Breathe In (Just Breathe, #1)(179)
Panic engulfs my chest. I quickly text Jared that I’m heading home, unable to sleep and wanting to sleep in my own bed. I grab my bags, change my clothes and stuff the dress in. No need to worry about it getting wrinkled now. I dart to the bathroom to check my appearance. No need to look like a complete and utter mess, giving away to anyone I see that I just had sex. I brush my hair, wash my face and then stuff my bathroom things into the toiletry bag.
I press the button on the room phone. After a pleasant greeting, I inform the receptionist that I need to have a cab waiting for me downstairs. The woman from the front desk informs me I’ll have to wait about fifteen minutes. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I chide myself for not calling first.
With my knee vigorously shaking, all I can do is sit and wait for the desk to call me back to let me know that the cab has arrived. The minutes click by painstakingly slow. I swear that time is traveling backward just to spite me.
I dart out the door before getting the call that the cab has arrived. I’m hoping it will be there waiting by the time I get to the lobby.
As quickly and quietly as I can, I hurry down the hallway to the elevators. I push the button several times, hoping that it will coming faster. What is taking so long? Everyone should be asleep. The elevator should be here by now.
What feels like five minutes later, the elevator dings and gradually opens. Getting myself situated, I take a deep breath, hoping it will calm my nerves, and then I press the button for the lobby. The doors don’t close right away. I press the button that is supposed to make the doors close sooner, but nothing happens. I try again.
The sound of knocking on a door down the hall gently echoes into the elevator. My eyes fly wide open and I don’t blink.
A voice whispers followed by the knock again. “Emma?” the voice says a little louder this time.
Close damn it. Close! Why is this elevator not closing?
I don’t tip my head to the left when I hear my name called slightly louder a third time.
Ding. The elevator door begins to slide closed at what feels like five seconds per centimeter.
My phone chirps at half volume in my purse. My body freezes, unable to move.
The doors seal shut.
I hurry across the lobby to the front doors where I’m greeted by the cab driver who just arrived and offers to take my bags. There’s no need to check out since I did that over the phone with the desk and left my room key on the dresser in the room.
The cabbie politely opens the back door for me before he takes my bags to the trunk. Just as the driver turns the car on, I swear I hear my name being called. Not looking back, I instruct the drive where to take me.
Right as the vehicle pulls away from the St. Regis, my phone chirps again. Don’t look back, Emma. Don’t look back. When the car reaches the end of the circle driveway that leads out onto the main road, I continue to fight the urge to look back. My phone chirps again. Pulling it out of my purse, my eyes confirm that it’s Joe calling. Unable to deal with the situation, I turn my phone off.
An ugly feeling stirs in the pit of my stomach. A feeling I’ve never felt before. I feel nauseous. On top of the nausea, there’s a tightening pain forming in my chest that is making it hard to breathe. What the hell is happening? A single tear trickles down my right cheek and I quickly wipe it away. My mouth feels like it’s getting dryer by the second as moisture builds up in my eyes. No. No tears. No crying. What the hell is happening to me?
Breathe, Emma. Just breathe.