Midnight (McKenna Chronicles Book 1) (24 page)

Knowing
I’ve been defeated and he’s going to leave, I wrap my hands around his neck,
hugging him tightly as I drop my legs from around his waist. “Come back soon,”
I whisper in his ear.

“You
can be sure of it, baby.” His arms squeeze me into him. “I’ll order breakfast
while you finish up.” He kisses me lightly on the lips and I pout, for real
this time, as he gets out of the shower. I watch through the glass door as he
towels off, first his hair, rubbing it with both hands, and then his body.
Everywhere I touched, the lucky towel does the same. If he could see my eyes
now, they'd be pathetic pools of envy. Damn towel.

When
the show’s over and he steps back into the bedroom, I find renewed vigor to
finish washing up. Hair shampooed and conditioned, and body washed, I rush to
dry off. Towel-drying my hair into a chaos of loose curls while walking naked
into the bedroom. I’m going to work from the room today so I throw on a
comfortable, yet very short gray sweater-dress I would normally wear with
leggings. Because I’ll be alone for most of the day I wear just my panties,
taking the time to rub a good amount of moisturizer onto my legs and bare feet
before walking out to meet him for breakfast.

Colin
pulled out his laptop to review something while talking on the phone. He’s
casual and stunning in a pair of jeans, with a white T-shirt molded to his
chest perfectly. I try not to get lost in the visual stimulant that is Colin
McKenna, moving to the fresh coffee brewing nearby.

His
eyes widen as my legs move into his sightline and I smile at his reaction. It’s
invigorating to know he finds my body attractive. I’ve never thought of it as
sexy, and I blush knowing he does.

Pouring
a cup for myself, I do the same for him after I’ve mixed mine, taking the
steaming mug to him on the couch. Our fingers connect as he takes it from my
hand and a long shiver reverberates down my spine. Smiling, I run my now free
hand through his damp hair. There is a certain amount of sweet contentment in
his eyes, yet they always house the slightest hint of sadness as if he is never
quite whole. I wonder about this; is it because of Abby? The baby? Just as I’m
about to sit with my coffee, a knock sounds at the door. Assuming its
breakfast, I jump to open it.

“Charlie!”
I don’t understand why Colin’s voice sounds urgent. Before I can think about it
I open the door with a smile.

I
expect room service, yet Ella Montgomery’s hostile gaze meets me as she slowly
looks over my wet hair and scant apparel, her eyes angry as she meets the end
of my sweater and the beginning of my bare legs.

LOOKING
DIRECTLY AT
me, in a voice only I can hear, she seethes, “You think you’re
special, don’t you?” Her eyes are menacing, her tone hateful. “Don’t fool
yourself; you’re no different than any of the others. I told you to stay away
from him; obviously you’re not a very good listener.” Taking another glance at
my body, she says haughtily, “You’ll never be able to hold him; even you have
to know that. Look at him and look at you.” She chuckles under her breath
before saying one last thing, “You’re nothing. Absolutely nothing. ”

“Ella,
that’s enough.” Colin’s voice is cutting, his eyes trained on my face, which
I’m sure is flushed scarlet from the outrage she assaulted me with. He’s
hastily trying to end his call when, to my further embarrassment, John
Montgomery follows Ella in. Holy shit, I didn’t know breakfast was for four. I
don’t think I could be more humiliated, standing half-dressed in front of the
two people in the world who are repulsed by me.

“Excuse
me,” I mutter stumbling for the bedroom, trying to pay little attention to the
muted voices from the other side of the door. Staring wide-eyed, unwilling to
focus on anything, I wait for the commotion to quell, considering what to do.
Should I get dressed and return to be with Colin? I think it’s probably best if
I stay here.

How
quickly my light mood crashes around me, shattering like shards of glass and
cutting me to the quick. I absently rub my palm where the shard from the coffee
mug sliced through. Colin’s world is so complex and mine is not. I once told
him I like simple things: beer and baseball games. His is filled with wine,
tuxedos and the people who go along with them.

“Charlie?”
He’s hesitant while walking through the door.

Dipping
my head, I cast my eyes toward the floor, my face heating as he sits next to me
on the bed. He takes my hand into his, the other lifting to pull my chin
forcing me to look at him, sighing when he sees the hurt in my eyes.

