Page 146 of Ripped & Shipped
What was I thinking?
I nearly bang my head on the steering wheel.
Everything feels numb and pointless. I’m supposed to be at that party—the party I flew here to attend—mingling with the famous and influential people who would skyrocket my platform to another level.
Drake’s words start to reverberate through my mind. I know he was partly drunk. And he had such a misguided idea about what was going to happen between us. Did I lead him on? If I did, it was unintentional. I’ve been beyond clear that I’m in a relationship.
Either way, he never should have cornered me in that kitchen and made me feel so paralyzed.
The further I get from his house, the more my emotions start to swell until I’m crying so hard I have to pull over. It’s not merely Drake causing this meltdown—though it’s definitely him and the demeaning things he said to me.
I thought coming here would give me some sort of get out of jail free card, only it would be a get out of Bordeaux ticket that gave me an excuse to leave that town and the constant condemnation behind me.
If Chris weren’t in the picture, I think I’d never go back.
My sobs fill the interior of the car.
Chris.
I’d call him, but two things stop me. One: Chris warned me against Drake, and I insisted he was wrong. And two: He’ll want to kill Drake if he hears what he did and said to me.
I look out my window at the pitch black ocean with only a visible edge of whitewater defining where the foam hits the shore. Tide rolling in and out, in and out, as if my whole world didn’t just crumble around me.
I’ve got nowhere to go. Nowhere I belong. My online life just took a hit, and my real life is rooted in a town that can’t stand me.
The tears subside enough that I’m able to drive. I’m still softly sobbing when I turn onto the street for my hotel, but my heart feels bled out. I’m so very weary and sick of trying. A soft voice from somewhere inside me urges me to call it a night and not attempt to solve the world’s problems in a day. All this confusion and pain will be here to wrestle through in the morning.
I pull into the hotel parking structure and park my car. When I walk into the lobby, my heart literally skips a beat. I must be conjuring up a dream because I could swear I see Chris standing off to the side of the main desk, casually leaning against the wall, scanning the room.
When his eyes land on me, I know he’s real—and he’s here. I don’t stop to ask why. I run straight into his outstretched arms and I collapse. We’re in public, but that doesn’t stop my tears from streaming down my face.
“You’re here,” I mumble through my sobs into his shirt.
“I’m here. Let’s get you upstairs and you can tell me everything. I should have come with you to start with.”
His voice is strong and certain, with an edge of gruffness that I know is him beating himself up for not being here for me.
So many words flood my mind. I want to say everything, but I say nothing. I simply allow Chris to lace our fingers together and walk me to the elevator. The touch of his hand feels like a lifeline. As long as he’s holding me, I’m not going to completely self-implode.
Once we’re inside and I push the fifth floor button, Chris pulls me to himself and holds me. I rest my head on his chest and grip him with everything I am.
The elevator dings and we step out into the empty hall. I pull my keycard out of my purse and let us into my room.
Chris looks around, taking in the furnishings and the view.
“Why don’t you change into something more comfortable? I’ll wait here. Then you can tell me everything.”
That sounds beyond wonderful. But I have to know.
“How did you know to come here? Why? How?”
“When I dropped you off at the airport, I drove away with an unsettled feeling that wouldn’t quit. I kept telling you I didn’t trust that Drake guy, and yet I let you take off to come here alone. It ate at me all night. Then, yesterday, Meg called me.”
I could possibly kill her. Or kiss her. Maybe both. Whatever, she got me what I needed when I didn’t have the sense or strength to call Chris on my own.
Chris takes a seat in the corner chair. He’s watching me. I know he can read my thoughts right now.
“Meg was concerned about Drake—worried for you.”
