was convinced that if Rush woke, their beautifully sexy night together would be ruined by a strange morning-after awkwardness.
He would lie and say he would call her. She would trip on the carpet and fall.
He would be shocked at who he had fallen into bed with, and Chantal didn’t want to see the look of disappointment on his face.
Any other exchange between her and Rush would be a pure, painful disaster. She much preferred sneaking off without a word. This way, she could keep the perfect memory of the night tucked away in her heart. She knew that Rush was the man all future men would be compared to. She knew the sex would be impossible to live up to, but at least they’d had those wonderful hours together.
With all of the stealth she could muster, Chantal slid on her dress and slipped on her shoes before creeping out of the hotel room. She held the thick, heavy door, letting it close slowly behind her. She raced down the hall, all the way to the spiral staircase and into the lobby. She would have to call up to Gwen’s room to get her purse and clothes back. Hopefully, the hotel staff wouldn’t give her a hard time with that. The sooner she could be back in her apartment, the better.
“Chacha!” Margie cried, giggling like a schoolgirl as she bounded down the stairs. “Why are you still here?”
Chantal was blushing, and she really didn’t want to answer. Even if it was pretty damn obvious why she was creeping out of a hotel on New Year’s Day.
“Did that sexy stranger take you to his bedroom and have his way with you?”
She looked away, not wanting to answer. But, of course, Margie was the queen of one-night-stands; she recognized all of the signs. Her best friend leaped toward her, hopping like a mangy little bunny.
“You had sex! You finally broke the dry spell.”
“Easy,” Chantal muttered under her breath. “I don’t really want to release that information to the entire hotel.”
“Oh, pooh.” Margie dismissed her modesty with a nonchalant shrug. “Let’s discuss this in our Ryde.” She held up her phone, opened it to the rideshare app. “We’re going to your place because you have all that awesome hangover food.”
After retrieving Chantal’s stuff, which only took Margie name-dropping Jeremy. Then they made their way through the luxurious lobby to the window where they waited for the red car with the white racing stripes to pick them up. Chantal had never used the rideshare app, but in an evening gown on January 1st was hardly the best day for that. The driver, a young man named Tony, gave them an amused side-eye all the way to her apartment.
Finally in her safe home, Chantal was thankful that Margie was too busy giggling and looking down at her phone to drill her about her evening. It was already pretty obvious what had transpired. No amount of dissecting and play-by-play would help Chantal deal with the keen sense of loss sitting in the bottom of her heart and in the pit of her stomach.
This was exactly why she didn’t do one-night-stands.
She got too attached. She couldn’t stop thinking about Rush and his green eyes. The way he smiled at her. The sound he made when he was—Chantal shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts as she stuffed her purse in her closet.
Margie kicked off her shoes, slipped off her gown, letting it fall onto the floor as she went into Chantal’s room. She came back out wearing a pair of sweatpants and tee that were so baggy on Margie, Chantal felt a sharp pain in her chest. Margie was the kind of woman who had sexual adventures with sexy men like Rush.
Not her.
It was for the best that she had left.
Margie took a slice of bread from the pantry before plopping down on the sofa. She tore a bit of the crust off and took a dainty bite. “Okay. We’re officially alone. Are you going to tell me what happened last night?”
“No. I still need to process,” Chantal answered from her bedroom as she changed into pajamas. When she moved, her hair smelled like Rush. Was that even possible? Was she hallucinating smells? What the hell had that man’s cock done to her?
“Oh, come on. At least tell me the dude’s name. Was it good? Was he nice? Are you seeing him again?”
“Jeez, Margie. I thought you said you had a hangover.”
Without another word, Margie finished off