CHAPTER 16
Lauren
In a blissful state between sleep and waking, I smiled and rolled onto my side in my bed. I’d never known sex could be like what I’d experienced with Graham, and loved that my discovery had been literally at his hands. Hands. Tongue. Cock. I wondered why more studies weren’t done on how to attain quality orgasms. Now that I’d had one, I didn’t want to go back to what I was able to produce on my own.
One might argue that both released the same chemicals into the body, but the difference defied conventional descriptions. I tried to imagine what my professors would have said had I chosen that topic for my dissertation. Supporting data required more than anecdotal evidence.
Or perhaps seeing my perma-smile would have been sufficient. Really, who could argue with that?
I threw my arm out, seeking Graham. I’d fallen asleep in his arms and had thought I’d wake to the same. Reluctantly I opened my eyes to the bright late morning sun. He wasn’t in the bed anymore.
I cocked my head and listened for the shower. Would either of us be able to walk later if I joined him in there? It was a risk I would have taken had I heard water running.
Still glowing from our marathon of lovemaking, I sat up and stretched. I caught a glimpse of myself in the bureau mirror. My hair was wildly tussled, my face pink and happy. I looked exactly as sated as I felt.
Knowing Graham, he was probably out for a run. Although he indulged in sweets occasionally, there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him because he worked out daily.
Deciding he was a better person than I was, I trudged to the bathroom to shower. Beneath the hot spray, I planned the start of the day. If he hadn’t already made something, I’d make breakfast for us. After that, we’d talk. I prayed that by then I’d have the words to convince him that he was so much better of a person than he gave himself credit for. Somehow I’d find a way to make him feel as right with himself as he made me feel with myself.
On impulse, I applied makeup—not because Graham hadn’t seen me a thousand times without it, but because I felt beautiful and sexy and wanted to reflect that.
I shook my head at my conservative underclothing. None of it represented how I felt. Did I dare go without? I’d never. I didn’t have a dress with me. I did, however, have an oversized sweater that could double as a mid-thigh dress if I were brave enough to wear it as one.
Bra or no bra?
I decided the likelihood of us leaving the chalet that day was slim so I slid only the sweater on and walked out of my bedroom. There was no sign of Graham in the house so I started a pot of coffee. A moment later, I was blissfully sipping at a cup of some while hunting for my phone.
After locating it, I curled up on the living room couch, put on some soft music and checked my messages.
Jack wanted to know how Graham was doing. I made a face at the phone. Really, Jack? I was tempted to tell him that Graham was surprisingly just fine—better than fine and that we didn’t need either him or Hope in our lives.
I sent Graham a quick text asking him what time he’d be back so I would know when to start breakfast. He didn’t answer. Possibly because he couldn’t hear his phone’s notifications while he was running. There was also a chance he’d left his phone somewhere in the chalet.
One cup of coffee became two. I snacked on a leftover muffin while waiting for him to either answer me or return.
Eventually I wandered to the front room of the chalet and looked out at the driveway. Graham’s car was gone. My stomach tightened nervously, but I told myself I was being silly. Graham wouldn’t leave me—not after what we’d shared. Even if he wasn’t in love with me, he cared about me. This wasn’t a one-night stand scenario where he would run off after having gotten what he wanted.
He hadn’t even been the one who’d initiated the sex.
Telling myself I was in danger of once again focusing on the worst-case scenario instead of letting myself have this day of wonder, I made my way to his bedroom. I didn’t immediately open the door. I stood there, holding the doorknob, telling myself that last night had been possible only because I didn’t let my fears ruin it.
With a defiant flip of my hair, I swung the door wide open. His bed was unmade and empty. I rushed to the closet then to the bathroom. His luggage was gone.
Gone.
In a dazed state, I made my way back to my phone and checked for a message from him. Nothing. Just the message from Jack asking how Graham was.
I laughed without humor. I thought I knew him, but I guess I didn’t.
I didn’t know how he was, where he was, or why he had left.
I sank back onto the couch, fighting back nausea as tears welled in my eyes. I wanted to text him, but I’d already sent him a message. I didn’t want to write anything while my emotions were so raw and confused.
I was a science driven person who didn’t put a lot of stock in things that couldn’t be measured or quantified—except when it came to Graham. I believed in him as I believed in almost nothing else.
Why did you leave, Graham? I didn’t understand.
And I didn’t know what I was supposed to do now.