The Hooker and the Hermit
Page 58

She stopped pacing and turned to face me, speaking in stops and starts like she was putting pieces of a puzzle together in her mind. “You manipulated me. You wrote me emails looking for romantic advice, and you knew it was me all along. You wrote that email saying you loved me knowing I’d be the one to read it. You can’t just….” Her voice broke as tears took over. “You tricked me, Ronan!”
“I wasn’t trying to trick you. It was the truth!”
“The truth? Was it? Or has this all been a game? Did you send that email just so I’d let you fuck me?!”
Okay, now I was pissed. I stood from the bed and walked toward her, backing her up and slamming my hands into the wall behind her. I faltered a little when she flinched. “I don’t play games, and I’ve only ever been real with you, Annie. I sent those emails because I wanted you to know how I felt, but I knew that if I told you in person, I’d scare you off. Writing it down and letting you read it without having to respond gave you safety. No matter what you might think, you always come first for me. And I asked you to marry me because I want you to know I’m all in. You have me, body, heart, and soul.”
She closed her eyes when she spoke. “Please, stop. Just stop….”
A lump formed in my throat as I stepped away. Turning her head, she glanced at me then looked to the floor. Her voice was tiny when she spoke, staring at her feet, “Can’t you see? I feel…violated and exposed having you know, having anyone know.”
“Am I just anyone to you?”
She didn’t answer me. Instead, she shook her head and continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “Blogging…blogging has always been my biggest secret. This is probably going to sound crazy, but it’s the only place I can be free and completely happy—it’s the only place where I can be my true self without fear. If people know it’s me, then it’s not my escape anymore. You took that freedom away from me, Ronan, and I’m not sure if I can forgive that.”
I wasn’t a crier. In fact, I could count on one hand the number of times I’d actually cried in my life, but right then I felt a tear leak out. She was so, so damaged by her experiences, and writing was her way of escaping. But it had to be anonymous. That’s the only way it worked. And now she felt like I’d ruined it.
“I’d never tell anyone,” I began; but she cut me off, and her passion returned as she threw her hands out in anger.
“That’s not the point! That thief has my laptop. Soon he’ll know my secret and will sell it to the highest bidder. I’ll be hounded. My life will never go back to the way it was. It had been safe and comfortable, and though it might have been lonely, it was perfect for me. I wish I’d never met you! If I hadn’t, then none of this would have happened!”
My heart fell to the floor. I could literally hear the awful, bloody thump. I was done for. Her words cut into me like a knife. I must have looked completely miserable as I stood there, staring at her, begging her with my eyes not to do this.
She did it anyway, barely looking at me when she said harshly, “Do you have somewhere else you can stay? I’d like to be alone.”
“You’re angry. I get that. But if I go, will you talk to me in the morning? Give me a chance to explain?”
“Okay, fine.”
She wouldn’t quite look at me, but her words gave me a small piece of relief. I could fix this. After she’d had some time to let her anger dissipate, she’d hear me out.
“All right then. I’ll go,” I said sadly and began moving toward her. I needed to kiss her cheek, hug her, anything, before I left, but the look she gave me as I approached told me no. She couldn’t give me anything right then. I felt like a dying man as I walked out of the suite, barely enough strength to go down to reception and get another room for myself. The woman at the desk gave me an odd look, so I lied and told her we didn’t feel comfortable staying in a room that had been broken into. After I said that, she was practically falling over herself to offer me another suite.
Despite my exhaustion, I didn’t sleep a wink. Instead, I sat up watching mindless television and trying to resist the urge to return to Annie and force her to listen to me. I tried to convince myself that giving her space was the best idea and that forcing things with her had never worked before.
At six thirty the following morning, I took a shower to try to wake myself up and put on the same suit I’d worn to dinner the previous evening. Finding O’Hare at the concierge’s table, I asked him if the police had reported back about the theft. He smiled proudly and told me he’d just been about to come find me. They’d caught the thief and had returned the stolen belongings, which consisted of both mine and Annie’s laptops, our travel itinerary, and Annie’s tablet.
