"One room, please." I sat my credit card down on the counter. Actually, I pretty much threw it. 

The concierge smiled awkwardly as she took the card and started the process of reserving my room. I ran my hand through my hair while I waited impatiently for her to finish. During the drive here, I couldn't stop trying to figure out when my life went to shit. Was it when my father sent me to that camp? Was it when I kissed Logan in the club that night? Perhaps it was when I asked him to stay at my place the night of my twenty-third birthday. The night we first had sex. 

I didn't know which of those caused me to be here. Again. I was standing in another fucking hotel lobby, checking into another fucking room, by my-mother-fucking-self.

After the not so good visit by Logan's lakehouse, I started the long drive home. Once I finally got there, I had no idea what was waiting for me.

I dragged my feet through the dark hallway after I set my keys on the little table by the front door. Fuck I was exhausted. Mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted.

I knew what I was getting myself into when I showed up at the lakehouse, but I still thought it was worth it. I got to see him—kiss him—one last time. I just needed to sleep for a goddamn week now.

"You're back."

Fuuuuuuck. I knew that voice. Of course, I knew that voice. It was just my luck that she had come home early. 

"Vanessa...you're home. You didn't call me."

She reached for the wine glass in front of her, and that's when I also noticed the empty bottle next to it on the table. She sipped the merlot then held the glass in her hand. "I wanted to surprise you."

I let go of my duffle bag and it fell to the floor with a thud. "It's good to see you.""

I walked towards her with the intention of giving her a hug and a kiss. She caught me off-guard when she held her hand up to stop me.

"Something wrong?" I asked. My gut told me what the problem was, but my brain refused to believe it.

"Yeah, actually." She poured the last of the wine in her glass. "I came home early to surprise. Funny that I was the one who was surprised."

I stood there quiet and motionless while I waited for her to continue.

"So, I got home yesterday and was looking up recipes so we can have a nice dinner together." She held my stare. "Then Max called me to see how you were feeling. He said that you told him you were going to be out of work for a week because you were ill." She gestured her hand up and down the length of my body. "Well, I'm no doctor, but you don't look sick."

I cleared my throat. "What did you say to him?"

She sucked her teeth and shook her head. Leaning back in the chair, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't worry," she sneered, "your job is safe. I told him that you were still sick but you should be feeling better soon."

I knew I had no right to thank her, but she could have cost me my job if she wanted to. I wouldn't hold it against her if she did. "Thank you."

"Instead of thanking me, why don't you tell me where you've been? Because you clearly weren't in Atlantic City."

I didn't want to answer her question. Instead, I wanted to run—I wanted to run far away just to be alone for a while. I wanted to try to figure out what I wanted and who I was. I wanted to figure out how I was going to accept that Logan was getting married. I didn't even know if I was going to see him again. 

She cleared her throat and I knew I was getting lost in my thoughts again. Thoughts and issues that were reserved for later. At the present moment, I needed to deal with my own shit. I looked Vanessa in the eye. "I was staying in a hotel about an hour from here." 

Her eyes never left mine. "Alone?"

I didn't answer her. Then again, I didn't need to. I saw how the betrayal hit her when her eyes watered a little and her bottom lip quivered. She got up from the table and started pacing around the dining room. The effect my actions had on her screamed in the silence between us. I fucked up. I knew I fucked up and I couldn't change it. Couldn't fix it.

Vanessa exhaled a shuddering breath before she turned back towards me. "Who was she?" 

"Does it matter?" I couldn't tell her that it wasn't a 'she' but a 'he'. I couldn't tell her that having sex with Logan was the only real pleasure I've ever known. "It was never my intention to hurt you, Vanessa. I know that doesn't mean shit, but it's true."

I closed the small distance between us but kept my hands to myself. My first instinct was to reach out and comfort her. But I knew touching her would be a mistake right now. One that would probably get me slapped. 

"I didn't plan on this happening. It wasn't something I wanted to do; if that makes sense. I don't fucking know." I ran my hand over my face and exhaled a weary sigh. Fuck. I was tired. So fucking tired. Of...everything. "This is all on me. It's nothing you did. I know sorry isn't enough, but I am. I'm sorry."

After a few more minutes of silence, I asked, "Do you want me to leave?"

As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized I've been asking that question a lot lately. I asked Logan that two or three times. Now here I was again, asking that same fucking question.

"Yes," she answered. She didn't say anything else. There was no huge fight. No throwing of objects. No screaming. Just that one word that made me feel like the biggest piece of shit in the world. 

I grabbed my duffle bag. "I'll come back another time for the rest of my stuff." My gaze ran over her one more time. "Goodbye, Vanessa."  

"Are you going to need one key or two?"

I looked up at the concierge. "Sorry?"

She smiled and handed me my credit card back. "Will you have a guest? Just so I can give you the right amount of keys."

My chest tightened and ached. "Just me. One key."

After she finished getting everything setup, she told me my room number and handed me that little paper card holder that held my key. I tried not to think about how fucked up my life has gotten over this past week as I got onto the elevator and pushed the button for the third floor. Honestly, I just wanted to get to my room, smoke a cigarette, and go to sleep. Maybe get drunk in between. 

My room was at the end of the hall, so it took me a little while to get to it. When I passed an opening I glanced to the right. There was a man holding an ice bucket, pressing the wrong buttons on the machine. He was definitely hammered. I continued down the long hallway. 

"Soon," I promised myself. Yes, very soon I would be just as drunk as that guy. I couldn't wait. 

I finally got to my room, opened the door, and dropped my duffle bag. I walked straight to the minifridge and pulled out the small bottles of alcohol. I never usually drank these since they charged an arm and a leg for them; but tonight I didn't care. 

I drank four bottles when my phone started to ring. I got to my feet and stumbled towards the TV stand. I stared at the screen when I saw Logan's name. I really shouldn't answer it. I'll just let it go to voicemail and—

"Hello?" I said when I answered. Damn. So much for my 'let it go to voicemail' plan. 

"Hey. Where are you?"

I sat back in the chair and opened another bottle. "Does it matter?"

I heard the sound of a car horn in the background. He was driving. "Have you been drinking?"

I laughed despite how I was really feeling. "That I am. Two points to you, Sherlock."

"Listen, Grant, I was calling to tell you that—"

"You were right," I interrupted.

"What?"

"About me leaving. You were right." I exhaled a deep breath before I continued. "I can't do this anymore. It's best if we go our separate ways."

Logan didn't say anything at first. I looked at the screen of my phone to see if I lost him. Nope, the call was still connected. 

"What happened, Grant?" 

"Something. Nothing. Everything."

"Christ," Logan hissed. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Not nearly enough," I muttered. "Look, I meant what I said. Take care of yourself, Logan." 

After I disconnected the call, I turned off my cell phone. I knew he was going to call me if I didn't. This was for the best. Yep. Absolutely. 

Then why did it hurt so bad?