Bitterly Sweetly (Completed)

Chapter Forty: In Love

He left without a word.

That was when a crucial fear knotted in her guts.

What if he wouldn't talk to her ever again?

The outrageous possibility sounded like doom warming over the entire universe.

After having a taste of the splendid communication they shared with each other—and with each other only, she was now absolutely afraid of even thinking about losing it.

And she couldn't anymore decipher which fear was bigger at this point—the fear of getting weak and risking her own destruction again or the fear of losing him again.

As she stood under the shower head, the hot stream of water doing wonders to the knots in her shoulders, she thought of all those times since she was hospitalized. He had been nothing but the most charming man a woman could dream of. The ways he cared for her, worried over her—it all replayed in her mind. His soul-tearing smile, breath-stopping, heated gazes, innuendos, teasing, and his simplest of touches sizzling her skin like it were a chick-flick novel or a movie. The easy conversations she had with him till so late last night, those silly arguments and laughs that filled her entire world with colors she had never seen before.

Putting on her pajamas and an old t-shirt, she dragged her feet towards the hauntingly lonely bed.

She didn't even bother to comb her hair or dry them. And therefore, when she dropped her head onto the pillow, it instantly started to get wet from her dripping hair, but she was beyond caring about that.

Minutes and hours passed, and the scary tick-tock of the wall clock came from outside her room. The morbid thing was hung on the wall just beside the staircase.

Her ears rang, hearing an owl continuously hoot outside her wide-open window. She lay wide awake, sprawled pathetically on the bed. And she was brave enough to admit to herself that she was waiting for Max to knock on her door again, wanting to hang out at such an ungodly hour of the night and then, probably, accidentally fall asleep in her bed again.

She sighed when it was four in the morning.

This Max had become a serious bad habit, an addiction that would just not leave her alone.

Finally, having enough of it, she groaned aloud, then screamed, muffling her mouth into the pillow. Springing up to a sitting position, she clutched at her hair in frustration.

"I hate to do this, but...," she mumbled to herself, glaring daggers at the pillow next to her own—the pillow Max had slept on last night. "And I know this is probably wrong and weird at so many levels, but... Hell!"

And she lunged for the pillow and pressed her face into it. Nuzzling her nose into the softness, she breathed in his scent. Her insides coated with peace at last. Her mind went dizzy enough that her eyes drooped closed. Sleepily she touched her cheek, amused at the feeling of them heating up under her fingertips, realizing he was capable of making her flush even when he was not around. His scent was enough. His memories were enough.

Sofia rushed downstairs to have breakfast in the morning, hoping to see if his mood had returned to normal after the night.

Debbie poured her a cup of tea as she helped herself with toast and jam. She watched the time on her wrist watch, biting onto the toast absentmindedly. He should have been down by now.

Where was he?

Her unvoiced question was answered by Debbie then.

"Ma'am, sir, I didn't want to disrupt your sleep. He told me to let you know that he had to go to London for a few days urgently. Said something about an eleventh-hour case turning up over there that needs his presence straightaway."