Even though they had spent less than twenty-four hours together, he felt that he knew her enough to say that taking a man home on the first night was not something she did often.
He lifted his hands behind his head and lay in the warmth of her sheets, thinking back over the night. It had been amazing and he wished it could be the beginning of something deeper between them but he couldn’t do that to her. He would end it as quickly as it had begun, just the way he always did. But this time it felt different.
As he slowly lifted his head from her pillow and climbed from the bed, he felt a sudden ache inside for what he was ending so abruptly. He paused and looked back at the crumpled bed where Flick had been lying and he felt a strange feeling of regret. This was nothing like other mornings when he left a woman’s bed. This time he was fighting the urge to stay and if she walked out of the bathroom, with or without her towel and smiled her gorgeous warm smile, he knew he would not leave. This time he wanted to stay.
But she didn’t come out. The shower was not running but she was still behind the door. He wasn’t sure if she really did want him to go. Perhaps he didn’t know her the way he thought.
And perhaps it was for the best.
He wasn’t looking for long term. He was fooling himself to think he could make it more than what it was. It wouldn’t be fair to Flick to let her think he intended pursuing a relationship, and marriage would never be on the table. Tristan had good reason for not considering himself husband material but he wasn’t about to share that with a woman after only one night, no matter how amazing the night had been and how he thought he felt about her. His reasons were solid and not negotiable.
Her diplomatic disappearance under the shower made Tristan think that she didn’t want an awkward morning-after goodbye. But knowing she was within arm’s reach behind a thin wooden door tugged at a place deep inside Tristan. It was a feeling he’d never experienced before. He looked around her apartment, knowing he would never be there again. Yesterday had been different. His visit had been casual but now they had crossed the line there was no way he would ever return.
One night would be all they would share. One breath-taking night, his body reminded him as he stepped over the sea of clothes that lay strewn over the wooden floor. Her expensive dress entwined with his tuxedo just as their bodies had all night. Collecting his belongings, Tristan dressed quickly. He picked up his keys and after slipping them in his trouser pocket, along with his mobile phone, he left. The bathroom door opened just as he quietly closed the front door and made his way down the steps to his car.
Pausing for a moment to look back up at Flick’s apartment, Tristan breathed a heartfelt sigh. He wished that life could be different and he could have stayed in the softness of her bed, wrap his arms around her naked body and persuade her to see if what they had could be more than just one night.
But one night was all he could offer.
And it appeared it was all she wanted.
Flick stepped out of the bathroom. Finally her heart had won over her head in the steam-filled room. Maybe, just maybe they could make something more from their crazy, wonderful night. Perhaps she could learn to trust him and let him into her life despite the way they’d rushed into sleeping together. She was willing to try and she wanted to tell him just that as she slipped back into his arms. Her freshly scrubbed face was lit with the promise of what they might share.
Her stomach sank as she looked at the bed. It was empty. She looked around the room. Tristan’s clothes, his keys, all sign of him had gone. He had left, without any goodbye; he had just climbed from her bed and walked out of her apartment.
His action spoke louder than any words ever could. There was no tomorrow to plan—nothing more to talk about. Clearly for him it had just been for one night.
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