CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Worn out and now dry-eyed, Paige shoved socks and underwear into a bag along with the jeans and shirts she’d already packed. She’d changed out of her cocktail dress and high heels and into a pair of trousers and a sweater. The dress was pretty but just looking at it made her wince. It would be forever tainted after tonight. Shoving her cosmetics on top of her panties, she looked around the room for anything she’d forgotten. She was only packing for a day or two, needing the space to think. She couldn’t stay here and deal with his drunken ass when he finally stumbled home, probably smelling of whiskey and Bethany’s perfume. Sitting around and waiting for a man to come home simply wasn’t her style. Depending on the outcome of her time away, she could always come back and pack the rest of her things if she needed to.
She’d cried and now she had no more tears to give him. The man she’d seen tonight wasn’t worth her time or mourning.
But in their time together she’d seen a man who was worth it but he’d not been in attendance tonight. Did he even really exist or was he some creation that Nate put on when he needed something or someone? Had she been played by one of the greatest actors on earth? Had anything between them been true?
Will the real Nate Mason please stand up?
How this entire situation had spiraled out of control like this she didn’t have a clue. Yes, they’d argued and hadn’t been able to put it behind them, but nothing had prepared her for the way Nate had acted tonight. It was almost as if he hated her.
Maybe he did. Every time he looked at her was he reminded that the studio didn’t want him? His ego was fragile. Had this been too much for him to handle? She’d tried to make him see that it didn’t matter but it might matter a hell a lot. To him. He couldn’t see that this was just a temporary setback, not a permanent situation. She simply couldn’t be with him while he was wallowing in self-pity, lashing out indiscriminately. Watching him self-destruct would destroy her.
He had money, fame, women, and their dissolving panties. He was living the dream even though he wanted more. Maybe that was his problem. More. He couldn’t get enough of what he had. He wasn’t grateful or satisfied. Ever.
If she were honest she was a little disappointed he hadn’t come after her, begging for forgiveness, and she hated herself for giving a damn.
Out of the corner of her eye she spied his light-blue t-shirt draped over a chair. It was one of her favorites and it brought out the blue in his eyes. She picked it up and buried her face in it, inhaling deeply and drinking in his heady scent. He smelled better than any one person she’d ever met and she wasn’t sure why. He used regular soap, deodorant, and cologne that he bought in a store. Maybe it was his personal chemistry. Whatever it was, it was like a drug. She shoved the t-shirt in her bag, not allowing herself to think about what the action meant.
Opening the closet, she pulled out a pair of tennis shoes and tossed them into the bag and then started to zip it up before another thought occurred to her. She reached back into the closet and found those ugly grey-suede shoes he loved to wear. She hated these shoes and had told him so often. She shoved them in the bag with all her things before heading downstairs. It was petty and immature but that was the mood she was in.
The taxi was waiting for her on the curb, courtesy of the promise of a huge tip, but she still needed to hurry. He wouldn’t sit there forever playing games on his phone. She passed by the kitchen and then backtracked to the corner cabinet where Nate kept the liquor. He didn’t keep much on hand. Just a few bottles of wine but he’d taken to keeping flavored vodka for her and she grabbed both bottles and stuffed them in her bag. Then she uncorked the two wine bottles and poured them down the sink. If anyone was going to have a drink tonight, it was going to be her. He didn’t deserve any more booze and she hoped he had a painful hangover tomorrow.
With one last look around she exited the house, making sure to lock the door behind her. Heading for the taxi, she stopped briefly at the garbage bin on the curb. The trash service would be by in the wee hours of the morning to empty it. She threw open the top of the bin and pulled the grey shoes from her bag, tossing them in. It was where they belonged.
She kept the blue t-shirt.
She shut the lid tightly and climbed into the cab.
“The Savoy, please.”
* * *
The house was empty. Nate had known it would be. That was the point of the show he’d put on tonight but it had quickly gotten out of hand. He hadn’t meant to hurt her like that, but then it was probably the only way she would leave him. She had to be pushed. Hard. Even when she was leaving the party she hadn’t intended to break things off with him. She was simply planning on cooling off. He couldn’t allow that to happen so he’d turned brutal until she had no choice but to hit back, if only in defense.
He hadn’t realized just how painful watching her walk out of his life was going to be. It felt like someone had ripped his heart out with their bare hands. The agony was immeasurable but he’d done what he thought was right. Paige deserved to have her dream and she couldn’t if she stood by him. Now that she’d seen the worst of him she could move on, make her movie. She’d get over him.
He’d never get over her. Tonight had been the hardest thing he’d ever done.
The evening had been like some terrible nightmare that only got worse when he woke up. The one person in the world he wanted to reach for and hold and he’d shoved her away. She wouldn’t be offering him any comfort. He was solely responsible. But he’d kept his promise to her son. He’d put her first.
She’d been partly right about the stunt he’d pulled tonight, but she’d also been wrong. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about Bethany and he hadn’t fucked her tonight. When he’d seen her at the party, he’d known she was the perfect vehicle to push Paige away.
Stumbling up the stairs, he saw that the closet door was open and Paige’s knicker drawer wasn’t shoved in all the way. A quick perusal told him what he’d hoped and feared; she’d packed some belongings and left. The house felt colder without the warmth of her love and he shivered as a chill ran up his spine.
He collapsed back on the bed and rolled over so he was lying on her pillow, her scent surrounding him as if she was still there but there was nothing to hold onto. No warm, inviting curves to cuddle with. He was alone and wasn’t that what he’d intended at the beginning of the night? Mission accomplished.
She would have stood by him no matter what. He wanted her, had fallen in love with her, so he had to force her to do it. Make a clean break and don’t look back. Funny how he’d done that in the past but somehow he had a feeling he’d hurt himself far worse than ever before. Paige wasn’t just anyone. She was special. The hole in his heart was so huge he had no idea how he was even still alive. He was shocked it was still beating. He had prayed for numbness but instead he’d felt every slash of the knife acutely.
Now what do I do?
His alcohol-soaked brain didn’t have any answers, however. But he did have one last thought before he passed out from too much whiskey and sheer exhaustion.
If I did the right thing, why does it hurt so fucking much?