Page 66 of Heartfelt Pain
“You’ve dropped off the gift and eaten a slice of cake. I can call the car and you can call it a day.”
“I’m fine.” A little tired now that he mentions it,but I’m not going to be the person who leaves the party first. “Now go away so I can pee.”
He leans against the wall, opposite the bathroom door.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’ve stood outside while you’ve done a lot worse things than pee,” he mutters.
I’m a guest here, otherwise I’d slam the door behind me.
A deep sigh escapes me as I stand in the middle of the bathroom. The vanity is neat and tidy and there’s a frosted window over the toilet letting in afternoon sunshine.
For a second it’s peaceful and maybe Trevino is right. My clothes itch and my feet are sore. I love my black trousers and stilettos combo, but as I stare at the mirror, I realize I wore business smart to a toddler’s birthday.
Everyone wore nice outfits, but they fit the vibe. Dresses and sweaters, low kitten heels, or white sneakers. The men tucked their shirts in, but the top buttons are loose, and no ties in sight.
For the first time in five years, my armor doesn’t work.
I’m stomping around in five-inch heels and pinstripes.
There’s a reason I don’t mingle with people outside of Fujimori’s. I can control my image there, but outside of that safe space, I avoid areas where I could run into people.
Why did I come here?
There’s a knock. “Open up, Ren.”
“Abe?” I open the door.
“Move.” Russ wiggles in.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Are you okay?” Russ asks. I don’t like how she peers up at me. I’m not damaged enough to show physical scars. Her worried hazel eyes don’t leave my face, though.
“I’m fine. Why did you break into the bathroom?” I ask.
“I don’t think you’re fine,” Abe replies. He’s inches away from me because the three of us huddle in between the sinkand bathtub. “I think you’re hiding in the bathroom because you’re overwhelmed.”
My head jerks back. “I’m not overwhelmed.”
Russ bites her lip. “You look a little tired.”
The face in the mirror is a bit dry and pale. Sundays are normally for facial sheet masks and copious amounts of Pepsi.
“I’m fine,” I assure them.
“Coming to your ex-boyfriend’s house is never easy,” Russ says.
My lips part, my breath catches. No words come out.
I haven’t spotted Roma yet. And if I’m being honest it’s not something I’ve worried about.
I’ll simply tell him to back the fuck up if I see him. He’s done considerably well following instructions these days.
He came to my place two nights ago. I made him crawl to me and then he went down on me before fucking me on all fours. Even with his chest to my back, I gave him orders and he obeyed every single one of them. He moved his hips like I told him to. He tortured my nipples when I moved his hands over them.
“It’s fine,” I say.
