The warm sun on my face woke me. I reached out my arms and rolled to my back, tingling and aching in all the good places. When I opened my eyes, I sought out Gray but he wasn’t in bed. The lingering scent of boiled over water on a hot stovetop hit me, and it occurred to me he might be a morning person.

Ugh, yet another strike against that sexy bastard.

I rolled over and grabbed his T-shirt off the floor. Mine had been destroyed, so he’d have to survive if I borrowed his. I slipped it on and went in search of my underwear.

“I’ll take some of that tea, please,” I called out as I extricated the lace from my leggings and slipped them on. I spun to face him with a smile that died on my lips when I turned to find the kitchen empty.

“Gray?” I called out looking around for a flash of movement. Nothing.

A mug of tea sat on the counter, but so did his cell phone. Where could he be?

I wandered into a laundry room, the wine room, back into his bedroom for the bathroom. Even the guest room was empty.

“Where could he be?” If there was work, I’d be there too. He likely wouldn’t leave without his cell phone.

I went back to the kitchen and held my hand near the kettle. It was still warm, but not hot. Then I grabbed the mug and took a sip. That wasn’t even warm. And damn, that man needed to add sugar to this. I pulled the tea bag out and tossed it in the trash. So he’d been interrupted while he was drinking tea, but before he could remove the bag. That was a very short window for English Breakfast.

I looked around and caught a pad of paper and pen on the end of the counter. It hadn’t been there the night before. The beautiful man had left me a note.

I picked up the creamy white notepad and scanned it. I blinked and then re-read it.

---

My Dearest Isobel,

If you are reading this, then I’m gone. Last night when you came to see me I had just realized I am likely going mad. I can’t put you through that, nor can I expect you to care for me after our brief acquaintance. I’m going back to England, and then maybe to America, for medical care. It’s likely the end and I don’t want to put you through that.

Please know the few days we spent together were some of the most treasured of my life. And last night was perfect. I hope you were satisfied as well.

Hope to see you in the next life,

Love

DG

---

I re-read the note a third time. “I hope you were satisfied as well.” Like he was requesting a five-star rating on a delivery order. What the fuck?

I tossed the notepad on the counter and stalked through his flat once more. He wasn’t there, but all of his stuff was. His books, everything. Why would he just leave it all and not say anything?

I didn’t consider myself a difficult woman to talk to, or reason with. With a huff, I grabbed my wallet, keys, and phone, and headed toward the door. It was closed but not locked. He didn’t even bother to lock it with me still asleep in his bed? Anger began to form in my gut, eating away all the post-orgasm euphoria. That bastard would get an earful if I ever saw him again.

Oh shit, pants.

I shimmied into them and gave his flat one last lingering glance, purposefully avoiding the entryway where he and I shared a few memories, and exited. I closed the door gently behind me and went to the elevator with a knot in my throat. Damn this hurt. Why did I put myself through this? I could have left last night when he’d asked me to a dozen times and saved myself this embarrassment and pain.

I rubbed my chest as if I could get rid of the ache there from the outside. It didn’t budge. Damn bastard. I wanted to think of more colorful curse words for him but the bell dinged and I stepped inside the elevator. The lobby was empty, not even the doorman greeted me when I stepped off the elevator.

Like the whole damn building was conspiring against me.

I walked home, not wanting to even look at Michael, because he had a hand in this as well. Dragging me to Gray’s place last night. And he’d been right to seek out help for his friend, but damn it, I could have woken up in my own bed, without this ache. I rubbed at it again. You also wouldn’t have had the best sex of your life last night either.

Shut up, I grumbled to myself. A passing man eyed me warily. I glared for no other reason than I wanted everyone else to feel as shitty as I did this morning.

I made it home and again crawled into my bed, letting the chemical spring-scented sheets remind me of home. And Jakey.

I shuffled my arms from under the covers and dialed his number. It took a few seconds for the usual click through but then a busy tone answered. Not once did I ever get a busy tone when he was out of town on a mission. Maybe he was trying to call me. I hung up and waited, staring at the white face for it to light up. Nothing. Absolutely nothing for twenty minutes.

I tried again. Still busy.

What the hell? I threw the phone down the bed to land in a pool of covers before tucking my arms back under and clutching the blankets to my chin.

All men were off limits today. I rolled to my back and stared at the ceiling, the movement giving me a twinge in my nether regions. Even my own body was betraying me with reminders of him.

