Page 55 of Seductive Swimmer
25
Savannah
When my alarm goes off at five the next morning, I curse aloud and slam my hand down to turn it off. I’ve been awake for several minutes, although can you call it awake when you didn’t truly ever fall asleep? Every time I dozed off last night, I would roll over and reach for Alex. When the realization would hit that he wasn’t there, and that I pushed him away, I would start to cry all over again. You would think there would be no tears left inside of me, yet somehow, they keep coming.
Somewhere around two am I had to accept the harsh truth. I was alone, I was an idiot, and it was all my fault.
I pushed away a man who acted with the best of intentions. He didn’t set out to disrespect me or ignore my feelings, he only wanted to help. And I threw it back in his face, like a willful child having a tantrum. He has been telling me how he feels all along, just not with his words, but with his actions. And I’ve been too stupid or too blind to realize it.
I drag myself out of bed and go through the motions of preparing for the pool. A large part of me wants to skip my swim and go back to bed, but I also want to see Alex. I’m still very uncertain of how to proceed. I’m unsure of how to help him understand why I was upset while also asking for his forgiveness for my behavior. I wish I knew how to reconcile my discomfort over feeling like I owe him for Molly, but I don’t. What I do know is that I miss him so deeply, I’m willing to try and work it out.
Only he’s not at the pool. He doesn’t show the entire time I’m swimming laps, or when I’m in the hot tub, or when I’m showered, changed, and leaving an hour later. While I was swimming, I thought about texting him to apologize and ask if I can see him, but after how I left things yesterday, I feel like he deserves better than a message on his phone.
But when I get to the office later that morning, he isn’t there, either. The entire office feels far too quiet and somber without his presence. Even Rhonda barely looks up at me when I walk by. But that could just be me overthinking things.
I sit down at my desk and turn on my laptop, confused and uncertain over what’s going on. I suppose it’s possible he’s just working from home, but something doesn’t feel right. That feeling intensifies when Brayden opens his office door and asks me to come in. He looks worried, which only makes me feel even more anxious.
“Did you talk to Alex last night?” he begins, his hands steepled on his desk in front of him.
I try not to fidget, unsure of how much to reveal.
“Umm, no, not last night. We, ah, saw each other earlier in the day.”
“Oh. Did he seem…was he…well, was he okay when you saw him?” The way Brayden is hesitating on his words makes me realize he’s also got something to share. Now my worry ratchets up toDEFCON1 levels of alarm.
“No, not really. We had a disagreement,” I say bluntly. “What happened, Brayden?”
Brayden reaches his hand behind his neck and rubs it. “I’m not really sure. He called our place early yesterday evening. I was out at the store, but he talked to Lorelai. Apparently he said something about having to go to England. Something to do with his mother. Lord knows she’s the only thing that would make him go back there. Lo said he sounded drunk, so she wasn’t entirely certain what he meant. And when I tried to call him back, he never answered.”
Oh my God.
“Did he say anything else?” I can hear the panic creeping into my voice. Immediately my thoughts are torn between concern for him, and concern for Molly. Surely he wouldn’t leave her at home, or worse, take her back to the shelter, would he?
“Nothing.”
I stand up abruptly. “I’m sorry, Brayden, I have to go. I’ll finish my work from home.” I’m out the door before he can say anything in response, and I don’t care. My first stop is Alex’s building, but the doorman says he left early this morning. When I ask about the dog, all he can tell me is that some guy picked her up earlier. My heart is in my throat. Alex is gone, and I have no idea where Molly is.
Standing on the sidewalk outside of his building, I try to steady my breaths, fully aware that hyperventilating won’t help anything right now. Why did I have to make such a big deal of things yesterday? Now Alex is on a plane, going home to parents who don’t love him the way he deserves to be loved, thinking I’m angry at him, and my dog is nowhere to be found. Everything is falling apart, and my desperate need for independence in all areas of my life is seeming more and more ridiculous as the moments tick by.
When my phone rings, I startle before fumbling to get it out of my purse. I’m praying it’s Alex, but it isn’t. It’s Bianca. I answer, even though talking to her is the last thing on my mind right now.
“I can’t talk right now,” I sob, “I need to find—”
“Molly? Because she’s currently curled up with Bandit on a dog bed in front of me and I would love to know why,” Bianca interjects.
“Thank goodness.”
I break down into full tears right there in the middle of the sidewalk, not caring who sees me. I hear the doorman hurry over, asking if I’m okay, and I manage to wave him off and walk away. Stagger is more accurate. When I reach a nearby bench, I sink down.
“Tell me how you got her?”
“Dex got a call from Alex last night asking if we would come and get her this morning. I thought it was some nice surprise he was doing for you, until we got to Alex’s apartment and saw an empty bottle of whiskey on the table and clothes all over the floor of his room. He obviously left in a hurry, and for some reason he apparently didn’t call you. Care to tell me why?”
Bianca’s inner reporter is showing in her questioning tone, and every word hits me like a ball of ice to the heart.
“Can I come over and see her? I promise to tell you everything,” I whisper into the phone.
“Of course you can. I’ll make some tea.”
