Page 124 of Get Me to the Starting Line

A comfy bed that smells of home.

“Stay,” I whisper.

A kiss on my head.

Sleep.

Thesunshinesthrougha gap in the curtains as my alarm blasts through my phone. Groaning, I turn over to shut the annoying thing off, momentarily disoriented. Why is my body so heavy? Why am I so sore?

Yesterday comes rushing back. The race. Thesex.

Julien.

My hand flies out, reaching for him, only to find cold sheets.

I flop back into the bed as a wave of emotion rolls through me, tears pricking my eyes. He didn’t stay. I guess that’s fair. I didn’t stay when he asked.

I swallow the lump in my throat and reach over to grab my phone. There’s a reminder that my flight leaves today, two missed calls and two texts from Paige, a text from Maggie, and a text from Julien.

Paige

you alive over there?

never mind, I came to your door and didn’t want to interrupt *winking*

Maggie

I’m so proud of you!

we’re all good here! Your little man is excited to see you but he’s been great all weekend!

Julien

I wanted you to get rest and if I stayed, I would’ve kept you up all night

The disappointment lingers but his text makes me smile. Leave it to Julien to piss me off and then be sweet as pie about it. And I hate that he was kind of right. I needed rest and would’ve happily stayed up all night being ravished.

As it is, my body feels tight and sore. I move languidly out of bed, searching for my clothes when a loud knock reverberates through my head. Apparently I have a headache as well.

My heart rate picks up, anticipation bubbling to the surface as I wrap myself in a white sheet from the bed and make my way to the door. I’m stiff too.

I’m kind of hoping it’s Paige so she can give me another massage. I can think of someone else’s hands I’d rather have all over me though.

Not bothering to check what I look like in the mirror or glance through the peephole, I wrench the door open.

My heart sinks.

“Good morning, ma’am,” an exuberant hotel staff member says in greeting. She has a tray of food balanced in her hands. The smell of bacon and something sweet wafts towards me followed by the smell of coffee. Oh, that smells good.

“I didn’t order anything.” My stomach berates me for not accepting the food. But someone else is going to be missing their breakfast.

The woman leans back to check the door.

“This is room 456—waffles, eggs, bacon, sausage, and hash browns. Large French vanilla coffee.” She prattles off the order like it’s a grocery list.

I open the door and let her in, watching with confusion as she sets it out on the small table in the corner. She gives me a big smile and then she’s on her way, shutting the door behind her with a click.

It’s too loud in the room and I’m overwhelmed with hunger and loneliness. Only one of those problems can be solved right now, so I sit down and enjoy the hot meal, letting it settle in my stomach. The coffee is rich and creamy, bringing life to my mind and body.

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