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Which is a lie, because when I get back to my hotel room ninety minutes later and stand under the spray of water, I somehow manage to jerk off with my uninjured arm.
It’s Kaylee’s naked lean body lain out on my bed, I imagine.
––––––––
I MANAGE TO pull on a Tom Ford shirt and get it buttoned up, then slide the sling back on my arm. It’s hurting much less than it was, so I figure it’ll heal fast.
Or the drugs are good.
I make my way down in the elevator to the floor where most of the players are staying.
I pay for my own room—the penthouse—because I like space, and we happen to be staying at one of the Dufort Hotels. Given they are technically family, by marriage, I reached out to Hunter Dufort.
“I’ll make sure it's available for you,” he said. “Shame I’m not in town, otherwise I’d come to the game.”
“Let me know when you do, and I’ll get you into a box,” I reply, despite the fact they probably own one in every state, for all I know.
Like my father, Hunter’s—Jonathan Dufort— started the billion-dollar hotel empire decades ago. Now the Dufort Hotel group is a household name here and around the world.
Daniel, the eldest, is the CEO while Hunter and Fletcher hold senior positions in the company.
It’s their cousin Blake, who married my sister Bella, and...man, this is complicated, but his brother Jacob is my half brother. That’s right. Jacob and Blake’s mom shagged Ward. We only found out this year because she kept it a secret from everyone.
So we’re all this huge strangely connected family with a fuck ton of money, basically.
Many of our vacations are spent in the Hamptons at either Fletcher’s or Jacob’s house.
“Will do. I’ll see who’s available for the Super Bowl,” he said to me totally deadpan.
I coughed.
“Okay, you all need to lower your expectations. It’s my first year.” I laughed. “Seriously though. Just let me know. It would be great to have you all at a game.”
“I know Daniel would be keen. I’ll come back to you,” Hunter said. “Enjoy the room. I’ll send you the details over email.”
I am.
The room is amazing. The view outstanding. The service world class.
As are all the Dufort Hotels.
The doors ping open, and I wonder which room Kaylee is sleeping in tonight. Does she have to share? Or does she have her own space.
I berate myself as the thought of paying for her to have a nicer room enters my mind. Let’s be honest, I want her in my bed.
Nothing has changed in all these months. Seeing her every day and being in close proximity just emphasizes my desire and feelings for her that much more.
I still love her.
I think I always will.
The question is, can I forgive her?
Actually, there are a ton more questions than that.
Why did she do it?
Did she ever care for me?