Page 32 of Taste of Addiction

“No!”

I am too old for this high school jealousy drama, but I guess I am just that—jealous. I stomp into the bathroom and slam the door. I have a splitting headache and I just need to find some ibuprofen or Tylenol to take the edge off the pain. I dig under the sink but only find cleaning products. Then I try the storage closet. Nothing. Shit! I cannot survive the day without anything to cope.

I splash my face with cold water and glance up into the mirror to see the reflection of a girl in pain. Physical and emotional pain.

I hear the sound of the doorknob turning and see Graham lean into the doorway.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“You happen to say that a lot these days, Graham. Always sorry. Yet no real solution on ending the cycle. I’m not sure how much I can take before breaking.”

He exhales. “Everything I’m doing right now is for appearance purposes. To keep you safe. This is all for you.”

“Appearance purposes?” I ask, feeling more and more stupid with every word he speaks.

“Angela, I have to publicly make it known that I’m with Sophia. I may not have the paparazzi setting up camp outside the door, but there are reporters following me around and trying to catch Sophia and me together.”

“America’s favorite couple,” I mumble, leaning my butt against the vanity. “Hottest bachelor in Portland engaged to America’s sweetheart. You guys are basically the power couple everyone wants to live vicariously through.” Lovely.

“You are the only woman I ever want,” he says, stalking toward me. “Ever. But I need to take this trip and get Sophia out of the state. So a fake vacation is what’s necessary.”

“Why not get me out of the state?”

“I can’t be away from you.”

“How do you even figure that if you’re going on the plane with her?”

“I’m coming right back. We won’t be gone long.”

“I just don’t get it, Graham. Why do you have to go through all of these extravagant gestures…with her?”

“I would love to hide you away from the world and keep you safely in a box where no one can hurt you, baby. But you withdrawing from classes would not be the natural thing you would do. So you have to be in Portland in some capacity.”

It’s true. But I don’t like this plan of his—at all. He basically came here to escort Sophia for a rendezvous trip to who knows where. And even if that is not technically true, that is how I feel, and he can’t make me change my mind otherwise.

“Enjoy your trip,” I bite out.

Graham steps closer to me, pulls me into his arms despite my reluctance, and kisses me hard on the lips. “I”—kiss—“love”—kiss—“you.”

“If only love was enough,” I choke out. Tears fall from my eyes, and I push him away to get him to leave. “You’re going to miss your flight, I assume. So go.”Enjoy the damn sunrise.

I follow him out of the room, and we make our way to the front door of the house. Sophia is leaning against the front door, reapplying her powder foundation with a little cosmetic mirror. She looks flawless.

I give Graham one last kiss and hug before he slips out the door with Sophia. She grips his elbow for support, so as not to fall on the slick surface with her sky-high heels. I wipe at my tears, and Collins offers me a tissue from beside me. I didn’t even realize he was there.

“Thanks, Collins,” I sniffle.

“Of course, Miss McFee. For what it’s worth—and you know I never interfere or say too much—but you areitfor the boss. Don’t doubt that.”

I nod and continue my silent crying as I watch the car pull away with a part of my heart inside. How can I continue to keep going about my day when my thoughts are going to be tainted with the image of Sophia trying to get her hands on my man? I may trust Graham, but I sure as hell don’t trust her.

Collins waits beside me, probably in fear that I will crumble to the floor in a sobbing mess. I pull myself together, roll my shoulders, and seek out some relief for the tension building behind my eyes.

“I have a splitting headache over all of this. I really need some medicine. Can you please get me some?”

“Of course, ma’am. I’ll call Dr. Saber and see what I can do.”

“He’s not my physician, Collins.” And he already was reluctant to give me anything after I hurt my palm and after the hotel debacle. There’s no getting him to cave and prescribe me something more powerful than the watered-down drugstore shelf bottles—which I’ve already depleted. “I just need something OTC right now. Maybe something extra strength? Do you have anything here or do any of the men have anything?”

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