The True Love Experiment
: Chapter 37

I stare at the door, waiting for the telltale sound of the key card, of Fizzy coming back in to regroup, find her level head, talk this out. But the hotel is so quiet this time of night, the only sound I hear is the elevator ding down the hall, and the mechanical sound of the car descending.

What the fuck just happened?

I fall back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I know Fizzy to be a lot of things—wild, brave, self-assured, assertive, intense—but I don’t know her to be flighty like this. Fizzy is the heroine who turns around to face the oncoming danger head-on. She isn’t the one who throws out bollocks excuses on her way out the door. Now I’m alone and stark naked on this sex-ravaged bed with the echo of our sounds still embedded in the four walls.

I sit up, shoving the sheets away. My former therapist’s reminder floats up into my thoughts: You don’t have to deal with it right this second, but you do have to deal with it. I’ll give Felicity Chen the same courtesy. She doesn’t have to deal with me this instant, but eventually, she will have to face this.

With deliberate patience, I shower again and get dressed. As much as I can, I put the room back together, ignoring the way images flash into my head as I straighten the sheets—the long plane of her neck as she throws her head back and cries out—as I hang up our towels—water dripping from her lips as she stares between us and watches me fuck her—as I put the champagne bottle in the recycling bin—the view of her lips kissing down the length of me.

And then I sit in the chair by the window and slowly count to one hundred and then back down to one. The entire time, I think she must be on her way back.

She must be—just now.

Maybe now. She’ll walk in and I’ll put aside this anger and we’ll talk it out, one word at a time.

But when I leave just after four, the hallways are empty; the bar downstairs is predictably dark and silent. I have no idea where she went but am not going to chase her down with a text message or a call. Fuck this. The sleepy valet takes my ticket and pulls my car around. What a bloody mess.

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