Free Sheer Luck by Kelly Moran Page B

seemed. We were at a
stalemate and both knew it. The end was here. If I were a more
selfish bastard, I’d erase that haunted, hopeful look in her eyes
with a promise to keep her, take her all over the world to fill
that beautiful mind. But she’d changed something in me, and I
couldn’t risk her not having the full, wonderful life she deserved.
My family’s curse would break her. Would, in turn, break me.
    Her throat worked a swallow. “We didn’t
follow the rules.” We, not you .
    I shook my head. “No, we didn’t.” And I
regretted not one second. Come tomorrow, I’d be sorry as hell, miss
her like oxygen underwater, but never regret. She could never be my
happy ending, but she would be the only memory of happy.
    Determined not to make our last hours
together sheer misery, I leaned forward and kissed her. I could
take her right here on the couch, against the wall, or bent over
the table. We’d completed her fantasy list and mine, had sex in
every imaginable position but one. Missionary. It was the way her
other lovers had been with her, the reason why she agreed to my
offer in the first place. Call me sentimental, but I didn’t want
the last time we made love to be about position.
    Carrying her to the bedroom, I set her on
her feet and undressed her slowly, taking the time to kiss every
inch of skin I exposed. She did the same for me with lingering
touches and gentle caresses, then lay on the bed. I covered her
with my body, kissing her for what seemed like hours, days, telling
her with my lips what I couldn’t say aloud.
    And when I entered her, when we came
together with gazes locked and hearts pounding in sync, I knew it
would be the last time.

Day Seven

     
    I didn’t want to
open my eyes. If I did, any remnants of Lily ever having been in my
apartment would be gone. Not just because she had to go to work,
but because she would’ve thought a clean break would be the
easiest. Her things would not be where they’d been the past week.
Her toothbrush next to mine in the bathroom, her clothes hanging on
my closet door, her shoes in the foyer. Even her scent on my sheets
would fade.
    Fuck. Moisture burned behind my lids. My
throat was raked raw with unshed tears. A black, crushing weight
resided where my heart used to be. I could only imagine how my
grandfather, my dad, or Aiden had felt after losing their loves.
I’d only had mine a week and I couldn’t open my eyes to face her
absence.
    Last night, I’d fought sleep. I’d stared at
her long lashes fanning her cheeks, her pouty lips, her dark hair
on my pillow, and tried to commit every detail of her features to
memory. As if by any stretch I’d forget her. Eventually, I’d
succumbed to exhaustion and had fallen asleep with my arm banded
around her. If I imagined hard enough, she’d still be there, tucked
to my side.
    I laid in bed too long, and when I couldn’t
take it anymore, I lifted my lids. No Lily. No anything. Gone.
Nausea rolled in my gut.
    Sucking a harsh inhale, I climbed out of
bed. Bathroom. Email. Gym. Shower.
    When I finally made it to the kitchen to try
to force some kind of food down, my lungs stalled. Right by the
coffeepot was a...Little. Pink. Note. A sound like a wounded animal
filled my kitchen, and damn. It came from me.
    I couldn’t bring myself to read it. If she
had scrawled something like, thanks for everything or I
had a great time , I just might lose my shit. Permanently.
    So, I made coffee and drank it in her
favorite spot by the bank of windows. The brew sat like acid in my
gut as I stared out at St. Louis, wondering what she was doing
right now. If she felt as gutted as me. If it had been hard for her
to leave. Somehow, I knew both the answers were yes. I hadn’t been
alone in this. I saw it in her eyes, felt it in her touch last
night. Which only made things worse.
    Frustrated, I went for a long walk to blow
off restless energy and told Aiden I’d pick up Liam from school.
Time with the nephew would do me some