“Charlie,
don’t worry about Ella. She’s not used to seeing me with someone.”

“Why
didn’t you tell me they were coming here?” I whisper my question.

“I
didn’t know they were. I only knew it couldn’t be room service because I had
just placed the call.”

“I’m
embarrassed.” My voice trembles with the enormity of the feeling. “I don’t want
them to hate me and I can’t understand why they do.”

He
closes his eyes for a brief moment. “They don’t hate you Charlie. John and Ella
don’t understand why I’m with you.”

“Isn’t
it the same thing?” I ask incredulously.

“No,
it’s not. For their own reasons they’re unwilling to allow me to move past
Abby.”

“I
don’t think that’s it,” I interrupt him. “They don’t want you to move past Abby
with me. If they approved of who you were with they would support you.”

He
shakes his head. “That’s not true.”

“Yes
it is, Colin; don’t lie to yourself about this. You can’t tell me if you were
fucking Ella she wouldn’t be shouting it out to the nearest newspaper,
publishing it on your website. Ella soon-to-be McKenna would be flashing in
neon lights.” My anger is tipped. I rip my hand from his and walk to the other
side of the room.

His
brow furrows with his own anger, but I’m not sure if it’s aimed at me, or the
accuracy of my words. He knows it’s the truth. Standing, he moves quickly
before me, grabbing my chin in his hand once again. “I’m not with Ella.”

“Were
you ever with her?”

He
pauses for a moment and I know it’s true. My heart sinks before he confirms my
fear.

His
eyes are wary, losing the anger they held seconds before. “Just once and it was
a mistake.” His voice is low, as if he wishes he could take it back; the
confirmation or the act itself I don’t know.

“When?”
I want to know if it was before or after his marriage.

“Just
after Abby died. I regretted it the minute it happened. I was in a very bad
place.”

“Do
you want her now?” I choke out the question.

“God
no, Charlie. I have no desire to be with her”

There
is a certain amount of relief from his words, yet I know she wants him and it’s
why she hates me. I have him now and she does not. “Tell that to her. I don’t
expect her to like me, but I do expect civility,” I bite out.

I
can’t compete with women like Ella Montgomery; she was right about that. Colin
once told me he has little to offer, which I would dispute at every turn. On
the flip side, the truth is I don’t offer him anything other than a secret
mistress only a select few will ever be aware of.

My
eyes connect with his, worry lacing his brow and it makes my anger subside.
“I’m not afraid to have this conversation with her, I just want to have pants
on when I do it.” Failing to understand the level of uncertainty this new
information has unhinged, Colin gains some of the levity he held when leaving
me in the shower.

“I’ll
take care of Ella and John. Keep your pants off, baby; I like you just the way
you are.” He chuckles, leaning down to kiss my lips lightly. I only hesitate a
moment, his mouth too tempting to fall victim to my wallowing. Just at the
minute we dive into each other there’s another knock on the door.

He
sighs against my lips. “Breakfast.” With a brush of his mouth to mine, he
leaves me wanting more.

~

“I’ll
be back in a couple of hours,” he whispers in my ear. I squeeze my arms around
his waist one last time before lifting my lips to his for a quick kiss.

Still
holding an amount of melancholy from the morning encounter, I suppress my
feelings and try to lighten my tone. “Don’t worry about me. I have plenty of
work to do. Have a good morning.” Colin kisses me quickly on the forehead and
slips out of the door.

Leaning
my head against it after it’s closed, I decide to lie on the couch to relax for
just a few minutes to rest and reflect, think about Colin, the heavenly week
I’ve spent with him, and digest the information about Ella.

I
startle awake, disoriented from the sudden withdraw from a deep sleep.
Shit
.
I glance at the clock on the wall; it’s already past eleven. Grabbing my laptop
I begin to check the website and the various social media pages I’m managing, pleasantly
surprised by the number of visits it has had thus far; it’s garnering more
support daily. I update information from Colin’s snowed in visit to New York
City and send out a ‘tweet’ from his camp with a picture I took this morning of
the snow from the hotel-room window.

