did we have sex facing each other, and it was early in the relationship. After that, it was always the same way, and after a while, it became emotionless.
My eyes finally open to see the sun’s position high in the sky. I slept in. When was the last time that happened? I grab my phone off the nightstand, hardly remembering plugging it in last night. After the sex, I ate an absurd amount of shepherd’s pie and crashed. My hand brushes a piece of paper, and it falls to the floor. Leaning over the edge of the bed, I snatch it up and flip it over, squinting to read.
Went to get your things.
Stay put.
—C
Shit. My arms thrash as I throw off the covers, the aches even more apparent after moving my major muscle groups. After I get to my feet, I open the bedroom door and hobble out, colliding head-on with about ten garbage bags of stuff. My stuff.
I rip into the first bag; he got my clothes! I drag the bag to the small kitchen table and begin folding and stacking the pieces.
“Underwear!” I raise my arm in triumph. Oh, hell yeah! I’ve been washing and rotating the same three pairs for way too long. I don’t even care he’s seen all my lingerie. He saw a lot more last night anyway.
The next bag is filled with sweaters and jeans. Next, winter coats. Not all my shoes are here, but the ones he took are the most versatile. Smart man. After that, purses and jewelry. Makeup. He even grabbed my toothbrush. I have my things back!
How did he already get all this accomplished this morning? I grab my phone and text him.
Me: I don’t know how to thank you.
Cam: Last night was great for me too. My dick says you’re welcome.
Me: You know what I mean. When did you have time to get my things?
Cam: This morning. Saw one of his cousins post on Facebook they’re out of town to take care of family business. Timing worked.
Me: Who saw you? They let you walk out with all my stuff?
Cam: Bryan never took me off the guest list. Used your keycard to open the door, filled up the bags, sent them down the trash chute, and loaded them up in the alley. Not the first time I’ve done this.
Clearly. For a sister? Or maybe a woman he’s helped through Safehouse?
Me: Wow. That’s pretty clever, buddy. I owe you big time.
Cam: No need. But if you insist, I can think of a few ways . . .
Me: I mean, it’s only fair.
Cam: Glad you agree.
Me: I thought you didn’t sleep with the same girl more than once?
Cam: I decided that doesn’t apply to you.
Me: Somebody must have been a good student . . .
Cam: She was a very good student.
I smile. Why does him talking about me in the third person make my thighs tingle? I’ve got kinks coming out of the fucking woodwork after last night. A decent person would feel guilty about having sex so soon after breaking off an engagement. Not me. Guess I’m not a perfect angel. My villain era is well underway.
Humans aren’t meant to have quiet, boring, faceless sex. It was passionate and wild. He lit a fire in my soul. I woke up physically weak but emotionally empowered. The opposite of previous relationships. There is so much of myself I’ve ignored or suppressed over the years, but I got a taste of freedom last night. Sex the way I want it. How can one person teach me so much about myself?
No matter what comes of us, I’ll never regret my night with him. Camden isn’t available; he doesn’t do relationships—which I respect, but it’s hard not to feel a slight disappointment. When I’m ready to start dating again—if I date again—I want someone who will consume me the way Cam did. I shouldn’t get involved with anyone, but . . . knowing such a chemistry exists in the world is enough to give me hope for a chance at something great.
After years of numb intimacy, I could finally feel again. The sex was emotionally charged, and our connection was terrifyingly powerful, but he made me feel safe when I was most vulnerable. It was the first time I’ve been face-to-face with someone in a long time, and even then, it’s never been like that. He seemed to feel it too. Does he feel that with every woman he’s with? Selfishly, I want it to be exclusive to me, which is a dangerous seed to plant.
He didn’t let me take the easy way out when I got scared. I didn’t know it, but it was exactly what I needed.
I’m never sacrificing my own sexual pleasure for another man again. From now on, sex is on my terms. I want someone who will call me a slut because he knows I enjoy being objectified, not because he thinks I’m fucking someone on the side. Have him whisper filthy things that send waves of ecstasy down my spine instead of fear. I want him to bite, spit, and pull my hair because it brings me pleasure, not pain.
Camden opened so many new doors last night but made sure I entered by my own volition. Whereas, Bryan shoved me inside and locked it.
Perched on the laundry room countertop, waiting for the last load of clothes to dry, I get caught up on my to-do list by sending cancellation emails to each of the wedding vendors. Ironically, that’s when a text comes through from Bryan. Camden helped me get the VPN set up on my phone, so now I can use it without worry.
The only reason I haven’t blocked him is to keep a record of his hostility in case I need it for evidence. Usually, I ignore his texts, but curiosity gets the best of me and I open the message history. There are so many. They oscillate between rage and remorse. Yells at me in one, apologizes the next.
Bryan: Where are you?
Bryan: I’m sorry.
Bryan: Jordana, please answer me.
Bryan: You’ve made your fucking point. If you thought I was mad before, just wait. You better be home by the time I get off work. You don’t want to fuck with me.
Bryan: WTF??
Bryan: Where are you???
Bryan: You’re going to regret ever walking away from me after I get done with you.
Bryan: Tomorrow, I want you to remember that you asked for this.
Bryan: Ready to come home yet?
That was the day I got fired.
Bryan: Look, come home and everything will go back to normal. I’m sorry about the thing with your job, but I’m willing to reverse everything if you come home. Do you see how much I love you, Jordana???
Bryan: At least respond to my texts.
Bryan: SILENT TREATMENT??? REALLY? GROW UP!!!!
Bryan: Do you really plan on never speaking to me again? How about you act like an adult and quit being such a fucking coward.
Bryan: I fucked up, okay?! What the hell do you want from me?
Bryan: Is this about Veronica still? She is nobody. You’re the one I want.
Bryan: I said I was sorry. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU????
Bryan: STOP BEING SUCH A FUCKING CUNT, JORDANA!! ANSWER MY TEXTS!!! PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE!!!!
Bryan: I’m only mad because I love you and I care about us. I’m sorry if I flew off the handle, but you’re scaring me. I don’t know how I could go through life without you. Just call me back. Let’s work this out. I’m willing to get a counselor if that’s what you need.
Bryan: We can fix this. We just need to set expectations of each other.
A smirk spreads across my face. He’s losing it.
And expectations? Give me a break. Should I expect he’s going to fuck my friends on the side? Hit me when he’s angry? I want to text back, but I feel like he would use it against me somehow. He’s already destroyed the normalcy in my life, I won’t load the gun for him too.
Now that I’ve got my things, it’s time to make it official. The wedding date has been creeping closer, and I need to tell my parents before they catch wind from the wedding vendors I’ve already canceled.
I check the time, 6:00 p.m. in Monaco. I click their name, and it rings twice before my mom picks up.
“Jordana!”
“Hey, Mom . . . we need to talk.”
