Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 53725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
For a lack of options and no other reason, I lean down and snatch Damion’s T-shirt from the ground and pull it over me, my armor, even if I’ve erected it a bit too late. I scurry forward and into the living room, where the hunt for my dress is a short one. It’s neatly folded and sitting on the coffee table with my shoes and hose next to it. Damion always liked everything tidy, including my exit, apparently. I roll my eyes and scoop up my clothing. I dress in the bathroom, find my mascara has muddied up my under eyes, and my makeup is basically everywhere and nowhere it should be. After washing my face, I find an extra toothbrush and toothpaste I put to use, as well as a hairbrush. At least I can walk out of here looking a little respectable, except for the fact that I’m wearing my dress from last night.
I have no idea why, but I walk into Damion’s closet, eye the row of expensive suits, and inhale The Damion scent. That delicious smell might unglue me if not for the small section of women’s dresses on one side of the closet that stabs me with emotion all over again. Damn him. Damn him so much. He did it again. I could cry, but instead I go cold inside. This is three times. Three times is too many times.
I go cold inside and then survival mode kicks in.
I start digging for clothes.
My jackpot includes a number of female T-shirts, sneakers and jeans, as well as a few pairs of ladies’ sweats. I check the sneakers and find they are my size. At this point, I’m all about the “I don’t give a damns” as my mother would call them. I’m not walking out of here in my dress. I grab a pair of black sweats, a tee, and a sweat jacket. As luck would have it, I discover a drawer of women’s socks. In the same drawer, I locate a bag of makeup and not the cheap stuff. This is the money haul of big, brand-name products. I’m not sure why it’s in this location, but I suspect it means the woman moved out and Damion stuffed it all in one place.
I don’t allow myself to emotionally respond to that thought.
No. No. No. I will not.
I dress, and in the process, decide whoever owns the Gucci outfit I have on at present, has excellent taste. Damion probably paid for it all. Or not, I think. Women can buy their own Gucci. I’m still in a right enough state of mind to analyze myself. Bottom line: I just want to hate on this woman. I can’t see the problem with that either, not right now.
Once I’m clothed, I tote the makeup bag to the bathroom counter and fix myself up. Then my clothes and purse get tossed in a Gucci backpack. It was in the closet, too, just waiting to be grabbed and so I grabbed it. I’d feel guilty about kidnapping Gucci, but I just don’t have that in me now. Okay, I do. I leave the makeup on the counter. I even consider changing back into my dress, because what if this woman is still in Damion’s life and he cheated with me? She doesn’t deserve to have her Gucci go missing, too. Which leads me to another thought. If he cheated, I cheated, and that feels pretty lousy. Which is why I give myself an out…Maybe they broke up and she just left this stuff?
It’s actually still not a good thought, because if that’s the case, he didn’t even think to get rid of all of her things. Maybe he wants her back, and I’m his rebound girl.
My mind is everywhere, but I pull myself back to the problem at hand. I really don’t want to walk out of here in last night’s clothes. This town is all about gossip where Damion’s family is concerned and apparently mine, considering my dad’s actions right now.
I’ll send all this stuff back right away after a cleaning. Maybe the woman will never know.
Ready to leave, I head for the bedroom, grab the note—as if I really need to see it to know the contents—but apparently, I’m a glutton for punishment. I shove the envelope in the backpack and head for the door. At least I’m leaving in something other than my dress.
I then march through the living room and I stop and scan the apartment to find little memories to hold close to my heart. I’m wearing clothes that remind me why there’s nothing but good sex to embrace about last night. That and the cold hard reality that lets me finally put Damion West behind me.
Therefore, I reach the door and I don’t give myself one moment to look back. I exit the apartment, shut the door, and lock myself out of Damion’s apartment physically and mentally. We are done. The end. This should be the kind of closure I crave, but it’s not. The envelope will be, though. I should have read it before I left the apartment. Then I could have shut the door and really felt the goodbye.