Chapter 25

Sammi

2:35 PM SATURDAY

The bike growls and hums beneath me, sending vibrations through my arms.

I’m not traditionally the motorcycle type. Anyone with a brain and a search engine can tell you they’re very unsafe. Statistically speaking, definitely not worth the risk of climbing on one.

Strangely, though, being on one now feels totally right.

Maybe it’s just because of what’s behind me.

I absolutely refuse to give in to the tears threatening my eyes. No way in hell am I going to cry right now.

The past day has been a living hell, but through it all, I’ve maintained my composure.

I’m damn sure not about to cry now. Not because of Lachlan fucking Williams.

I pull harder on the throttle, hearing the engine roar in response. My thighs cling tightly to the steel.

The buildings all fly by in a blur, tires squealing in protest.

I twist even harder, feeling the tread catch on the cracked street.

I’m trying to forget—and failing miserably. Which is funny, given that Lock seems to think I’ve got a real knack for it.

This entire trip has become a disaster. One big fucking shit show.

Every time I learn something new, it only gets worse.

I’m still reeling in the wake of my own memories.

Not to mention the things that Lock just said.

Even the roar of the motorcycle can’t seem to drown them out. They play on a loop in my mind. Word for word.

While I’d definitely never admit it to him, I’m fucking hurt.

Sure, I’m also angry. Definitely confused.

Mostly though, I’m just hurt.

I try to focus on my anger, my outrage at his nerve. I hate that he acts the way he does, like he knows me.

Most of all, though, I hate the fact that he does.

That he’s right.

I have been holding myself back.

This isn’t some great big secret like he assumes it is, though. I behave the way I do, because I have no choice but to. It’s not something that he can ever truly understand.

Being a woman in my field is rough. There’s always some man there, just waiting for me to slip. Waiting for me to act the part of the irrational woman so that he can point and shout, “Told you!”

It may be the twenty-first century, but try telling that to scientists.

It’s a fucking boys club. Always has been.

Stepping foot into a lab is like traveling to the land where feminism never happened. If you’re a woman and you want to succeed there, you play your role.

I can’t let go. Ever.

If I do, I’ll never get another research project. Then it will all be for nothing.

It’s a constant struggle to maintain control.

And, okay, maybe I have taken it a bit far from time to time, but it got me where I am today.

It got me to that ceremony, award in hand.

Though that’s a hard thing to cling to, considering said award seems to have disappeared. One of many things lost in my drunken haze.

It got me Eggs.

But I’ve very likely lost that as well.

My hand aches, and I realize just how hard I’m squeezing the throttle.

I relax my grip with a force of will, breathing deeply as I do.

Maybe tearing around Bangkok while I figure this out isn’t the best of plans.

I pull off the road, killing the bike.

The silence is deafening, but I need it to think.

Hesitantly, I reach into my pocket, pulling out my phone.

I already know what’s waiting for me there, but I feel the need to check anyway.

Eggs.

There are literally dozens of missed calls from him.

It occurs to me for the first time that he may now be genuinely worried. I know I would be.

Even still, I’m not sure that I have the courage to put his mind at ease.

I check the clock. 1:20 p.m.

I’m supposed to meet up with Eggs in ten minutes for a late pre-wedding lunch.

The idea feels almost silly now, considering there may not even be a wedding.

Not after what I did.

A million images flash through my mind at the thought.

Memories of Lock.

After three years of trying to pretend he doesn’t exist, he’s now the sole occupant of my thoughts.

I can’t seem to escape him. He’s everywhere today.

Especially in my own head.

I see him smiling, laughing. I see light shining off of his naked body.

I’ll admit, I still feel a flush of heat at that last one.

Ten minutes until I’m supposed to meet up with my fiancé, and I’m practically wet at the thought of another man.

I’m the fucking worst.

And then there’s the matter of the actual wedding.

Can I even marry Eggs?

Did Lock and I go through with our own wedding?

My thoughts spin rapidly in circles, threatening to drive me mad.

I may or may not already be married. How am I supposed to go see Eggs?

I have no idea how I’ll even begin to explain this to him. Or, for that matter, if I should.

I revisit the memory of the monastery again. Reliving every detail: the tattoo, the blowjob. It’s like I’m there again.

Mostly though, I focus on the end.

On Lock, yelling for me to marry him, and me, the one down on my knees.

I still can’t believe that I said yes.

In the memory, though, I was so sure. That’s what really throws me.

I wanted to marry him.

To be his.

I don’t think that Eggs even crossed my mind.

Don’t even get me started on my guilt over that one.

I unlock my phone screen again, entering the name of the restaurant into my GPS. The one that Eggs is probably sitting at right now.

Waiting for me.

My phone responds immediately.

Ten minutes away.

I could make it. Hell, I’d actually even be on time.

My hand hesitates over the throttle, though, my heart picking up speed at the very thought of going there.

Lock’s words echo through my mind, stirring up thoughts I’d rather not ponder on.

Things like whether or not I’m just playing it safe by marrying Eggs.

Questions about my love for him.

I can see now that a large part of my life has been constructed purely for appearance. I’m just not sure exactly how much.

I sit for another minute, repeatedly running the same ground in my mind, getting no closer to any real answers.

I can practically feel my futures being divided, lines being drawn for all the possibilities there are.

Finally, I give up the ghost, starting the bike up again and pulling out onto the road.

I still have no idea where I’m going, but I feel sure I’ll know what to do when I arrive.