Lastly
I log onto Facebook and begin reading through the long list of comments on his
page. They are overwhelmingly positive. I add another update and notice a
message in the inbox. How odd; I know I disabled this function on this account
to prevent direct communication. I wait a moment for the message to pop up.

I
don’t recognize the name, Sara Abbott. The blood drains painstakingly slowly
from my face as I stare at the screen. The message is simple, but it has so
much meaning.
I know who you are and I know what you did
.

I
run to the bathroom, throwing up what little breakfast remains in my stomach.
After the contents are gone I dry-heave time and time again, retching
endlessly. When the worst is past, I pull up to stare at my pale, haunted face
in the mirror. Holy shit; how could this happen? I choke back a sob, stumbling
to the computer to stare at the screen, willing it to tell me who and why
someone would send this. I know it’s meant for me. But who knows I’m managing
this account? Everyone at Colin’s campaign headquarters and Evan, none of whom
I could imagine wanting to hurt me. Ella and John Montgomery? I groan out loud,
holding my head in my hands. Do they hate me enough to do this? The answer to
that is simply, yes. Given the animosity Ella feels toward me, she could easily
send this message. But how would she know? 

I
close my eyes, trying to concentrate and formulate a plan before Colin returns.
I absolutely have no idea what to do. Surely I need to leave to spare him from
my past, but how do I escape in the middle of a blizzard with absolutely no
form of transportation? Travel in and out of New York is suspended completely.

I
knew this day would come, but I had no idea it would be so soon. Colin. I
clutch my chest, my heart shredding at the thought of not seeing him again.
Should I stay and talk to him, or leave him a note, or leave without a word?
I’m such a coward.

I
struggle to pull my thoughts together, compelled on some level to take a
screen-shot of the message and send it to my personal e-mail account. Tears
threaten, but I hold them back, pushing the fear and anger into silent wracking
tremors, the physical pain easier to manage than emotional. I click quickly on
Sara Abbott’s account and find it’s clearly a pseudonym, with absolutely no
personal information attached. The account was created on the same date in
which the message was sent. I delete it from Colin’s page, wiping it clean.

Rushing
now, knowing Colin will be back any minute, I close my computer, throwing it
errantly into a nearby bag. Stumbling into the bedroom, I jam my shoulder
sharply against the bedroom door, hitting it hard enough to knock the wind out
of my lungs. Damn it. I groan loudly to the empty room as the pain reverberates
through my chest, combining with the ache in my heart. It’s debilitating. I
look wildly around for any of my belongings strewn about the floor. Sinking
onto my knees in front of my bag I look for my leggings, struggle into them and
wrap a thick scarf around my neck.

The
items Colin stripped off of me the night before surround me. As I stare
blurry-eyed at my red camisole a torrent of images flood my mind: dinner last
night, our walk to the hotel holding hands, his heated kiss with the cool
contrast of snow falling around us and the many times we made love together in
this suite alone. I grab Colin’s T-shirt from the floor, clenching it to my
face as I rock back and forth, sitting on my knees in the middle of his room.
I’m alone, so astoundingly alone.

I
don’t want to go, but I don’t know how to stay. With that thought I finish
cramming my things and his T-shirt into my bag. Stopping at the table he worked
from this morning, I leave a short note.

I don’t want to
hurt you.

I’m sorry.

-Charlie

Walking
quickly to the door, I rip it open before I can change my mind, practically
jogging to the elevators with two bags weighing me down. Keeping my head tucked
into the thick scarf around my neck to hide my face, I press the button down. I
close my eyes, waiting for what seems an inordinate amount of time for the damn
elevator. In my mind I repeat my mantra, but it’s down to one minute at a time.
I need to just get through one minute, and tackle the next.
An
overwhelming need to return to Colin’s room is gripping my heart, but I’m determined
not to hurt him. I’ve told myself over and over again I would leave if I had
to; I’ll do anything to protect him.

Pressing
the button over and over, coaxing it to open as my anxiety worsens with each
passing second, the bell finally
ting
s loudly and I jump at the broken
silence. The doors open and I steal myself to take the step in. When I do, I
walk directly into the broad, hard chest I now know so well, the electricity
pummeling my already breaking heart.