Page 122 of Playing A Risk
I glance over my shoulder to find him shining a sad smile at her with a nod, saying his final goodbye. It should feel like a victory, but she’s devastated. The emotion surrounds her as if it were tangible. Her step falters, so I stop.
She inhales deeply, wipes her tears away, and rolls back her shoulders. Through a shaky breath, she says, “Thanks for taking care of me last night. I wish you nothing but success. Goodbye, Jamison.”
“Goodbye, Dori.” He waits for her to move.
I think they’re going to share an embrace, but she sidesteps around me and strides down the hall. Jamison hands me her belongings and shuts the door. The story of Jamison and Dorothy, now forever closed.
Yesterday, I let Dorothy sleep off her hangover—at least, that’s what I told myself. I prepared her a bubble bath. After I gave her a massage, she nodded off. I kissed her cheek and covered her up so she could rest.
My mind twisted with ways to break my news to her as I worked in my office most of the day. And when I came out to get something to eat, I heard her crying in my bedroom.
She was mourning the loss of Jamison and I couldn’t bring myself to hold her through it. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I knew I’d end up telling her about Isabella.
I flip the covers over and swing my legs off the side of the bed. I peek over my shoulder to where the most beautifulwoman in the world lies. No matter how hard I try to avoid hurting Dorothy more than she already is, I know I have to today.
“I love you, beauty, and I always will,” I whisper and leave to shower.
When I come out, she’s not in bed. For a brief second, panic rises in my chest.
Did she leave me to go stop Jamison?
I get dressed and set out to find her. The smell of bacon lingering in the hallway tells me she’s in the kitchen and my heart rate decreases.
“Good morning, handsome. Here’s your coffee.” She slides a mug across the island as I make my way onto a stool. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m making breakfast. I’m starving.”
“Considering the last time you ate was Friday at lunch, I’m not surprised.”
“I ate yesterday.”
“A bowl of chicken noodle soup is hardly a meal.”
She shrugs and puts more bacon on the griddle. “What’s the plan for today?”
I study her and try to gauge her mood. She’s smiling, but her eyes don’t have their usual shine. She’s hiding her sadness.
When she cut off ties with Jamison over Christmas, she had this same haunted expression hanging off her more times than I’d like to admit.
I force down the thought and take a sip of my coffee. After I place my mug down, I spin off my stool.
There’s got to be a way around telling her about Isabella.
The natural light illuminates the room, but it’s overcast and gray, matching my mood. I go to her favorite sofa and sit, resting my elbows on my legs. I run my hands over my face and try to find the words.
Nothing I say will come out poetic like Jamison’s torturedgoodbye speech did. No, my speech will be me begging her to stay.
A better man would’ve stopped Jamison and told Dorothy about Isabella before he had the chance to break her heart. But not me.
Not only did I let it happen. I sat and witnessed the demise. My stomach bottoms out.
The weight of her body sitting beside me brings my gaze to hers. I focus on my love for her.
“You’re incredibly beautiful.” I lean over and kiss her pouty lips.
“And you’re incredibly somewhere else. Do you want to tell me about it?”
“Yeah, I think I better.” I suck in a breath of bravery and lose it on my exhale. “I know you said you were being paranoid when you thought someone was following you, but I need you to be sure.”
She nods. “It’s hard to say. I swear a guy was following me, but maybe he was on his way into the dive bar just like I was. He came in behind me and had a few drinks.
