Page 82 of Crushed By Love

“Is that all?” His eyes narrow.

“When do we leave for the airport?”

He’s silent for a long moment. “A car is picking us up in an hour.”

So that’s it. We’re almost done here.

I nod. “Can’t wait.”

He steps in, pressing me against the countertop. “An hour is enough time for sex.”

His words make my skin crawl. This is exactly who he really is and I can’t forget it. I want to push him off but instead I consider his proposal for a second. Do I want the last time I have sex with him to be last night when I thought I was falling in love? Or do I want it to be today when I know his true character? I’d like nothing more than to erase any stupid notions of love, so today it is. This way it ends on my terms.

I press my hips against his and slide my hands up his shirt. He leans in for a kiss but I move my lips to his neck instead. I’m not going to kiss his lips ever again. I don’t care if he doesn’t like it or if he thinks it’s weird. More than likely, he won’t even notice.

And I’m right. We fuck like animals, taking what we want right there on the kitchen countertop, no kissing necessary, and no love needed either.

Just how he likes it.

Thirty-Three

We take the chartered jet to Boston first and the whole time Ethan leans back in the leather seat like he’s as comfortable up in the air as anywhere. I’ve never been on an airplane before so the experience terrifies me, but I won’t let him see my fear. I’ve shut myself off to revealing anything right now. Anything at all.

Besides the pilots, it’s just the two of us. His eyes are heavy and assessing. Maybe he just wants to induct me into the mile high club but I’m not interested. I’m done.

I already said goodbye to his body.

Soon I’ll say goodbye to the rest of him.

So I look out the window instead, anticipating the life I’m about to start. A life that is no longer at the mercy of other people. A life where I can find my own family instead of having to hope someone will want me for theirs. A life where I get to choose what I spend my time on and who to spend it with. It’s a short flight to Boston so it all starts soon.

When we land, he asks if I want him to drop me off at the hotel.

We’re standing on the tarmac of the private part of the airport, the humidity wrapped around us like a wet blanket. Boston is already a lot hotter than Nantucket, a stark reminder that that chapter of my life has closed.

I study him for a long moment, imagining saying yes and seeing what happens from there. But I know better now. It was a hard lesson to learn but boy did he teach me.

“You need to get back to Manhattan,” I remark.

He nods, his hands tucked into his pockets, his face hitched toward the cloudless sky. And then he pulls something from his pocket and hands it to me.

It’s a business card.

His name, phone number, and email address are engraved underneath the King company logo and his job title.

It takes everything in me not to throw the business card in his face.

“Call me,” he says, eyes hard on mine. “Or text. Email. Just . . . don’t be a stranger.”

I slip the card into my jean pocket and glare at him. “I thought this was goodbye?”

His lips thin. “For now.”

I step back. “Not forever? You got what you wanted didn’t you?”

The awkwardness is almost as thick as the humidity. “And what do you think I wanted?”

There are a lot of things I should say right now, but the one that I blurt out is perhaps the worst one of all. “To fuck your ex-girlfriend’s lookalike and get her out of your system.”

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