Determined (Determined Trilogy Book 1) (20 page)

“Evan, is there something you need?”

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he pulled out a bottle of rum from a cabinet under the kitchen island. A few moments later he found a glass above the sink and poured himself three fingers worth of the amber liquid.

“I just wanted to check in and see how your first visit to Art Basel was going, Sammie.” He gulped the rum and dried his mouth with his sleeve. “Has the trip been ... pleasurable?”

He rounded the island, moving closer to me.

“It’s been great. Thank you for inviting me,” I said tightly, my polite core unwavering.

“Great, yes.” He paused, taking a big gulp from his glass. “Sam, can I ask you something? I felt like last night went really great, but now you’re avoiding me.” He leaned in, his breath hot and foul. “What gives?”

I took a step back. “I’m not avoiding you,” I said carefully.

“Yes, you are.” He snapped, narrowing his eyes at me. He stepped forward again, prowling closer to me. I took another step back. “Sam. I brought you here. I can make you a star gallerist if you work with me. But you would rather be anti-social and stay
here
,” he gestures widely, spilling his rum, “in your palace. You know, all you gallery girls, you’re all the same. You show up, all ‘please, yes, teach me,’ you say you want a career, but all you really want is someone to bankroll your spin classes and tropical vacations.”

I look at him, horrified and dumbfounded. What the hell was he talking about? What was wrong with him? I was beginning to think I’d made a huge mistake. Dammit, why did I tell Thomas to go? Evan was too close, too angry. He continued, his speech hot and spitting. He put his drink down on the counter next to us.

“You’re just a tease, Sam. You don’t want to be known as a tease, do you? Aren’t you serious about your career?” He pressed his body into mine, and started kissing my neck. I tried to duck away, but he was stronger than I expected. I thought about screaming, but who would hear me? I closed my eyes. I gave one final push and broke loose. I dashed across the kitchen.

Evan resumed his pursuit and quickly grabbed me, pinning me against the dining room table.

The elevator dinged.

Oh thank God, Thomas.
But the cadence on the marble floors was different, familiar. It approached us. Evan and I both turned our heads up to the sound.

“David.”

David was standing in the threshold. He stared at us for a moment. Me, in my underwear and robe, Evan with his shirt undone. David made eye contact with me, and his face dropped. In an instant I knew he had the scene all wrong. And I knew he wasn’t going to wait for an explanation. I knew he couldn’t. And he didn’t. He turned right around and got back on the elevator. I couldn’t follow him because Evan still had me pinned to the table in what probably looked like a scene from a romance novel.

“David, wait!” It was too late. The elevator doors closed. The interruption was enough to rocket Evan back to reality. I turned to him and pushed him off me, the balance of power now restored.

“You jerk. Look what you have done.” I wasn’t screaming. I was growling. “You fucking pig; get out of here.”

Evan actually looked hurt. He rubbed his face with both hands.

“Sam, wait, I’m sorry.”

I turned to him and lowered my voice even further. “I said get out of here. Now.”

He scooted to the elevator.

A moment later it opened, and Thomas got off, his shirt soaked through with sweat.

“Sam, are you okay?” He looked suspicious. I noted that he used my first name.

“Please get him out of here.” I indicated to Evan with a nod. Thomas turned to accompany Evan to the lobby. “And don’t let him back up.” The doors closed behind them, and I propped myself against the wall.

Fuck, what just happened? Where was David? A huge, black pit formed in my stomach. What did he think he saw? I pulled my cell phone out of my purse and dialed his number. It went straight to voicemail. I tried two more times with the same result. I texted him.

Hey are you there?

It’s not what you think.

Please call me.

I waited. Nothing.

Please come back so I can explain.

He came on to me, I didn’t do anything.

Please

Nothing. I sat down on the sofa and stared out the window. Thomas reappeared.

“Are you okay, Sam?” He looked genuinely concerned.

“I’m fine. Thank you for getting him out of here.”

“What happened? Are you sure you are okay?”

“He was drunk. Things just got out of hand. Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“He’s banned from this floor. You can relax.”

“I need to see David.”

