Page 109 of Devious Love
I miss him so much. If not for the hours of studying I needed to get done, I would’ve headed over to his place after work.
I save the file, put the pencil down, and massage my aching wrist. I’ve worked nonstop for hours, and I’ve made great progress. It feels incredible, especially when I think about my conversation with Professor Danilova. She was very happy with my interactive project, and she hinted I shouldn’t worry about my grade in her class. The rest of my grades are much lower than I’d like, but I’m determined to bring them back up.
I stretch and shift in my seat, ridding my muscles of the tension they hold. Then, I stand, promising myself I’ll pick up a planner to keep myself more organized from here on out. For now, I’m anxious to get over to Dominic’s.
As I pack a bag, I reminisce on our time together, our stolen moments, heated nights, his kisses. He’s the perfect inspiration for the character art I’ve been working on. Most of the clients I’ve picked up are romance authors, and Dom is the perfect book boyfriend. In fact, I had to rework a sketch not long ago when I realized I’d created a character who looked almost exactly like him.
I hop in the shower next, wanting to pamper my body so we can spend the night tangled in each other. Sex or no sex, every night with him is better than the last. He’s always so attentive, happily listening to me ramble about things he doesn’t understand, like JavaScript basics, Python for prototyping, and Unreal Engines. And the way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not watching makes me melt. With him, everything feels different, better, easier, more passionate.
I can’t wait to be in his arms again.
The familiar scentof motor oil, tobacco, and faint cologne lingers as I stop in front of Dominic’s apartment on the third floor.
Pizza boxes balanced in one hand, I slip my key into the lock and push the door open. Inside, soft music is playing, and the only light comes from several lit candles around the space. Candles I purchased.
I blink, adjusting to the darkness, and close the door. Though the setting is romantic, my senses are screaming something is off. My stomach hollows out, and I stand just inside the door, my feet rooted to the spot as I pick up the sound of soft murmurs over the music.
I also hear…kisses?
Teeth gritted, I force myself to round the corner and step into the living room. When the scene in front of me registers, a sharp pain pierces my heart. It’s a miracle I don’t let out a sound, because I don’t think I’ve ever experienced this kind of hurt before.
I don’t move, don’t breathe, don’t blink. I just stare.
Dominic is sitting on the couch, legs spread wide while Remi straddles him. Her arms are wrapped around his shoulders, and his hands are set firmly on her hips. She’s slowly kissing his neck. I think. Or maybe it’s my imagination, because time has slowed to a crawl, and I’m watching my life unravel in front of me in excruciatingly slow motion.
She arches her back, moaning softly, telling him how much she missed his hands on her as she rolls her hips, grinding herself against him.
His hands remain on her hips, but his eyes are locked on me, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t move, doesn’t push her aside. He just holds my gaze and does nothing.
My stomach hardens, and my ears start to ring. My knees wobble, but I refuse to let them buckle. For a moment, I want to scream. I want to toss these pizza boxes to the ground and throw the lamp against the wall. The urge to destroy his place is powerful. I’m suspended between hurt, disbelief, and rage. It’s all too much, and if I let myself give in to the voice telling me to lash out, I’ll spiral.
So, I gather all my strength, all my courage, and step further into the room. At the sound of my footsteps, Remi glances over her shoulder, and her lips stretch into a menacing smile. I don’t pay her any attention. Eyes still locked on Dominic, I set the pizzas on the coffee table and toss his house keys on top.
Then, I straighten my spine, lift my chin, and walk away. I don’t slam the door behind me, don’t rush down the stairs. Every one of my steps is calculated. He broke my heart. My entire world has just imploded. I won’t let him see my tears.
I’ll stay true to my word no matter how much it hurts. I’ll never fight for space in his life.
Without looking back, I climb into my car, start the engine, and drive away. I don’t want to go home, and I can’t face my friends. So, I drive, focus on the road, hands gripping the steering wheel to keep me grounded. To keep me from falling apart. For a while, at least.
Thirty minutes into my drive to nowhere, a whimper escapes me. That’s all it takes for the floodgates to open. Hot tears stream down my face, and when my whole body starts to shudder, I pull into a parking lot.
With the engine still running, I bury my face in my hands and cry. My heart is broken figuratively, yes, but the pain is so intense, I’d swear he cut open my chest and tore out the organcompletely. With trembling hands, I fish my phone out of my purse. It’s only five a.m. in Milan, so my dad is probably still asleep, but I need him.
He’s the only person who’s never hurt me.
The only person who loves me unconditionally.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he answers, his voice gruff and sleepy. “Is everything alright?”
I inhale, willing myself to relax a little, willing my voice to steady out, but it’s useless. All I manage to push through my teeth before I dissolve into tears again is, “Hi, Dad.”
He clears his throat, voice instantly sharper. “What’s wrong?”
For a moment, I can’t speak. Then, like a dam has broken, words spill out. I tell him everything from the very beginning, no hiding, including the truth about last year’s Halloween party. He listens without interrupting me, lets me pour out all my pain. Once I’m done, he sighs.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I-I—” I inhale a shuddering breath. “I thought I could handle it. I thought I could make it work.”