Instead of lying in bed all day and wallowing, I shoved the covers back and went to the kitchen. My often-neglected coffee pot sat there calling my name. If Gray didn’t want to be in my life, then screw him. His loss.

You didn’t want him in your life first. While technically true, I shoved the thoughts away and focused on the coffee. Last night showed me we had a lot more chemistry than I’d originally expected. Dorian could be irascible and also sweet. Kind and rough. A juxtaposition I needed in a partner. And for a brief moment as I’d rolled over in his bed and remembered last night I thought he might be that partner. That would teach me for making decisions. Back to one night stands and easy lays from now on.

I grabbed a jar of Nutella and popped up on the counter to wait for the coffee to brew. Two spoonfuls in the pot hissed its completion.

The scent of the dark roast I found at a local shop warmed and cheered me a little. Like super-hot water, coffee was another go to perk-up method. With no parents and only my brother to raise me, and me to raise him, I’d developed whatever coping mechanisms I could to handle stress and unhappiness. And being all alone in the world from the time we were both sixteen, we’d had more than our fair share of ups and downs.

After our parents died in a plane crash, we’d lived together, in our family home, for almost six months before child protective services got us. When we were separated, I thought neither of us would survive it. But we did, and we even grew into semi-productive adults. I scooped another bite of the hazelnut chocolate spread. Absolutely no dysfunction here.

It bothered me more that I couldn’t get ahold of Jake than that Gray had up and run away. For a flash of a second I had thought Dorian was my Prince Charming.

When Jake and I were kids we’d play king and queen outside in our tree house. We’d rule together as brother and sister, and I would have my Prince Charming to marry, and he would have his Fairy Princess. As usual, our kingdom would be a peaceful and benevolent one. Of course, that lasted until my brother discovered video games, and I got into ballet.

That tree house was still in use by the family who bought our house at auction after we were taken away. When I’d grown brave enough to face the memories, I was happy to see the kids playing there.

The coffee let out a faint sizzle, and I poured a cup before it burned from being left in the pot too long.

Not bothering with milk or sugar, I sat back on the counter and sipped it black. It suited my mood that way. Bitter and hot.

Wow, I thought. One man runs away from me and I turn into the bitter old witch in the forest, waiting for passing children in my gingerbread house.

I decided I really wasn’t going to wallow, and I finished the spoon I’d already loaded with chocolate, downed the rest of the hot coffee, and went to shower.

After that I put on makeup, got dressed, grabbed my things, and headed outside. I lived in Paris, one of the most beautiful cities in the world. And after Romeo and Juliet in a few weeks, maybe I’d take a job in another city to get away from the memories here. I should savor the ankle-breaking cobblestone streets while I could.

I headed the opposite direct of my home, and Gray’s, as well as the theater. When I first arrive in a new city, I spend a lot of time wandering, getting lost, figuring out how to get where I needed. Today, I did it for the pleasure of it. I wandered the city’s tunnels and avenues until the memory of Gray was so far in the back of my mind I could barely remember the damnable spicy cologne that made me want to bite him.

A bookstore caught my eye, but as I ran my fingers across the spines, I saw Gray sitting on his living room floor holding a stack of books.

“Get your shit together, woman. He is one man, you spent a few days together. Get over it.” Talking to myself probably isn’t a good sign.

I sighed and continued on, not going in for fear he would haunt me more inside the shop.

My favorite stationary store sat on the corner a few blocks down, so I decided to head there. The heavenly scent of fresh baked bread reached me from across the street so now I had two absolutely non-Gray related stops I could make.

I went inside the stationary store first and puttered around pen racks and stacks of notebooks. On the back wall, books lined a tall shelf. Lovely, leather-bound journals. I petted the spines of those as well, which were already developing a beautiful patina from other customers. I had no need for journaling or I might have been tempted.

I bought a few pens, some fountain pen refill ink, and crossed the street to the bread shop. As I entered, I tripped over the step in the doorway and fell right into a man’s arms. He caught me by the elbows and helped me stand. I glanced up to say thank you only to jerk back. “Hello, Mikey.”

“Hello, Miss.” He smiled but I scowled. The smile slowly fell from his lips. “What have I done?”

“I thought you’d be with Gray right now,” I said, instead of answering his question.

He chuckled. “I thought he would still be with you right now.”

I shifted the bag of supplies to my purse and rubbed my hands together, cracking the knuckles, a habit I couldn’t get rid of when my anxiety was high. “If you didn’t take him somewhere, and he’s not with me, where is he?”