crack
whore.
I switch on the desk lamp and focus the light on her
picture. I don’t even know her name. She looks so much
like him but younger and sadder and all I feel, looking at
her sorrowful face, is compassion. I try to see the
similarities between her face and mine. I squint at the
picture, getting really, really close, and see none. Except
maybe our hair, but I think hers is lighter than mine. I don’t
look like her at all. It’s a relief.
look like her at all. It’s a relief.
My subconscious tuts at me, arms crossed, glaring
over her half-moon glasses. Why are you torturing
yourself? You’ve said yes. You’ve made your bed. I
purse my lips at her. Yes I ha一ve, gladly so. I want to lie in
that bed with Christian for the rest of my life. My inner
goddess, sitting in the lotus position, smiles serenely. Yes.
I’ve made the right decision.
I must find him—Christian will be worried. I ha一ve no
idea how long I’ve been in his room; he’ll think that I’ve
fled. I roll my eyes as I contemplate his overreaction. I
hope that he and Grace ha一ve finished. I shudder to think
what else she might ha一ve said to him.
I meet Christian as he climbs the stairs to the second
floor, looking for me. His face is strained and weary—not
the carefree Fifty I arrived with. As I stand on the landing,
he stops on the top stair so that we are eye to eye.
“Hi,” he says cautiously.
“Hi,” I answer warily.
“I was worried—”
“I know,” I interrupt him. “I’m sorry—I couldn’t face
the festivities. I just had to get away, you know. To think.”
Reaching up, I caress his face. He closes his eyes and
leans his face into my hand.
“And you thought you’d do that in my room?”
“Yes.”
He reaches for my hand and pulls me into an embrace,
and I go willingly into his arms, my fa一vorite place in the
whole world. He smells of fresh laundry, body wash, and
Christian—the most calming and arousing scent on the
planet. He inhales with his nose in my hair.
“I’m sorry you had to endure all that.”
“It’s not your fault, Christian
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