For the first time since yesterday, I felt like smiling. Annie would surely be over the moon to have her things back and might even be less angry with me. Carrying our stuff up to the suite, I wore a stupid, hopeful grin on my face, thinking I was going to make everything better. I threw open the door and called out her name. Receiving no answer, I called again and opened the bedroom door slightly, thinking she might still be asleep. My heart skipped a beat when I peeked inside.
The bed was empty. And on the dresser was a small piece of paper with a note.
Ronan,
I’m catching a flight home early. I can’t stay here anymore.
I’m sorry.
Annie.
***
I had my things packed and was organizing a flight within seconds of reading her note. No way. There was no fucking way I was letting her end things like this. Fifteen minutes later, I was outside and in a taxi headed for the airport. I tried calling her a bunch of times, but her phone was turned off which made me think she was probably in the air. I wondered how many hours I was behind her. Had she left early this morning, or had she simply gone the moment I left her last night?
Shit, I never should have left her. I couldn’t believe she left me. She said she would give us a chance to talk. But she didn’t. She lied, and that was the rub.
It didn’t take long for me to check my luggage and go through customs. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday, and my stomach was starting to tell me all about it by the time I arrived in the VIP lounge. It was unnerving. I never forgot to eat. Never. This thing with Annie was messing up my head big time.
I was just about to go in search of food when I stopped dead in my tracks; sitting at a table by the window were my paternal grandparents, Mick and Marie Fitzpatrick. They sipped on coffees and nibbled on breakfast muffins, barely talking to one another, with the silent urbanity of the upper classes.
Seriously, the world was shitting all over me today.
I wasn’t sure what it was. Perhaps I was cracking up after everything that had happened with Annie because I’d long ago given up trying to be a part of their lives, but I felt the urge to confront them. They’d never wanted anything to do with Lucy and me, and I’d always been angry about that, saying fuck them and their money. And for a long time I’d been holding onto that anger, letting it fester and make me feel like I was never quite good enough. That I could never reach whatever ridiculous standards these people had set for themselves.
They were probably jetting off on one of the many luxurious holidays I was sure they took every year. I stood for a moment and watched them as they started to bicker with one another about something. In that moment, I realized just how unimportant they were. How my anger over all those years, especially when I was younger, had been so pointless.
Without thinking, my feet were moving, and I was walking toward them. It had been a long time since I’d engaged them, and I’d been hurt by their rejection back then. Now I was looking at them with brand-new eyes.
I didn’t give two fucks about them anymore, and it was absolutely liberating.
“Ah, Gran and Granddad, how are ya doing this fine morning?” I chirped and pulled a chair up to their table. Marie startled comically, looking like a terrified owl, and Mick began to fidget uncomfortably in his seat.
“Ronan, this is unexpected,” he said, sitting up straight and looking over my shoulder—I was guessing for some sort of excuse to leave. He was old now, and I was in the prime of my life. He glanced at me warily, like he found my size unsettling. I took a small piece of pleasure from that. Once there was a time when I was weak and he was strong. Now the tables had well and truly turned. Reaching over, I snatched a bit of muffin from his plate and took a bite. Not because I wanted it but because I wanted to make him as uncomfortable as possible. The fucker had it coming.
“So, where are you off to this time? Wait, let me guess; it’s Mykonos again, isn’t it? You always were fond of the old Mykonos, Mick,” I said, taking the piss and giving him a nudge with my elbow. “They’ve got some fabulous nightclubs there, I hear. Great for when Gran wants to kick back with a good book and you can head out on the tiles, eh? Meet some like-minded male company.”
Marie was starting to become embarrassed, her eyes pleading with her husband to somehow get rid of me. Other people were starting to look, and if Marie Fitzpatrick hated anything, it was a scene.
“You’re being distasteful,” said Mick. “And my wife and I would appreciate it if you left.”