Page 121 of Baby Girl
As quick as I can manage, I put in my request for a car, and thankfully there is only an eight-minute wait.
Armed with that knowledge, I pull the door open, stick my head out, and try to gauge which way the exit is. The noise seems to be coming from the right, so I head in that direction, passing several rooms with closed doors.
It’s at this moment that my bladder lets me know that I really need to use a bathroom.Sorry, body, you have to wait at least another forty minutes before you’ll be getting any relief.
Padding down the hallway, I’m glad for the long narrow rug that hides my footsteps on the wood floors. The closer I get to the end of the hallway, the louder the noise gets and the lower my stomach sinks.
I’m within a few feet of what I can see is the main living area, with a huge brown leather couch. I stare at it for a few moments because it looks familiar.
Really fucking familiar.
But how?
I’ve never been here before, so how could I have—
The pictures on SugarLife, the ones they sent when we first started chatting. They were sitting on this couch when they took those photos.
My heart does some sort of twisting, convulsing thing in my chest, and I press my hand into it, clutching all my things a littletighter. I can totally imagine them sitting on the couch together, watching something manly or whatever. Darcy would be spread out, lounging on the couch, while Hudson would be relaxed, leaning into the overstuffed back.
Derek would be in the corner, arms across the back, one ankle resting on the other knee. Xavier wouldn’t be sitting, not on the couch. Yeah, at the apartment he’d sat with me, held me in his arms. But I think that was only because I was there. He is more of adrag a chair from the table off to the sidekind of man.
Swallowing, I force the mental image away and continue to assess the area, looking for the exit. Almost directly opposite me is a doorway, with an archway on either side. I can only see the edge of the one on the left, but the right appears to lead to a hallway. From the sound of a spoon tapping on ceramic coming from the left, I’m going to assume it’s the kitchen and that’s where Derek is.
Pretending that the sound of the Sunday morning news is my entrance soundtrack, I take the few steps into Derek’s living room. Our eyes connect right away over his kitchen counter. My tongue immediately tries to roll up and slide down the back of my throat, because fuck.
He’s standing in his kitchen, shirtless, holding a bowl and a spoon, preparing to eat another mouthful, except now he’s paused. We stay frozen like that, neither of us saying a word, for an almost uncomfortable amount of time.
His gaze rakes down my body, and I’m really freaking aware of my bare legs and that my makeup is probably smudged all over my face and my hair looks like a bird has used it to create a nest.
When his eyes make it to mine, there is concern in them, and I can practically see the words he wants to say forming in his head. I’m proven right when he starts to open his mouth, but I can’t hear it.
I don’t want to hear anything from him. Not right now. Not like this. Not when I feel like there is a tiny hammer inside my head and a vague feeling of gross everywhere else. I won’t be able to hold my own in any conversation we have right now. Everything feels a little too raw and a little too close to the surface.
“My Uber is waiting for me,” I blurt out, cutting him off before he can say anything.
Derek shuts his mouth and nods, eyebrows furrowed as I weave my way toward the hall, not really turning my back on him. He lowers his bowl to the countertop and steps out of the kitchen.
Holy gray, low-slung, sweatpants.
Derek shoves his hands into his pockets as he leans his shoulder against the closed door, simply watching me. I heave a sigh of relief when I can see down the hallway and there is very clearly a front door at the end.
Doing my best not to drop anything, I jerk a thumb at the door. “I’m going to…”
I don’t bother to finish, just turn and dash to the door, fight with the locks for a moment, then pull it open and slip out. As I close the door, I chance a final look and find Derek at the end of the hallway.
If his shoulders are curved in and his eyes are a little sad, I couldn’t tell you, because I close the door on all of that. I have to. Otherwise I’m going to give in and take him back.
And that’s not something I want.
At all.
I don’t want him back.
I don’t want any of them back.
Chapter 65
Emery
