I’ll always be thinking of you.
Don’t seek me out.
He laid the note on the table and, after one last look that nearly wrenched his heart out, left the room, ready to face the cold light of morning.
Chapter Six
Since waking up alone at the hotel, Kimber had been sleepwalking in a mediocre nightmare. Any minute now, she expected evidence to arrive that would explain his abandonment and decision were part of an elaborate sick joke. A week later, she still waited.
He’d promised. She’d believed him. Why not? Someone couldn’t possibly be so cruel to keep his identity a secret after all that-so she’d thought.
They’d spent the night in bed, in bliss, making good use of the king-sized mattress. Liberated by the lack of time limit and wanting to savor the last few hours of the unknown, Kimber had let her remaining inhibitions go, giving rise to a passion inside her she hadn’t known existed. Afterward, they’d lain beside each other, their limbs tangled as their mouths all but fused together to the point where they no longer felt like kisses but a way of life, and she’d wondered how it could ever not feel right.
Then came the morning, when she’d woken from a sleep that more closely resembled hibernation and read his note, and her optimism had morphed into a humiliation and disappointment unlike anything she’d ever known. She’d dressed in the wrinkled outfit she’d worn last night and left, embarking on her walk of shame through the hotel lobby toward her car, where she’d burst into tears, not caring who saw her. She’d never felt so used in her life.
Was it something she’d done? Of course it was-she’d let him have his way. What was wrong with her, not demanding or requiring to know who she was sleeping with? She’d all but asked for this.
She couldn’t decide which was worse-the pain and embarrassment of being betrayed in such a way, or the fact she’d never know who he was. Moquest wasn’t talking, said that it wasn’t his place. That he thought keeping an acquaintance’s identity under wraps was more important than her sanity was another slap to the face. Since when was Moquest so good at keeping secrets? His mouth was so big he could whisper in his own damn ear.
As Kimber built a sea breeze on ice in a highball glass, wondering if she would ever experience a full night’s sleep again, Dane shuffled toward the counter from between rows of slot machines, looking sheepish, unsure, and the worst she’d ever seen him. Dark circles ringed his troubled pale blue eyes, his long, wavy brown hair hung limply around his shoulders, and though he’d always been lean, he looked downright gaunt now, resembling one of the skeletons on his trademark Grateful Dead shirt. To think her coworker Alison commented on her looking like a zombie today.
Fantastic. She hadn’t thought the week could get worse, yet she was surprised to feel nothing but mild annoyance at his presence. Just a month ago, his showing up at the casino would’ve sent her head and heart into a tailspin, for better or worse. Now she barely recognized him or identified with the girl she’d been, wanting him so badly.
“Hi, bables.” Dane’s mouth twisted the way it always did when he was delivering bad news or waiting for her to make a decision that would further complicate his slacker lifestyle.
“Hey.” How she could know all his idiosyncrasies yet view him as a stranger? “What’re you doing here?”
“Visiting you.” He toyed with one of the many braided bracelets on his wrists. There were a few new ones she didn’t recognize, reminding her of their separate lives. “Is that okay?”
“It’s fine.” It wasn’t, it was annoying, but what could she do? Scream “No!” and cause a scene? “Are you getting a drink?”
“Nah.” Everything in his eyes betrayed how badly he wanted one though. He let out an embarrassed chuckle. “I’m sort of too broke for that.”
Now there was the title of Dane’s future autobiography. Still, she mustered up a sympathetic grimace and set to wiping the counter.
Dane licked his lips and hopped onto a stool. “See, I got laid off. I’ve been trying to find a new job, but there’s nothing out there but customer service gigs and that’s, like, the last thing I want to do.” He sighed, propping his elbow on the counter and resting his head in his hand. “And Sam and Wendy kicked me out since I couldn’t make rent, and I had to move back in with my parents. I’ve been so embarrassed about it that I haven’t talked to anyone in a week. Not that anyone will even talk to me anyway.” He released a bitter laugh. “So I’m unemployed with no place to live, no education, no money, no friends, and no future. The only decent thing I’ve got going for me is the band, and I can barely make practice since my car is such a piece of shit. Isn’t that the most pathetic thing in the world?”
It actually was. Kimber stared at Dane, almost feeling sorry for him because he couldn’t see how any of it was his fault.
“As if it wasn’t totally obvious,” he said, fixing his tortured gaze on her, “my life is shit without you, bables.”
Kimber turned away. This wasn’t a road she wanted to go down. But Dane stood and followed her around the perimeter of the bar, his voice growing desperate. “You probably hate my guts now and I really don’t blame you, but what I’m saying is the truth.” He lunged across the counter between two women nursing martinis and caught her elbow. “Please, Kimber, listen to me. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I hate myself every day for fucking it all up.”
Her face flamed in both anger and embarrassment as other customers ringing the bar gawked at them with curiosity. Alison even leaned back against the counter with her arms crossed, openly watching them with unguarded fascination.
“Alison,” Kimber said, “I’ll be back in five, okay?”
“Oh poo.” Alison huffed and blew her jet-black bangs from her eyes with a disappointed sigh. “I never get to see anything good.”
Kimber shook Dane off her and rounded the counter, heading for the outside patio. Dane trailed behind her, cowed and subservient. “I’m sorry about that. God, I can’t do anything right anymore.”
Once outside, she whirled on him, furious. He wasn’t sorry he made a scene; he was sorry, period. “What could you possibly want from me?”
“I just wanted to apologize in person.”
“Mission accomplished. I forgive you. Now please leave. I’m working.”
His face crumpled with despair. “But you don’t really forgive me. You’re clearly pissed off.”
Kimber grabbed her hair with both hands and let out a frustrated howl. “Dane-”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Look, meet me tomorrow night for a drink, just one. I just want to see you for a bit. I need to talk to you. I hate that you’re not in my life. Please. Let me try to set things right.”
“Fine, whatever.” Agreeing to his proposition seemed the only way to get rid of him. It was strange to think that just a few weeks ago, she would’ve had a vastly different perspective on the situation.
“Thank you, bables.” He reached out with a finger to brush her forearm then snatched it back, as if remembering he’d no right to do such a thing anymore. “Thank you.”
She gave him a brief nod and a wave then headed back inside, where Alison lurked behind the counter with giant tell-me-everything eyes. But what was to tell? She was only getting together for drinks with the guy, hoping his sob story would make her feel better about her own. Where was the harm in that?
“Jesus.” His knees to his chest and his arms circling his bent legs, Jay rocked back and forth on his sit bones on Kimber’s living room floor and shook his head, staring at the TV blasting a version of The Frog Prince as told by Jim Henson’s Muppets. “Where the hell did you find this?”