“Isn’t he due here soon?” Oh, shit. Thomas didn’t know that David had walked in on the mess.

“Can you find him for me, please?” Thomas looked confused, but nodded his head. And I sank deeper into the sofa, pulling a blanket over me to block out the setting sun.

~

“Sam ... Miss Sharp ...” Thomas was gently saying my name. I opened my eyes slowly; it was dark. The lights of Miami were glittering outside the huge windows.

“Miss Sharp?”

I roused slowly, my body exhausted. What time was it? The events of the afternoon started to flood back to me. I grabbed my phone. It was 9:30 p.m. No texts back from David. Where was he? My stomach was tied in knots, and my head hurt. The half-eaten burger was still on the coffee table.

“Thomas?”

“Yes, Miss Sharp.” His eyes were sad.

“Have you found David?”

He looked down at his feet for a moment before answering. “Mr. Keith has flown back to California, Miss Sharp.”

Silence. I couldn’t breathe. What? Flown back? Without me? I tried to process what he was saying. He spoke again.

“I’m to accompany you for the rest of the trip, Miss Sharp, as well as the trip home.”

I could barely hear him. A high-pitched buzz reverberated in my ears.

“He went home?”

“Um. Yes, Miss.” His eyes were pained.

“Did he say why?”

“No, Miss.”

“When did he leave?”

“About forty-five minutes after the ... incident, miss.”

This wasn’t happening. I thought he’d be upset, sure, and he’d need to go for a run and work it out. But then he would come back, and I’d explain, and we’d make up. He wasn’t supposed to leave.
He left me here?
My heart crumbled.

“We’re going back,” I said quietly.

“Back, Miss?”

“Back to San Francisco. Tonight.” I looked up at him. My voice was soft, but my eyes were firm.

“Yes, Miss.”

15

I was packed and on the plane within the hour. The pilot mumbled something about turbulence, but I wasn’t paying attention. I tried texting David again.

Are you there?

I can’t believe you left

Why aren’t you answering me?

Even if you are mad, please just say something.

Do you really think I’d choose Evan over you?

I resolved to not give him the gory details over a text message. I needed to see his face, weigh his reaction. I waited for something, anything.

Nothing.

The flight was bumpy, and even Lucinda looked strained as the cabin tossed about. But I didn’t give a damn. The plane could crash for all I cared. Then maybe David would feel what I was feeling right then. I looked out the window and into the darkness.
Hurry up.
Finally, I couldn’t hold it in anymore, and my eyes started leaking. I cried quietly for a while. Lucinda took pity on me and offered me a brandy and a blanket, allowing me to slip into a horrible, restless sleep.

~

I woke up when we touched down at SFO. It was still dark outside, and the rain had given way to fog. As we taxied, I shifted in my seat, my body raw and tired from being so tense. My eyes were parched and used up. I staggered down the stairs from the plane, and crumpled into the backseat of the waiting SUV. I checked my phone again. Still nothing. I double checked the connection. Nothing.

Rounding the onramp, the SUV picked up speed. We flew down the freeway, alone in the dark except for the occasional big rig. I waited silently, watching to see if Thomas would take the exit to David’s apartment, or if we’d continue straight on to the bridge, toward my home. I felt the tug of the right lane as we approached the last exit to San Francisco, but we stayed in the firmly in the center lane. I wanted to ask Thomas where we were going. But I knew. I knew that Thomas already knew if David wanted to see me. We didn’t slow down, and the exit passed. Tears returned to my face, and I folded into myself as the lights of the city fell behind me.

Crossing that bridge had never been so painful.

16

The next day passed in a slow, dull, blur. I languished in bed, hiding under the covers. The sky was overcast and gray, and since I was supposed to still be in Miami through Sunday, I had no practical reason to get up. I tossed restlessly, wandering in and out of sleep, my pillowcase stained with tears.

I checked my phone for an email, a text. Nothing.

~

By the time the sun finally went down, I was feeling a little more lucid. I kept replaying the scene in my head. I couldn’t believe David actually thought I’d cheat on him with Evan. I thought we trusted each other.

