Page 59 of No Strings Attached
“I helped your mom plan the surprise. Do you know how humiliating that is?”
I step toward her, but she backs away again, and my gut twists.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” I murmur.
“Well, you did.”
She turns before I can say anything else, heels clicking softly against the polished floor.
“Amira, please.” The panic is clear in my voice, and I barely recognize myself. I went from wanting no strings attached to begging a woman to not walk away from me.
“Don’t follow me. Just…” Her voice wavers. “Leave me alone, Henson. Forget this happened. Forgetwehappened.”
Every word lands like a punch. My heart lurches, then pounds so hard I swear it echoes in my ears. I stagger back a step, hand gripping the edge of the console table just to stay upright.
Amira reaches for the handle, pauses just long enough to swipe a tear from her cheek, and walks out the front door without looking back.
Shutting my eyes, I inhale. Exhale. One, two, three. My fingers press into the wood beneath them, grounding me. I count again. Four, five, six. Slowly, the ringing in my ears dulls. The pressure in my chest lightens. I’m still standing.
Barely.
I don’t know how long I stay there, staring at the spot where she last was.
But I know this: nothing about what just happened between me and Amira will ever be forgettable.
21
HOW COULD YOU BE SO DUMB?
AMIRA
Ibarely remember the walk back to the cottage.
My heels crunch in the snow. My hands shake. My chest feels as if it’s been cracked open, every breath slicing through the center of me like glass.
By the time I reach the front door, I’m already crying. The moment I step inside, I break and the sob I’ve been holding in rips from my throat. I stumble toward the bathroom, yanking off my earrings, my heels, my clutch dropping somewhere along the way. My hands are trembling too badly to undo the zipper on my dress, so I leave it on.
I turn on the light and my reflection stares back at me. Mascara streaking down my cheeks. Lipstick smeared. Eyes swollen and glassy. The soft curls I spent an hour pinning in place have started to fall.
I look wrecked.
Stupid.
Naive.
And all I can think about is how Henson once whispered that he’d never make me cry bad tears.
“How could you be so dumb?” I whisper to myself, gripping the sink. “How could you let this happen again?”
Another reminder that I am not the one people choose.
The tears start again, hot and unrelenting, racing down my cheeks faster than I can wipe them away.
“I let you in. I let youin.”
That’s what hurts the most.
This wasn’t just some fling.
