The Thrill of It (No Regrets Book 2) by Lauren Blakely

Author:Lauren Blakely [Blakely, Lauren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lauren Blakely Books
Published: 2013-11-20T18:30:00+00:00

16

Harley

I stare at the window in the door, unable to move, even though he’s long gone.

I close my eyes briefly, wondering if this is the end of my penance, if this is how I finally escape my past. If this is the moment when I am finally good again with the universe, when I have paid back all that I have done. Maybe this is my final amends.

Losing him. Losing Trey.

But was I really that bad?

Yes.

The answer is always yes.

I will always pay for what I did because I sold myself. I can try to hedge it, I can sugarcoat it by calling myself an escort, by having laid down limits, but in the end, I did what I did. I chose what I chose. And unlike the girls my mother features in her articles, I wasn’t forced, I wasn’t coerced. I willingly walked men like dogs, dirty-talked to them, and told them lies about lingerie. Then I took the money and laughed with my pimp.

My man.

My Cam.

I collapse in a cross-legged heap on the dirty, faded yellow linoleum floor of this apartment building, and I clutch the bag Cam sent me, a life preserver in the shitstorm of my day, my life. I hold it tightly and reread the note, lingering on the last lines.

Who takes care of you?

That’s right. Who does?

Has there ever been any question? Has there ever been any other answer but Cam? He is the only person who has ever been there for me. Who doesn’t cringe or sneer or judge my past. Who doesn’t leave. Cam accepts me for who I am and loves me for me. And he doesn’t even try to fuck me—or fuck with me. He is the only person I can rely on. When my world spins wildly into the sewer, he alone can pluck me out.

He is the choice in my life. I chose him once; I can choose him again. Joanne has urged me to take ownership of my actions, so I damn well will take ownership of this one.

Of this choice I’m making that is mine and mine alone.

I reach into the bag, open the box, and gasp when I see a long, flowy dress the color of champagne. It’s gorgeous, and it’s nothing a whore would wear.

I run my tired hands over the dress—it is the only thing beautiful in my ugly life. I can’t rely on my mother. I am wrung dry from her, worn out and tattered from her cruel words. Nor can I lean on Trey—he proved that. I thought I was falling in love, but he walked out without even giving me a chance to explain.

I rest my cheek against the soft chiffon. This. This is all I can depend on.

Power. Control. Manipulation.

Because there is no such thing as love. Love is a fiction, a fable, an ode spun by poets and drunks, a fantastical tale told across one thousand and one nights. It’s the genie in the bottle, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, the lie designed to seduce you.

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