The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) (105 page)

And what was that crap about letting him show me that he loves me?
He has actually never made me feel so insignificant as he did in that moment. I
’
m actually not even sure how it
’
s possible that he was able to take me so high that I felt like I was flying and then turn around and make me feel like it didn
’
t matter what I wanted because he was going to get what he wanted regardless of how it made me feel. It was almost as if he wasn
’
t himself at all.

No. That wasn
’
t my Sonny. I
’
m not sure who that was, unless
…

I reach for my pillow and pull it to my chest, burying my face in the top as I begin to cry. As if someone snapped their fingers and planted the truth in my head, I understand. The Grayson who unhooked my bra, even though I asked him to slow down, the Grayson who didn
’
t say a word as I gathered my things and left, he
’
s the Grayson who
’
s slept with seven different women. Seven different women that he wasn
’
t in love with. Seven different women who probably
helped
him take off their bras
—
and their pants
—
and their panties. His sexual desires have been awakened and explored and satisfied more times than I
’
ll probably ever know, so how can I expect him to wait for me? How naive of me to think that I could share any sort of physical intimacy with him before he couldn
’
t take it anymore.

It kills me to think that his promises might just have been words. I mean, how can I think any different? It would be
different
if we
both
got lost and neither one of us could find the will to stop. But I
did!
And when I asked him to stop, instead of taking a breath like he usually does, he just kept on going
—
where was his fight? He left me to do it all alone.

And he called me
baby.

Suddenly, my head is filled with images of him in bed with other girls. As he helps them out of their clothes, he calls them
baby
. I know that I shouldn
’
t allow my head to go there, but it
’
s too late. Sex doesn
’
t mean the same thing to me as it does to him. How can it? I
’
ve never done it before, he
’
s done it with more than half a dozen women! I feel so stupid.

But more than anything else, I feel incredibly hurt. He
’
s supposed to make me feel safe, but he made me feel panic. He
’
s supposed to make me feel loved, but in that moment, he took that away from me.
He didn
’
t even apologize.
That
’
s what makes this whole thing suck so much. If he had shown me just a sliver of remorse, I
’
d probably see this whole situation from a different vantage point. He got carried away
—
okay
—
but he wasn
’
t sorry. He wasn
’
t
anything
. He had
nothing
to say.

His silence is what did me in. His silence is what broke my heart.

I wake up feeling groggy, unsure when it was that I fell asleep. I didn
’
t even change out of my clothes. It only takes me a second to remember why I feel so horrible; as soon as I do, I want to take a shower.
I take that back. I want to cry and then take a shower.
As I reach for my phone, I notice two things. First, I don
’
t have time to cry
and
shower unless I do them simultaneously. Second, I
’
ve got a text from Sonny.

My Hottie:
Avery
…
please call me. I
’
m sorry.

As my eyes fill with tears, I
’
m stuck with an unexpected chill. I realize that I don
’
t want to talk to him. He just apologized to me in a text. He lives
downstairs
and he apologized to me in a text!

Me:
I
’
ve got a crazy day today. I can
’
t. I just
…
can
’
t.

I
’
m not sure if my dismissal is fair, but I
’
m too exhausted to care. I have so much I need to get done today
—

Baby, just let me show you.

My silent tears become a full on cry as the scene is reawakened in my mind. Maybe I won
’
t be showering today. I pull my hair to one shoulder, succumbing to my emotional distress, and begin weaving it into a braid. As I do so, I chisel away at my heart while I somehow manage to imagine how it
could
have been. He
’
s usually so gentle with me, totally aware that I
’
ve never gone very far physically with anyone but him. When he takes his time and tentatively explores, asking my permission with his hesitant advances,
that
’
s
when I feel like a gift he wishes to take his time and unwrap. I
’
ve never felt his impatience like I did last night.

What happened?

Why didn
’
t he stop?

Why wouldn
’
t he talk to me?

My phone alerts me to another text. After I tie off the end of my long braid, I open the message.

My Hottie:
Okay.

I gasp as I read his one word reply. I stare at my screen for at least a minute, waiting to see if something else will follow.

It doesn
’
t.

I get up and slam my phone down onto my desk. I rip off my clothes and change into a fresh outfit before hurrying to the bathroom. I brush my teeth and splash water on my face, fuming the entire time. When I
’
m finished, I grab what I need for the day, slip into a pair of shoes, and head out the door.

I forget about breakfast, but I
’
m too angry to care.

My phone, on the other hand, was left on purpose.

I don
’
t know when, why, or how it happened, but my boyfriend is suddenly a total
ass
.

She
’
s going to leave me. If she doesn
’
t, she should. I deserve it.

People have been leaving me my whole life. It sucks every time. But this
—
this is different. This time I brought it upon myself. This time
I
’
m
to blame. I pushed too far; I
’
ve pushed her away. What reason have I left her to come back? I never deserved her in the first place. I told her
—
I told her
that I wasn
’
t good enough for her. She said she
’
d never believe it
…
well, I just proved it.

A lie is one thing. A secret
—
it
’
s just not the same as what I did. I took advantage of what she was offering me in that moment and I made her feel afraid. The look in her eyes
—
I despise myself for putting it there. I broke the trust she had with me for her
body
and that seems so much more significant than any of the other trust she
’
s offered me. On top of that, I broke my promise to wait and I broke every promise I ever made to myself to protect her, even if that meant protecting her from me.

She
’
s going to leave me. If she doesn
’
t, she should. I deserve it.

The ironic part is, I was trying to make her stay. Over the last several weeks, I
’
ve felt like she was being taken away from me. Both of us were being claimed by our schedules and it was becoming overwhelmingly frustrating. I didn
’
t mean to hurt her, I just wanted her
back.
I needed to make her mine, to communicate to her that I am here and that I want her to stay with me always
—
no matter what. That
’
s the only way I
’
ve ever been able to make women
stay
.

And yet, no matter how much pleasure I was able to provide, they eventually always left anyway.

I guess I thought it would be different with Avery. I thought our love would make it different. Better. After a night of restless sleep, I see now how much of an ass I am for thinking that. Avery isn
’
t like any of the other people who have left me. Now, when she leaves, I won
’
t need an explanation. I
’
ll know.

I
’
ll know it was all my fault.