Picture Perfect

I didn’t offer to help her. I didn’t open the passenger door for her, either. A lifetime of ingrained manners sailed out of the window in a matter of seconds as I decided that I just wanted to get as far away from her as humanly possible.
    She barely, and I do mean barely, had herself in the car before I was peeling out of the driveway. Just knowing that she was next to me, close enough to touch, close enough to smell, close enough to hear her breathing, infuriated me. I turned up the radio to ear splitting levels and drove like a demon to get back to my house as quickly as possible. I was done, and I needed her out of my life.
    We got back to my house quickly, and after turning the car off and slamming my door as I exited, I tore into the house as I tried to get myself under control. I had my back to the kitchen door that led to the garage, taking deep breaths and getting my “It’s been nice, but you’ve got a suite at the Mondrian to move into so let’s make that happen ASAP” speech in order. I’d just about gotten it as good as it was going to get when I heard a crash behind me. Turning, I found Tessa on her hands and knees in between the door from the garage to the kitchen, the contents of her purse rolling around on the floor.
    Instinct had me across the room to her in seconds, bending down to help her off the floor. It was clear that she’d tripped coming through the door, and she needed some first aid for her scraped palms and a gash on her knee. She’d gone down hard on the hideous poured concrete floors, and I knew it had to have hurt like a bitch.
    It made me feel like shit that I hadn’t been enough of a gentleman to see her back into the house, because the sky-high heels she was wearing had to be difficult to navigate in. I opened my mouth to tell her that I would help her up the stairs to where the first aid kit was, but the words died in my throat when I saw that she was sobbing. She hadn’t fallen because of the fucking shoes; she’d fallen because she couldn’t see through her tears.
    My heart hurt beneath the ice that I’d encased it in, and I pushed down those feelings with every bit of self-preservation that I had left. I realized that it would be quicker to carry her up the stairs, so I lifted her up and did just that. After I settled her on the bed I went into the bathroom and got some antiseptic wipes and a Band-Aid for her knee. My hands shook the entire time I treated her wounds, but since she had her eyes closed she didn’t notice.
    “It’s all done, you should be fine,” I said. It came out gruff and unfriendly, but I didn’t really focus too much on it because I knew that I needed to get the fuck away from her before my control snapped.
    I decided that I needed to get out of the bedroom, and I hauled ass to the door. I was too fucking weak to throw her out and I hoped that maybe I’d ball up in the morning to lay down the law. As my hand grasped the doorknob, Tessa spoke.
    “Wait. I have to ask you a question.”
    Grinding my teeth, I pivoted quickly and stood staring at her.
    “What?”
    She stared at me for a moment without a word before blurting out, “This is it, isn’t it? We’re done. I can tell that you want me to leave.”
    Well fuck me. She’d backed me into a corner, and now it was time to shit or get off the pot. Pure anger took over, and words flew out of my mouth.
    “Yeah, we’re done. I’ve rented you a suite at the Mondrian to stay in until the tour starts. I’ll have a car pick you up in the morning around ten. You can be ready by then, yes?”
    Absolute calm had descended over her while I spoke, and she didn’t so much as flinch. Any hope that I’d had that she’d tell me that she didn’t want us to be over faded away.
    Looking away from me, she nodded her head. “I can be ready by then.”
    Glaring at the back of her head I snapped, “Good. The sooner this is over, the better. Your timing is perfect because now I’ll be single for the tour. Unfortunately for you, there aren’t as many opportunities for women to pick up guys on the road so it will be harder for you, but if you need to let off steam, some of our roadies are available. They’ve always done well with the groupies we turn down.”
    I exited the room after I said that, slamming the door behind me.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

    What Flynn had said to me hurt so bad that I wished he’d slapped me physically instead of his words. Physical pain had nothing on the pain in my