“Well that explains a lot,” he says, rolling his eyes and turning around.
As soon as I know he’s not looking, I strip out of his shirt and hastily put on my clothes from last night. “What is that supposed to mean?” I ask.
“Why you came looking for me.” His eyes slide to mine and his stare makes me want to melt. I resist that enticement and instead try to gather some shred of my dignity.
“Look, I don’t know for sure what happened last night. Judging from my appearance this morning, I have a pretty good guess. Nonetheless, I would appreciate it if we could forget about it and never mention it to anyone.” I throw my handbag over my shoulder and reach out to shake his hand.
“You’re fucking with me, right?” he asks with a chuckle.
I look down at my outstretched hand. “I don’t really know what’s customary after sleeping with a stranger. I’m just trying to be polite.” I retract my hand and let it rest at my side, slightly offended by his demeanor and foul language.
“Do you really not remember what we did last night?” he asks. “You only had two drinks at the bar.” He has a somewhat whimsical grin on his face like he’s amused by seeing me squirm.
“Yeah, well, I don’t drink often,” I sigh, getting frustrated with him, myself, and the entire encounter. “I get that this is a regular occurrence for you, but this morning-after chitchat is really uncomfortable for me. I’d really like to just leave and forget this ever happened, and I really don’t want anyone else to know who I spent the evening with either. This is very embarrassing.”
His smile fades and he gives me a curt nod. “Because I’m the immature man-slut, right. That’s what you think of me, too.” He’s not asking; he’s simply stating. I can see I’ve noticeably hurt his feelings.
He stands and readjusts his towel to cover himself up and moves past me toward the door.
“Royce, I didn’t mean for that to come out the way it did,” I say, hustling to catch up to him.
“I think that’s exactly what you meant, but don’t worry about it. I’ve been a lot of people’s one night mistake.” He opens the door and motions for me to leave. “Your secret is safe with me.” His voice is monotone and flat, his eyes fixed straight ahead, not acknowledging me.
I stand, just looking at him, trying to gauge his true feelings about everything, but I can read absolutely nothing. He’s completely turned off his emotions toward me. That playful Royce I saw just five minutes ago is long gone. I exhale loudly and step into the hallway.
“Well, thank you I guess,” I tell him. I catch him off guard and the surprise is evident on his face.
“What are you thanking me for?” he asks, his brow scrunched. “For agreeing to forget we hung out last night so your friends won’t know.”
I open my mouth to explain, but he speaks and I immediately stifle my words. He moves into the hallway, with no regard for his lack of clothing. “Or maybe you’re thanking me for holding your hair for you when you threw up in front of a group of tourists on the strip last night after those nasty nachos.”
I shake my head in disbelief, and he nods that I did, in fact, make a spectacle of myself, in public no less. “You could even thank me for buying you a lap dance at the strip club we went to last night. Oh yeah, it happened.”
He has continued to walk toward me and I’m now pinned between his massive arms and the wall behind me. My heart is pounding and I can hear myself breathing. He leans into me, placing his lips close to my ear, and all I can think is how great sleeping with him would have been and it’s a shame I can’t remember it.
“Whatever you want to thank me for, Carly,” he whispers, “don’t worry about thanking me for fucking you. As much as I would love to, and as much as you begged for it, I’m not the type of guy to take advantage of someone.”
He turns and walks back into his room, leaving me panting against the wall. “No matter what you think of me, I’m not that big of an asshole,” he adds before slamming the door.
I stand in the hall for a moment to collect my bearings. So not only did I drink way more than my body could handle last night, I puked in public, attended and enjoyed myself at a strip club, begged to sleep with the person who was taking care of me, and then insulted him after reviving me from my bender. Great! My cheeks flush with embarrassment. I’m a grown woman with a child and in the middle of a divorce, and I behaved like a twenty-one-year-old on spring break. Selfie pictures and film clips on social media sites would make this misadventure complete.
I quickly walk to the elevator, step inside, and push the button for my floor. Digging into my purse, I find my phone and begin my scavenger hunt through my photo gallery for evidence of my evening with Royce. Sure enough, there are pictures of the two of us all over town. Margaritaville, the fountains at the Bellagio, the roller coaster, and singing with the piano guy at the New York New York; even pictures with groups of very attractive women. My guess would be the strippers he mentioned.
The thing I notice in all of the pictures, though, is I’m smiling…he’s smiling. No matter what my preconceived notions about Royce were, he made me feel comfortable enough to spend the evening with him, and it wasn’t the alcohol. We looked like friends enjoying each other, and if I hadn’t let my mouth completely mess it up, we would probably be enjoying each other right now.
I close out the pictures and bring my home screen back up to see the multiple missed calls from Vivian and Jen. Numerous text messages wanting to know where I am, and if the Russian mob has kidnapped me and I need Liam Neeson to rescue me. Yeah, that one was Jen.
The elevator doors slide open and I quickly shoot off a text that I’m fine and I’ll meet them for breakfast as planned. I finally make it to my hotel room and relax into my $200 a night king size bed. My eyes are still tired and my body aches, but my mind won’t turn off enough to rest. Instead, I scan through the pictures of my previous evening. I look more alive and free in those images than I have felt in several years. I can’t stop staring at Royce and feel bad for treating him the way I did.
I rub my hands down my face, even though my mother routinely warned me that such an action would pull at my skin and cause wrinkles. It does little to relieve the stress I feel. So I sigh deeply and do the only thing I know will help. I find the number I’m looking for and send the only words I can say.
I’m sorry.
Campbell
I struggled to pull myself away from Lakin this morning. Our bed was a cocoon of warmth and love no one should have to leave, but if I don’t make it to breakfast this morning with the girls, there will be hell to pay.
Last night was one of the hardest and best of my life. Sharing my story with Lakin was so frightening. Other than Sharon and Evan, no one knows about all of it, not even the girls. Lakin was right though, if we were going to take that step, he needed to know all of me, the good and the bad. His reaction, the way he made me feel worthy, only makes me love him even more. My fear of losing everything is fading and Lakin has replaced that fear with hope…a hope for what could be.
However, I’m not ready to tell the girls what Lakin and I did last night. Even though we are here for Jen’s bachelorette party, the wedding still a few months away, and Lakin and I agreed to keep it a secret until it was all over. For me, the heart we had tattooed on my ring finger is enough of a reminder of our new life together.
I kissed his temple, left him a sweet love note, and slipped out the door without waking him this morning. Maybe if I just order toast or something else equally quick, I could be back in our bed before he even notices I was gone.