Head On (Strength And Love)(38)

I spy an iPad on the leather sofa he has in here, and pick it up. I flip it open but, of course, don’t know the passcode to use it…unless... I type in Ethan’s birth date, which he told me last night, when we were talking over dinner, and getting to know one another.

I put the numbers in and the screen comes on. I smile, and swipe through it looking for solitaire. There’s a beep and I see a notification pop up on his Facebook page. Suddenly, I’m dying to look, but snooping is way out of line. Another beep and another notification pops up. Crap, I want to look so bad. Feeling guilty as hell, I tap the Facebook icon. It opens and I simply stare. It isn’t under his real name but says he’s Ethan Dale. There goes my trust alarm again. I glance through his friends, and there’s no Luka, or Ann, or any of those people. Instead, his friends list is all women. Nothing but glamorous, sexy women.

With shaking hands, I look on his timeline and want to be sick. There’s all sorts of comments. And he’s shared things about sex, what positions are best for women to come from, erotic pictures, nothing too racy, but still... There are two messages showing, and despite knowing I’ve gone way beyond crossing the line, I look.

The first is a long filthy thank you note for a “fantastic fuck”. The second is a message from Selina. As I read, my eyes well with tears.

Hey, Ethan.

Got your message. Wow, I didn’t think you’d get bored of the little thing so soon. She’s lovely, but you’re right. She’s not your speed. I’ll look forward to when you’ll be resuming regular services then, with baited breath. Keep me informed.

Miss you, you dirty fucker. Xx

I’m going to be sick. I feel faint. I put my head down near my legs for a moment and take some deep breaths. Oh, God this hurts so much.

I’ve let myself fall for him. I realise in this moment, that in just a few days, I’ve let myself get all tangled up in him. I may not be in love with him, but I’m halfway there and he’s betrayed me. I remember his words of the previous evening. “I’ll let you know if I want this to end.” Yeah, right. Lying bastard.

Then Selina’s words hit me. You’ll never know what’s real.

But, truly, what did I expect? He’s a man who has sex for money. He’s a man who messes with women’s heads, clearly. Why refuse my money though? Why make me feel something for him? It’s cruel, and I can only think he enjoys playing games. He’s obviously been stringing Selina along, me too.

I can’t breathe, and I can’t stay in this house a moment longer. I head to the guest room and start packing my bags, throwing everything in. As I do, tears are streaming down my cheeks. So this is what it feels like to be heartbroken. I can’t have been in love, no one falls in love in the space of a week and a half or so. But I’d let him get into my head. Make me feel things no one has before. And I tell myself that’s it. I’m new to this, of course my first time I’d fall hard. I swipe at my tears as I reassure myself this isn’t the real thing. It hurts like hell now, but in a few days, or a week or so, once I get over the humiliation, I’ll be fine.

I’m livid, and I want to smash something. I’ve never felt rage like this. My phone rings and I glance at the screen to see it’s bloody Uncle Dave again! I ignore it, the rage getting so big inside me I don’t know how to contain it. There’s a red lipstick in my wash bag. Something Ann left me along with some blusher. She said someone with lips like mine ought to wear red lipstick now and again. I haven’t used it yet. And an idea comes to me. I finish packing, methodically. And then I head down the hall to the bathroom. I put the lipstick on, amazed at how different it makes my face look. I appear much older, sophisticated.

I take my phone out and snap a picture of me pouting at the camera. A second selfie shows me with the same expression but my middle finger in the shot. I email them to myself. Once back in the study I fire up the computer once more, log onto my email, and print them out. I then print the photo of Selina from her profile out. I print out the message as well, and take all three photos and the message with me as I head downstairs.

Checking my watch, I panic. Ethan could be back at any moment and I can’t face seeing him. I call a cab and it takes three attempts before I find a company willing to take Sadie, too. They say there’s a cab nearby and it will be five minutes. Thanking God, I put Sadie’s lead on. Kiss Cindy and Lucy goodbye and give them a hug, as the tears well up again. I’ll miss them both, and I think Sadie will, too.

I look in all Ethan’s drawers until I find what I’m looking for. Then I take out the lipstick and get to work.

When the cab arrives, I look at what I’ve done and feel a sinking shame. It’s the actions of a child, and I want to erase it all, but I can’t. I need to leave. I close the door behind me, lugging my bags, and dragging Sadie with me. Locking the door, I push the keys through the letterbox. I know Ethan has a spare set on his car keyring.

Once in the cab, I stare out the window as we drive past the countryside and then through the upmarket town, before heading out for the modern estate me and Dad live on. By the time I arrive home, I’m regretting my little temper tantrum in Ethan’s kitchen. Way to look like an idiot. I open the door and step into the house with a shiver. The gorgeous weather has broken and it’s peeing it down, which matches my mood. I chat to Sadie as I take her lead off, and take my jacket off, desperately trying to keep my spirits up.