Page 29 of Mr. Wrong (Hollywood Knights #1)
Twenty-Nine
Ellenore
Derek: I’m not mad.
I’m not. This isn’t
anything we can’t work
through. I forgive you, okay?
I forgive you.
Derek: Just come to New York,
Elle. Just come here and we can
pretend that the last three months
never happened.
Derek: Please just answer me.
I’m going crazy here.
I scroll up a bit and re-read the texts that were waiting for me when I limped my way back to the pool house after getting my ass chewed by Landon.
Derek: I want you back.
Derek: I called your mom.
She said you’re living in
California with Dani.
Dani, Elle?!? You know
how I feel about her.
Derek: A one-night-stand
with some loser you met at
a bar? Are you out of your
mind?
Derek: Jesus, Elle,
a motorcycle?
Seriously?
I almost texted him back. Almost told him that it was none of his business who or what I did, but in the end, I just put the phone on its charger and went to sleep rather than deal with the rapidly growing mess that is my life.
Because avoidant behavior is always the best course of action when your life is imploding.
This time I don’t go to sleep.
I can’t because I’m in a new, unfamiliar place and I’m trying to get acquainted to the unfamiliar sounds of what’s to be my home for the next twelve weeks.
Liar.
You’ve been lying here, listening for signs of life. Trying to figure out if Lex came home sometime in the night. Hoping he did and that he’ll open the bedroom door. Get you naked and boss you around.
Because it doesn’t matter now.
I quit.
I did exactly what I told myself I wasn’t going to do. The one thing I couldn’t afford to do. Walked away from a dream job and the kind of money I’ll probably never see again, and I did it for someone I barely know. Someone who can barely stand the sight of me unless he’s actively fucking me.
I gave in.
Caved.
I let Lex win.
A disgruntled yowl erupts from the foot of the bed and I push myself up to see Morris staring at me, his large yellow eyes narrowed on my face. His way of telling me to quit being lazy and get up.
“You’re not the boss of me, you know,” I grumble at him, even as I’m throwing the blankets back and my legs off the side of the bed. “I’m my own boss. I make my own decisions.”
You sure do—stupid, dumb decisions that either land you naked or jobless. Sometimes both.
Morris yowls at me again and yawns.
“Shut up,” I tell him, scooping him up and carrying him to the cracked bedroom door. Pulling it open, I take a cautious step into the living room, half hoping to find Lex sleeping on the couch or hear him rattling around in the kitchen.
I don’t.
Despite the fact that I can smell coffee brewing, the rest of the house is empty.
No Lex.
“Good,” I mutter on my way to the kitchen. Dropping a squirming Morris on his feet, I watch him dart into the dark laundry room where I set up his litter box the night before. A few seconds later, the laundry door creaks shut. The cat likes his privacy.
“You’re a weirdo,” I say while I open one of the upper cabinets in search of a mug, and he answers back with a plaintive meow from behind the closed door between us—his way of telling me to mind my own business.
“I’m just saying—for most cats, the fact that I put the litter box behind the washing machine would be enough…” Finally finding a mug, I fill it, adding a generous amount of cream and sugar before taking a tentative sip. “I’ve got a long day ahead—you going to be okay on your own?”
An orange, spotted paw reaches through the crack in the door, batting it open so he can amble his way into the kitchen.
Rubbing against the leg of my pajama pants on his way to the dining room, he jumps onto the window seat overlooking the front porch before giving me the feline equivalent of a thousand-yard stare over his shoulder.
His message is clear.
I’m gonna be just fine, Lady. How about you?
“Fine.” I say it more to myself than to the cat who’s staring at me.
“I’m going to be fine.” To prove it, I drain my coffee cup before setting it on the counter.
“Better than fine, actually,” I say as I move away from the counter and through the kitchen on my way back to the bedroom to start getting ready for work. “I’m great.”
Morris blinks at me before turning back toward the window, dismissing me for the miserable liar that I am.
“Don’t judge me,” I grumble at him as I amble my way back toward the bedroom. “I didn’t judge when you knocked up the neighbor’s Calico.”
He gives me another meow, this one clearly meant to tell me to mind my own business. “I will if you will,” I tell him before shutting the bedroom door firmly behind me.
Alone, I strip out of my pajamas and toss them on the bed before letting myself into the bathroom.