Page 7 of Our Broken Pieces
We each take a couple more turns, and I glance at the clock above Marcus’ fireplace. I only have five more minutes.
I lay down a five of hearts in the discard pile. “I don’t want to go home.”
“I know.” He picks up my discarded five. “Knock.”
Damn it, I lost. “Can I stay here?”
He lays down his cards, displaying his winning proof, and looks up at me. “G, you know my door is always open if things go south, but you can’t sleep here tonight. I don’t want to be in the middle of the mess that you sleeping here could cause.”
I nod. “I know. I wouldn’t want to do that to you.”
I pick up my phone and order a ride.
“Just promise you’ll start thinking about what you really want with Lewis. I want crazy Genevieve back.”
I grab the throw pillow beside me and throw it at him. I never should have told him what my full name is. “I hate that name.”
He easily bats away the pillow, smiling. “I know you do.”
I stand up, and he follows me to the door. I turn and look up at him. “Thanks for letting me hang out.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll bring your car over in the morning.”
“I’m going to hug you.” I rise up on my tiptoes and put my arms around his neck. I breathe in his comforting scent of bergamot and cedar, and it calms me.
My phone buzzes, so I let him go. “Car’s here.”
“Text me when you get home.” He opens the front door for me, and I step out onto the porch as the car pulls up.
“I will.” I walk out the door and call over my shoulder, “Bye, prince!”
“Bye, princess.”
Chapter Five
Gigi
As I walk through the door of our apartment, I send Marcus a quick text to let him know I’m home and drop my purse on the counter. The apartment is cloaked in darkness, adding to the heavy silence that hangs in the air. I slip off my shoes and head to the bedroom, where I find Lewis already asleep, his form barely visible under the covers.
I undress down to my underwear and quietly slide into bed, the cool sheets wrapping around me. I inch closer to Lewis, resting my head gently on his chest, listening to the faint rhythm of his breathing. He stirs, just enough to acknowledge my presence.
“Hey,” he mumbles softly.
“Hi,” I whisper back.
I let my hand trail along his stomach, brushing against his skin, then begin to slip it under the waistband of his boxers, hoping that some kind of physical connection might bridge the emotional distance between us. Maybe this would help me feel close to him again.
“G, I’m trying to sleep,” he says, his voice low but firm.
He rolls over, his movement pushing my hand away, leaving me feeling rejected. My chest tightens as the weight of the moment sinks in, and I fight back the sting of tears. I shift back to my side of the bed, curling up against the emptiness.
Why did I even bother?
When I wake up, Lewis is already out of bed, so I shower and get ready for work. When I walk out to the kitchen, I find him sitting at the dining table, hunched over his laptop.
“Good morning, babe.” I smile at him as I grab a mug from the cabinet and pour myself a cup of coffee.
Lewis looks up and smiles. “Good morning. You’re in better shape than I thought you would be this morning. You smelled like alcohol last night.”
