Wishing Well(28)
Confusion filtered in when I noticed that Vincent had changed shirts, the white he’d worn earlier, now blue. It had to be him, I thought. The hair was the same, the build, the color of his skin, but yet there was something different I couldn’t put my finger on.
While I narrowed my eyes trying to see his face in the shadows, émilie wiped the tears from her eyes before standing from the bench. Slowly, she turned around, her shaky hands hiking up her skirt as she presented herself to the man at her back, her skirt pulled up to her waist as her hands moved to brace herself on the bench as he approached her.
My jaw dropped when Vincent, or whoever the man was, opened his pants, grabbed her hips and thrust inside her.
Fighting the urge to scream, or cry, or yell at myself for even caring, I tried, but failed miserably, to ignore the way my body reacted. Moans poured from émilie’s lips, her eyes squeezing tight as Vincent’s hand slapped her ass, each hard thrust of his hips knocking her forward while she held on to the bench to keep steady.
I’d been so fucking stupid to believe he would actually leave her for me. I deserved this awkward pain for even wanting a man that would jump from one woman to another. What kind of bitch did that make me?
Letting go of the curtain, I ran to my bed, threw myself on the mattress and gripped the sheets while burying my head in a pillow. I didn’t need to see anymore, didn’t want to admit to myself that just watching him fuck her was enough to hurt me.
Fuck, I was being stupid. I was being naive. I was being -
A muffled scream from outside drew my attention, a splash forcing me back to my feet. My fingers pulled aside the curtain again. I peered out from behind the partition to see Vincent looking down into the well.
What the fuck was going on?
Leaning over the stone rim, he pulled at something, an arm finally appearing from the water, émilie’s body slowly emerging. After tugging her over the side, he laid her on the ground beside the well, allowing seconds to pass before picking her up and carrying her toward the path leading back to the hotel. Her head was limp against his shoulder and I couldn’t tell if she was breathing. But before I could even make a guess, Vincent shot a look up toward my window, his eyes just barely missing mine. I allowed the curtain to fall back into place.
She couldn’t be dead.
She couldn’t.
Maybe she’d just tripped and fallen in?
Vincent was walking far too slowly for anything else. It made sense that it had been an accident because if émilie had died, Vincent would have been running or screaming for help.
My heart raced like it would tear from my chest, my breath coming so fast and hard that I stood frozen in one place not knowing whether to crawl back in bed or call the police.
Taking deep breaths, I attempted to calm my heart, forcing myself to crawl back in bed for fear I’d hear a knock at my door within minutes. Had he seen me watching? Had émilie just drowned? I didn’t fucking know and I slept horribly the rest of the night, every small noise forcing me awake, terrified that he’d known I was spying and would fire me.
The sun had just started rising when I finally gave up on sleep and sat on the edge of the bed, my head cradled in my hands. Within an hour, I’d convinced myself that my imagination was getting the best of me, that maybe the entire thing had been some bad dream. And with those thoughts in mind, I got up and got dressed, not wanting to be late for my second shift.
After taking the elevator down to the first floor employee hall, I weaved through the mazelike corridors, letting myself into the housekeeping department where Theresa stood folding sheets. Glancing at me, she smiled. “You’re right on time. It’s good to have an employee that cares about her job.”
Panic shot through my heart, my pulse like a trapped insect beneath my skin. Walking to the older woman with greying hair and a trim figure, I met her tired blue eyes with my own. “Is there a problem with another employee?”
Maybe émilie had never shown, not that the lounge opened earlier than six that night. I was being ridiculous, I kept insisting to myself.
“It’s émilie,” she breathed out, “one of my cocktail waitresses in the lounge. I guess the love affair she was having with another...” she paused, searching for a word, “...employee didn’t work out. She quit early this morning.”
Setting the sheet aside, she missed the way my body practically melted with relief. A dead person doesn’t quit, they just fail to show up, and if Theresa had heard from émilie already, it meant she was very much alive. While silently thanking God I hadn’t witnessed anything I shouldn’t, I leaned against a wall for support.
Turning to me, Theresa asked, “You don’t happen to know anybody who needs a job, do you? I need to fill émilie’s position quickly. We’re short staffed as it is.”
My hand was still over my chest when her inquisitive gaze met mine. Pushing myself up on unsteady legs, I shook my head, attempting not to sound as out of breath as I was. “No. Sorry. But if I run into anybody looking, I’ll be sure to send them your way.”
Theresa gave me an odd look, but decided against asking a question. “Okay, well, we’re waiting on the rest of today’s housekeeping staff to arrive. Once they get here, I’ll pass out room assignments and we can move forward with our day.”
“Sounds good,” I answered, studying my feet as I worked to get myself under control. After that particular night, I wondered if I’d be able to look Vincent in the eyes if I saw him, and if he’d seen me watching from behind the curtain.