Page 89 of Forgetting You, Forgetting Me

I don’t regret a single moment because it was perfect.

He was gentle, caring, attentive, and patient—all the things a girl could ever ask for. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. It was better. It hurt, but the pain…it felt good after a while.

I still can’t believe it happened.

Once I come down from cloud nine, I will detail every second, but for now, I just want to appreciate the reality that I’ll be connected to Samuel forever.

Sex really does change everything.

Eighteen

I want a do-over.

If I could take back the last twelve hours, I would. I would take it all back.

The empty place beside me has long since cooled as Samuel rose quite early. I, on the other hand, plan on staying in bed forever.

I can’t believe we had sex. And I don’t mean that in a toe curling, hot, and bothered way, either. Piper has shared many of her horror sex stories with me, and although I felt for her, I didn’t understand because sex with Samuel was always good. But last night, it was bad. So very bad.

Once he emerged from the bathroom, I pretended I was asleep, as I couldn’t deal with talking or cuddling or worse still, him wanting to do it again. He snored contentedly beside me, while I didn’t sleep a wink. It’s the first night he’s slept beside me, and I’ve never felt more alone.

Saxon’s comment rings loudly in my ears because in this circumstance, it’s true. I’ve never felt more alone than I do right now. I was stupid to think that having sex could somehow miraculously fix what is so broken between us. What happened wasn’t making love because there is no love between us. There is no emotional connection. It’s gone. I reallyamin love with a ghost.

I can’t swallow down this ball of regret because there is another reason why I did what I did. I’m so ashamed of myself. I don’t even know who I am anymore. I slept with Samuel to prove to myself that I don’t have feelings for Saxon. But it’s backfired. It’s only proven that I do.

When I saw Saxon take Piper into his room, I was jealous. And I was hurt. I know I have no right to feel this way, but I’ve finally discovered what that “something” is. I have feelings for Saxon, feelings I shouldn’t have. But thinking back to our first encounter, I believe they’ve always been there.

I don’t know what to do. The person I would usually go and spill my heart and soul to is the person who is driving my regret. I can’t have feelings for Saxon; I know that it’s wrong. But I can’t help it.

Stewing alone is making me feel worse, so I decide to face the music. If luck is on my side, Piper and Saxon will still be asleep, caught in a post-coitus bubble, and I can disappear for the day. Or maybe the week.

I take a scalding shower, wishing I could scrub the shame from my skin. Sadly, it’s still there when I open the door and try not to trip over discarded cups, empty beer bottles, and half-eaten packets of Cheetos.

The living room looks like an atomic bomb has exploded and in its wake, it’s left behind debris of the party kind. It’s going to take all day to clean this mess up, but it’s a good way to keep occupied.

The kitchen looks even worse, and as I hunt through my drawers to find the garbage bags, I find a dildo instead. It’s evident the world was on crazy drugs last night.

Deciding to start with the kitchen, I roll up my sleeves and begin collecting all the bottles from the counter. I have no idea how many people were here last night, but judging from the mess, I’d say a lot. I’m surprised no one crashed, seeing as a ton of alcohol was consumed, but I still have the rest of the house and outside to clean.

I’m in the process of filling bag number three when someone announces their arrival by scraping the barstool along the tiles. Looking up, I see Piper slumped on the chair, cradling her brow. “Kill me,” she moans into her palms.

Usually I would smile, but now, I just feel sick. “Rough night?” I cringe the moment the words leave my lips.

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Is there any coffee?”

“Coming right up,” I reply, trying my best to mask my emotions.

The bottles rattle as I dump the bag onto the floor. “Ah, not so loud,” Piper gripes, placing her cheek against the counter.

“How much did you have to drink last night?” I ask, washing my hands.

“I don’t remember. I don’t remember much of anything, actually.”

With my back turned, I question, “Oh? Where did you crash? In one of the spare rooms?”

She is silent, which is never a good sign. “In Saxon’s room.”

My hands tremble as I dry them on paper towel. “Wow. That’s…great, Pipe.” Before I can interrogate her further, the back door swings open and in strolls Samuel.

---