Brett turns away from me and heads for the door to my apartment. “I’ll call my driver from downstairs,” he says. “See you Monday.” With that, he’s gone.
I don’t know whether to dance around my apartment in joy because of the way he made me feel as I came, or whether to curl into a ball and sob because it’s over between us before it even really begun.
I’m really too shell shocked to do much of anything. I can’t believe that really happened. I move as though in a trance and pour myself a cup of coffee from the pot I brewed earlier. I move to the couch and sit sipping the coffee, trying to make sense of a world where a man like Brett Connell could want me, even if only for a few minutes.
My phone beeps and I look around for my purse. I spot it and go to retrieve it, hoping for a crazy moment that it’s Brett. It’s not. It’s Gary, professing his love for me. Angrily, I close my text messages. There are several missed calls from an unknown number, and I know that’s Gary too. With a sigh, I switch the phone off and go back to sipping my coffee.
Eventually, my eyelids start to feel heavy, so I switch off the lights and go through to my bedroom. I lay down in my dress, unable to find the energy to bother getting changed or taking my makeup off. I lay in a cloud of post orgasmic joy and relive what Brett and I have just done. I finally fall asleep with a wide grin on my face.
10
Monday morning comes around a lot quicker than I would have liked it to. Instead of being excited at the thought of seeing Brett again, I just feel nervous. My stomach swirls sickly like it has all weekend.
I spent all of Saturday and Sunday trying to make sense of what happened, and I still haven’t been able to decide how to handle the moment I see Brett again. I want to be professional about it all, but I don’t want him to think I’m cold, or that I’m the sort of girl who hops into bed with a guy and then just writes him off. But at the same time, we both know nothing else can happen, and I’m worried if I act overly familiar with him, he might think I am trying to get it to happen again between us.
I’m just glad Rita ended up spending the whole weekend at her boyfriend’s place and I didn’t have to fend off a barrage of questions from her. She would have taken one look at me and known something was off and I would have ended up telling her everything. I don’t even know how I feel about any of this yet, so I am far from ready to start trying to analyze it with someone else. Particularly, someone like Rita who can read me so well. She knows me almost better than I know myself and she might just pull put some answers that I’m just not ready for yet.
Showering quickly, I then get dressed. I don’t allow myself to agonize over my outfit. I put on a sensible navy blue shift dress, the kind I always wear for work, and navy court shoes. I don’t need a jacket as it’s warm enough outside. I allow myself to put a thin black belt around my waist and at least give myself some shape, but that’s it. My makeup is sensible, natural looking, and I pin my hair up in a messy bun, just like I would any day for work.
Gazing at myself in the mirror, I decide I’ll do. I look like I’m going to work and that’s all I am doing. The fact that Brett will also be there is neither here nor there. It’s one thing letting my hair down at a party, but I’m not going to let any of this effect my work in any way.
Even as I tell myself this, I know it’s not true. My stomach is rolling and my heart is beating so fast, it feels like palpitations. My palms are sweaty and I can feel a sheen of sweat coating my back too. I take a deep breath as a wave of dizziness seizes me. I reach out and flatten my palm against the wall to steady myself. Nausea rolls over me in waves and I take long, slow breaths, trying to get it to pass. Dots of white light dance in front of my vision and my stomach cramps as another wave of nausea rolls over me.
I know deep breaths aren’t going to get rid of it as my stomach cramps again. Saliva floods my mouth and my throat starts to tighten. I push myself away from the wall and run blindly for the bathroom. I throw myself down onto my knees in front of the toilet just in time as my breakfast comes up.
Leaning back, I try to compose myself, but another cramp hits and I find myself hanging over the toilet, retching and retching, even when there’s nothing left to come up. I try to tell myself its food poisoning, but I know better. I’ve worked myself up into such a state while thinking about facing Brett that I’ve actually made myself physically sick.
I stay on the ground for another couple of minutes, but the nausea seems to have faded. I still feel a little lightheaded and I sway slightly on my feet as I move to the sink. I swill my mouth out and brush my teeth again. I look at myself in the mirror. I look pale and
