“What little faith. See you in a bit.” I tap his doorframe and then take off. I need to grab a coffee for my girl, and hopefully, I can give her one quick orgasm before I send her on her way.
Chapter Twenty-Two
KELSEY
My throat feels completely dry as I sit up in bed.
The cold, empty bed.
I lean over to the nightstand and switch on the light, illuminating the dark room perfectly. I glance around but see no trace of JP. His phone isn’t on his nightstand.
Did he even sleep here?
I wish I was that person who could drink a lot of champagne, black out, and not remember one thing from the night before.
Unfortunately, that’s not me.
I’m the girl who usually has the hangover attached to all the regret.
And that’s what I’m feeling right now. An immense amount of regret.
Regret how I acted. What I said. For thrusting myself upon JP when clearly . . . well, when clearly, I was anything but attractive to him last night. And the way he shut down as if I actually repulsed him. He wouldn’t even hold me last night. No wonder he’s not here this morning.
I took things too far.
I flip the covers off my body and walk over to the bathroom. I look for a note, maybe a cup of coffee he left behind for me like he’s done in the past.
Nothing.
Worry consumes me as I make my way down the stairs and to the kitchen.
Nothing.
Maybe he texted me.
I walk back up the stairs—grateful I don’t have a headache, only a serious case of dry mouth—and when I reach the bedroom again, I check my phone for a message.
Nothing.
Once again, that ill-fated embarrassment consumes me as the worst-case scenario plays in my head.
I turned him off last night. I’m thinking that as much as he said he likes relaxed-Kelsey, drunk-Kelsey doesn’t appeal. And, fair enough.
But I absolutely hate how the feelings this . . . emptiness is so similar to when Edwin left that night with Genesis. And she was stunning, intelligent, and lovely. Not neurotic and uptight like I am. Let’s be honest, JP had chosen her first, as well. Even though I felt only a tenth of what I feel for JP for Edwin, it still stung when he walked away. So, what will I feel if JP does the same?
Devastated.
But why on Huxley and Lottie’s wedding day? He said that he’d been waiting for me for a long time, so it’s an awful feeling knowing I’ve hit the expiry date of the playboy. Is this him letting me down easy? Shit. This just seems wrong. Or maybe . . . right?
What am I doing with these circular arguments?
Either way, he’s not here now.
I’m not sure when he’ll return, but I know one thing for certain—I can’t be here.
I go to the dresser where I keep some of my things and pull out a pair of joggers. I don’t bother changing my shirt. I quickly brush my teeth, toss my hair up into a ponytail, and slip on sandals.
Phone in hand, I walk down the stairs to the entryway, and just as I’m opening the door, I hear JP ask, “Where are you going?”
Frozen in place, I turn toward where his voice came from—the kitchen—and I offer him the best smile I can muster. “Uh, over to Lottie’s. Bridal things.” I wave at him because I’m awkward. “So, yeah, happy wedding day to everyone.”
His brow pulls together. “You’re just going to leave like that? No kiss goodbye?” He walks up to me with a to-go cup of coffee in his hand.
“Oh, yeah, kiss, right.” I meet him halfway, stand on my toes, and then peck him on the chin. “Okay, well, see you at the altar.” My eyes widen. “Not our altar, the wedding altar, the wedding that’s not happening between us, but between Lottie and Huxley.” I back up toward the door. “So, yeah, see you later.”
“Kelsey, wait a second.”
“I really have to go,” I say to him. “Lottie needs help. She has, uh . . . a, uh zit.” I nod. “Yup, a zit. And she needs help soothing the zit before the wedding, and if anyone is the zit whisperer, I am. But it takes time to soothe a zit and we’re on borrowed time.”
His brows draw even closer together than before, and as I cross toward the front door, he continues to follow me. “Well, at least let me walk you across the street.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I don’t want to trouble you.”
“You’re not troubling me, babe.” He catches up to me, takes my hand in his, and links our fingers, the feel of his palm connected with mine nearly making the thin grasp I have on my emotions slip. He tugs me close to him and kisses the top of my head. “How did you sleep?” he asks as we make our way to Lottie and Huxley’s.