“I’m not a limo driver,” he said, his lips curving into a smile that suddenly looked far sexier than I remembered. “I’m here to pick up a very good friend of mine.”

I nodded, completely fucking speechless.

I sent this man a picture of my pussy…

“What brings you to town?” he asked. “Your dad’s company anniversary party or his soon to be born son?” he asked, his eyes meeting mine again. “It’s probably both, isn’t it?”

I said nothing. I just stood there, staring at him.

“You look a little sick.” He pressed his hand against my forehead, setting every nerve in my body on fire with his touch. “Do you need me to buy you some aspirin from one of the gift shops?”

“No, I—” I cleared my throat and took a step back, looking him over.

I was kicking myself for never paying too much attention to him before—for never zoning in on his fleeting presence in my memories, because I couldn’t deny what was obvious.

Has this man always looked like this? Has he always been sexy as fuck?

His dark black hair was cut short and low, but a few errant strands fell over his thick eyebrows. His white shirt clung to his muscles in all the right places, the short sleeves exposing a black and grey tattoo that snaked around his upper left arm. His perfectly carved “V” peaked out a bit from the waist of his dark blue jeans.

Jeans that are hiding the most perfect cock I’ve ever seen…

“Christina?” He raised his eyebrow. “Would you like me to buy you some aspirin?”

“No.” I shook my head, snapping out of the trance. “I’m sure that I can get some Tylenol from my friend when he, uh, when he gets here.”

“What’s your friend’s name?”

“He doesn’t have one.”

“Huh?” He raised his eyebrow. “You sure you don’t want that aspirin?”

“I’m going to buy an entire bottle the moment I see one,” I said, adjusting my bag’s shoulder strap. “I’m sure I’ll be needing plenty of it tonight. That, and some wine. Lots of wine.”

He smiled, looking amused. “Just be sure that you don’t take them at the same time. How long will you be in town?”

“I honestly don’t know anymore…”

“Come again?”

“I mean, it all depends,” I said, taking another step away from him. “I’m here for a project-for my new job, so it depends on how much I get done, but um yeah. Bye!” I turned around and rushed away—hearing him call out, “It was nice seeing you, Christina!”

I had no idea where the hell I was running, where the hell I could go to sort through this, but I didn’t care.

I weaved through travelers with my heart racing a mile a minute, ignoring the burning sensation in my legs.

By the time I stopped, I was leaning against a ticketing kiosk, but I already knew that I couldn’t afford a same day flight home.

I took out my phone and searched for the closest Hilton hotel—quickly using some of my points for a reservation. Then I followed the signs for the cab pickup, grateful that they were on the other side, far away from Dane.

Slipping onto the backseat of the first yellow taxi that stopped, I shut my eyes and leaned against the window, hoping that this was all a nightmare that I would wake up from soon.

NINE & a HALF

Bella/Christina

That weekend

Later that night, I stepped out of the shower in pain. I couldn’t take any more streams of scalding hot water against my skin.

Or anymore thoughts about Dane…

Wrapping my body in a towel, I stepped into the bedroom and walked over to the windows. I stared at the planes that were making their descent onto the tarmac, wondering how long Dane stood there waiting for me, if he was still there.

Curious and guilty, I plopped onto the bed and opened my laptop—logging into Words & Letters.

The moment that my profile appeared, a new alert popped up.

Ryan/Dane.

I debated going out to dinner before reading it, or resisting the urge until tomorrow, but curiosity won out.

Letter Topic: Our Meet Up Today

Dear Bella,

I’m going to make a few assumptions about why you would blatantly lie to me about coming to Spokane and wasting my goddamn time.

One, you changed your mind at the last minute because you didn’t want to ruin the current state of our relationship.

I’ll forgive you if it’s this one, but since you know how important time is to me, I won’t respond to any more of your messages.

The woman who I’ve come to know would never do this shit. Then again, maybe she was never who I thought she was.

Two, you’ve been lying to me this entire time, and the clock has finally run out on your imposter charade.

I’ll never forgive you for this one either, but I’d appreciate a reply, so that I can know the truth.

After seven months of letters, you owe me an explanation. Whatever it is.

Ryan

TEN

Ryan/Dane

I refreshed my messages for the umpteenth time the following morning, growing increasingly frustrated by Bella’s lack of a response.