Page 80 of Confessions of a Smutty Romance Author

A knock sounded on the door, jerking me out of my seat.

I got up from my computer for the first time in hours, ready to tell housekeeping they didn’t need to worry about cleaning my room since I’d be checking out later that day. But instead of a housekeeper, there was a girl with a delivery bag stamped with the Seaton Bakery logo.

“I—who,” I began, already knowing the answer deep down.

“There’s a note stapled to the bag,” she said, handing it to me. “Have a good day.” She walked away, and I stood in the doorway, staring at the paper.

You might not believe in happily ever after. But I do. – Jonas

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I realized... it was already too late. I’d messed up too big. I didn’t deserve his forgiveness. His love.

My phone rang, and I wiped at my face as I went back to the desk and answered it.

“Hello, is this Mara Taylor?”

“Yes,” I said. “How can I help you?”

“We have your security install scheduled from ten to two today. We’ll need you to be at the house to let in our technician. If there are pets or children on the premises, please keep them locked up and out of the way.”

“Sure, I’ll kennel the kids, but I’m not sure where I’ll put the dogs...”

“Oh. That was a joke. Right?”

I nodded, pacing the floor. “Right. Apparently I’m better on paper. Yes, I’ll be there at ten.”

After hanging up, I closed my laptop and got dressed for the day. Not too long ago, I was so excited to be home, but the thought of going back to such an empty place... it didn’t feel like an escape or a sanctuary anymore.

I had my friends, but they had lives. Birdie had Cohen, Henrietta lived with her family, and the guys in my contact list wouldn’t be there much longer.

In fact... I went through my phone and deleted every name, every number, every casual hookup I’d ever had.

The list of phone numbers left wasn’t long. But it included Jonas’s name. I couldn’t erase him from my phone, just like I couldn’t erase him from my heart. But thinking about it, about him, didn’t help what had already happened.

Jonas didn’t like games, and what I’d done with Hayden last night... he wouldn’t like that either. He would want nothing to do with me, despite the note he left.

I let out a sigh and sat at the desk, opening the bag. I could only stare at the breakfast that had been ordered in love. A love I didn’t deserve.

* * *

The closer Igot to my house, the tighter anxiety squeezed my chest. I took deep breaths, counting to four on the inhale and then four again on the exhale. It didn’t help, though. For all I knew, my dad could have thrown bricks through the windows, could be waiting down the block for the payback he probably thought was owed.

But more than that, Jonas’s strong and steady presence wouldn’t be there to keep me safe. Keep me grounded.

I took a deep breath, reminding myself this was exactly why I had to leave Jonas’s house. What happened if I went all in with him? He could die in a car accident. Get drawn into an affair with someone like Tracey. Fall slowly out of love with me as the years went by. And then what? I would be back on my own all over again. Just as weak and powerless and alone as I felt right now.

This was right. This was right. This was right.

No matter how wrong it felt.

I pulled up to my house, and thankfully, the security company was there. No other vehicles aside from my beautiful truck. I missed Bertha so damn much.

I whispered a promise to take her for a drive later as I went to the front door and let in the tech. He talked about as much as the bushes outside, so I just stayed out of the way as he got to work.

My house looked untouched. Even the coffee cups in the sink were just as I’d left them—except with a little extra mold skimming the top.

I realized I hadn’t gotten the mail since before I’d hidden out at Jonas’s and walked to the mailbox at the end of the driveway. It was packed nearly to the brim, and I pulled it all out. Leaning against Bertha, I flipped through the envelopes until my eyes fell on handwriting I hadn’t seen in years.

My dad’s.

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