I want them back.
11
One Month Later
Mason
The only thing good about my day is that I got to blow up a building. In my current mean-son-of-a-bitch mood, there’s something supremely satisfying about watching ten stories of concrete and steel crumple to the ground in a cloud of dust.
I pull a beer from the fridge, but before I open it, I slide it back onto the shelf and shut the door.
Fuck it. I reach for the bottle of aged scotch instead, grabbing a highball glass.
I have to get my shit together, put Anna behind me. I give myself the same speech every night. A month has passed, and I haven’t even gotten a fucking text message.
It’s over.
I need to move on.
I’m driving everyone crazy. My employees stay away from me. My mild-mannered assistant threatened to quit. I scared a poor clerk at the grocery store—it wasn’t her fault I stupidly went to the place I’d met Anna.
A couple nights ago, Rissa finally had enough and stormed into my house in full mistress mode, demanding I pull myself together. She’d bitched, cajoled, and threatened to hogtie me and drag me to some private party.
I threw her out on her leather-covered ass.
There’s no way I can mess around with someone else, not even in the most casual sense. Anna has lodged herself in my heart and refuses to let go. All I can do at this point is wait and pray it gets better.
I pour two fingers of the brown, smoky liquid and down it in one gulp. The scotch hits my stomach like a fireball, burning my insides and reminding me I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I shrug and pour another half a glass. I’m too damn tired to eat.
I make my way to my great room and sink down on the sofa, flicking on the TV. Bone weary, I toss the remote onto the coffee table and scrub my hands over my face before staring blankly at the flat screen.
God, I’m such a fucking idiot.
The night I tried to end things with Anna, I should have left well enough alone. I should have stuck to the plan and left when I had a chance. But because I wanted her, was desperate for that small inkling of hope, I convinced myself one night with her this way wouldn’t make a difference.
I was wrong.
One night has made missing her pure hell.
At least before I could have lived believing we were ultimately incompatible.
But now, fuck. Now I have to live with the Technicolor memory of her absolute submission. Live with the sound of her cries as she came over and over reverberating in my brain. Live with the gut-wrenching knowledge that no matter how good it was, it wasn’t enough.
In the end I failed.
The doorbell rings, ripping me from my thoughts.
I growl.Goddamn, Rissa. Why won’t she leave things alone?
I rise and stalk to the door, muttering every obscenity I can think of. I fling open the door.
“Go to hell,” I bellow, even as my body freezes in place.
I blink.
Stare.
Blink again.