Why wouldn’t he just call me back? Or believe me when I told him what happened? He was too used to being hurt. He was just expecting the world to fuck him over. But he won’t have that. Mr. Master of the Universe had to go and stop anything good before it could hurt him. My sadness was giving way to anger now.

Why the fuck wasn’t he calling me back? How dare he think he’s right about this?
I was the one who was fucking attacked, and he ran like a fucking coward.
I grabbed my phone and punched out a message.

Never mind. Don’t fucking call me.

You only care about yourself. So run.

Fucking run. Run to the next girl.

Nothing.

I slammed my phone down on the mattress and pulled the covers over my head. That night, I slept like the dead.

The next morning, I awoke to a hard rain. I laid in bed for a long time, staring at the ceiling. I wasn’t hungry, but forced myself to get up, finally, to make a pot of coffee. I took a mug back to bed, and sat under the covers, and sipped the hot liquid slowly, trying to break out of my funk. I had one more day before I had to go back to work. I really didn’t want to face a battery of questions about Miami. What was I going to say? That in between seeing some of the most exciting art from all over the world, I managed to lose the best thing that had ever happened to me? No one knew the deep connection I felt with David. They wouldn’t understand why Sam Sharp, the girl who was determined to make something of herself, would leave an event like that early. And I didn’t want to appear to be exactly what I was: a woman so hooked on a man that she allowed it to disrupt her career. So I decided then and there to not tell them. Not Curtis, or Eve, or even Carrie. They didn’t need to know. I could at least pretend to be okay. I had to.

After an hour or so, I pulled myself up and wandered to the bathroom. Turning on the shower I looked in the mirror for the first time in two days. It wasn’t pretty. My wild hair was matted, and my eyes were splotchy from crying. I stripped down, out of the lacey bra and panties David had bought for me, and slipped into the stream of hot water. It felt good. I stood under it, letting the warm current wash away the grime I had carried home from Miami.

I took my time washing and deep conditioning my hair, giving myself the care that I wasn’t going to get elsewhere. Eventually, the warm water started to fade, and I turned off the spray and stepped out and into a large, soft towel. I went over to my dresser and picked out clothing that was soft and kind—stretchy black leggings and a gray hoodie.

I spied my suitcase by the door, where Thomas had left it twenty-four hours before. A suitcase, filled with clothing David had bought me, none of it my own. A dress that I wore as I navigated the exhibit halls, networking and trying to build my career. A dress that I had planned on wearing the night David got into town. Those clothes, I never wanted to wear them again. I hated that suitcase and what it represented. I wanted to burn it. But instead, I shoved it under my bed and grabbed my dog-eared copy of
Jane Eyre
, and settled back in under the covers.

I spent most of the day like this, cocooned in my bed, lost in the familiar rhythm of northern England, only pausing occasionally to refill my mug of coffee.

Around four o’clock, my phone buzzed. It was David calling. I contemplated picking it up for a moment. But, in a rare show of strength, I sent the call to voicemail. I was still too mad at him.

He sent a text.

Samantha, please pick up. I need to talk to you.

Fuck you, David
, I thought.
See how it feels?

Hello?

I switched the phone to silent and put it down. I went back to my reading, but couldn’t concentrate. Did I hate him? Yes. No. Ugh. I was so conflicted. I hated what he had done to me. All this grief. I hated that he had put me in a place where I would be so vulnerable to him. I had opened up to him, I thought we had a connection. I never planned on being someone who would be at the mercy of a man. I always thought I was stronger than that. More practical, resilient.

I was embarrassed. Why did I care so much about a man that I’d known for less than a month? My anger started to build again. Why did I put myself out there? How did he do that to me? But more importantly, how did I let myself be swept up in this? How did I allow myself to be so hurt? I was so mad at myself. Before long, I was halfway through the novel, with no recollection of having read the pages.

I backtracked, trying to find my place in the book when there was a knock at the door. My heart leapt for a moment -
Maybe it’s David.
And then I got angry again, for letting myself get excited. I wasn’t sure what to feel, let alone what to do.