Page 112 of Surprisingly Us

Upstairs, in the living room, I pour myself a whiskey and drink it slowly, willing each sip to wash away the taste of her. I know it will be impossible, but I have to try.

Later, before I pass out on the couch, I check on Lettie.

She’s curled up in my bed, hands tucked under her cheek, the diamond ring still wrapped around her finger.

When I wake up the next morning, Lettie’s gone. I check for a note, then my phone for a text, anything that might give an indication as to where her head is at. I find nothing.

The shirt she wore is folded and sitting on my dresser. Her dress and heels are gone.

The toothbrush she used is still neatly tucked into the cup next to mine.

It’s ridiculous the rush I get from seeing it there, but then I do a double-take.

Looped around Lettie’s toothbrush is her engagement ring.

Fuck.

CHAPTER 33

Colette

This morning, I padded down the dock on bare feet, carrying my heels, cursing Rhys’s name. I’d gotten a few double-takes from passersby but mostly people didn’t find it odd that a woman was in a formal dress at six o’clock on a Saturday morning.

It may not be unusual for most, but it was certainly something I’d never done. And the fact that I couldn’t find my underwear before I left…that made for a stressful exit from the cab.

Every time I think about last night, a new emotion surfaces.

Last night I was angry and hurt by Rhys’s sneak attack proposal. I’m still angry with him, and hurt by his lack of trust, but it’s not the proposal that I keep replaying in my mind. It’s what happened after.

The memory of his tongue sweeping over me for the first time is so engrained that I swear I can still feel him there between my legs. Licking. Sucking. Filling me with his thick fingers. It was a vulnerable position to be in, spread open for him like that, but Rhys made it feel like the most natural thing in the world.

And the way he talked to me? It was straight out of the spicy romance novel I’m reading for Chloe’s book club.

Spread your legs wider, Princess, and I’ll fuck your pretty cunt with my tongue.

Can you take two for me, Princess?

So fucking tight, Princess.

I didn’t know guys actually talked like that. Or that I would like it so much.

But I can’t let one orgasm, albeit mind-blowing and the only one I’ve received that didn’t require an electric charge, blind me to the fact that I’m furious with him.

When I stood over a sleeping Rhys this morning, I felt the desire to place my hands around his neck and squeeze, maybe throw a cup of water on him, but then my vengeful thoughts took a wrong turn when I was distracted by the sight of his naked arms and torso. And the top button of his pants that was unfastened.

I’m starting to wonder if all his pants’ top buttons are faulty or if it’s operator error?

But, god, he looked perfectly disheveled and peaceful lying there so I let him sleep and decided leaving the engagement ring hanging off the toothbrush he gave me last night would send a clear message.

We’re done.

And now all these thoughts and emotions from the last twenty-four hours are swirling in my brain as I move around the practice studio.

It’s Saturday and no one else is here. That’s why I came, because I knew I’d have the space to myself.

The chaos in my head matches the allegro style of music piece I’ve selected, so it’s easy to let all my emotions from last night carry me through a stylistic jumping sequence. I’m not even paying attention to the specific steps, I let my wounded heart guide me, and my feet follow its lead.

My movements feel different today.

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