Building Love

Chapter 7

Vanessa sat on the edge of her bed, her breathing even but shallow, listening for any sign of Ethan leaving. The minutes dragged as she heard him moving around the apartment—drawers opening and slamming shut, muffled cursing under his breath.

She wasn’t going to check on him or rush him. This wasn’t his apartment; it never had been. Ethan had been living here on her dime for the better part of their relationship. Sure, he pitched in now and then—groceries, utilities—but she covered the rent. The thought made her laugh bitterly. How convenient it must have been for him to bite the hand that fed him.

Finally, the door creaked open, then shut firmly. The echo of it reverberated through the apartment, signaling that Ethan was gone. For good.

Vanessa exhaled slowly, her eyes closing for a moment as the silence settled around her.

Free. Finally.

But the relief was quickly followed by a wave of exhaustion, not just physical but emotional. She rubbed her temples, willing herself not to cry. Crying wasn’t for tonight. Tonight was for forgetting.

She stood and walked to her closet, scanning her wardrobe for something that didn’t scream “executive” or “heartbroken woman.” Her fingers landed on a sleek black dress she hadn’t worn in months. It was simple yet striking, the kind of dress that made her feel like a force to be reckoned with.

After a quick shower, Vanessa styled her hair loosely and applied a touch of makeup—just enough to feel confident. She caught her reflection in the mirror and tilted her chin up. This is for me.

She grabbed her clutch, slid on a pair of heels, and headed out the door.

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Vanessa stared into her fourth drink, the ice cubes clinking softly as she swirled the glass. The warm buzz of the alcohol had morphed into a heady fog, wrapping her in a cocoon of numbness. She wanted to forget Ethan, forget the betrayal, forget the part of her that had given up so much for someone who didn’t deserve it.

The bar was spinning slightly now, the lights hazy and dreamlike. Somewhere in the background, laughter echoed and music thumped, but it all felt distant. She leaned on the counter, her head heavy, as the bartender approached.

“Maybe it’s time to call it a night?” he suggested gently, concern flickering in his eyes.

Vanessa fumbled for her phone, nodding vaguely. “Yeah. Yeah, I should.”

After paying her tab with unsteady fingers, she stumbled toward the exit, pulling up the app on her phone to book a room at the nearby boutique hotel. It wasn’t far, just a block away, and she knew she couldn’t make it back to her apartment in this state.

The fresh air hit her like a shock, making her sway as she walked. By the time she reached the hotel, her vision was blurry, and her steps were uneven. The concierge gave her a polite smile, though she noticed his wary glance at her unsteady gait.

“Welcome, Ms. Hart,” he said, scanning her booking. “Here’s your room key. Suite 709.”

Vanessa mumbled a thank you and made her way to the elevator. The soft hum of the music in the elevator lulled her, and by the time the doors opened, she was barely keeping her eyes open. She staggered down the hallway, squinting at the numbers on the doors.

707… 708… Here we are.

She pushed open the door and stepped inside, the dim lighting of the suite doing little to help her foggy state of mind. She barely registered the large bed, the modern decor, or the faint smell of cologne in the air as she kicked off her heels and sank onto the plush mattress.

Vanessa didn’t notice the figure stirring on the other side of the bed until it was too late.

“Uh, excuse me?” a deep, groggy voice said, pulling her from the haze of her thoughts.

She turned, blinking at the man who had sat up in the bed. He was shirtless, his tousled dark hair catching the soft glow of the bedside lamp he had just switched on. His sharp features softened into confusion as he took her in.

“How are you here?” he asked, his tone cautious but not unkind.

Vanessa frowned, her drunken mind struggling to process. “This is my room,” she slurred, waving the key card in her hand.

The man glanced at the key card, then at the number on the inside of the door. “No, it’s not. You’re in 708.”

“709,” she corrected, her voice defiant. “They said 709.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, this is 709, and I booked this suite.”

Vanessa’s eyes narrowed as she tried to make sense of the situation. The alcohol clouding her judgment mixed with her heartbreak, leaving her defensive and stubborn.

“Whatever,” she muttered, collapsing back onto the bed. “I’m not leaving.”

The man blinked at her audacity, then laughed softly, shaking his head. “You’re drunk.”

“Thanks for the observation,” she said dryly, closing her eyes.

There was a pause before he spoke again, his tone gentler this time. “Are you okay?”

Vanessa’s eyes snapped open, meeting his. There was something genuine in his gaze, something that made her throat tighten. “No,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “Not even close.”

The man hesitated, then sighed. “Look, it seems like you’ve had a rough night. If you need to stay until morning, it’s fine. Just… take the couch.”

Vanessa shook her head stubbornly, her eyes welling up. “I’m not sleeping on a couch tonight.”

Something in her voice must have struck a chord, because he didn’t argue further. Instead, he leaned back against the headboard, watching her carefully.

She moved closer, emboldened by the alcohol, the pain in her chest spilling over into reckless abandon. “Can I ask you something?”

He raised an eyebrow, nodding slowly.

“Do you think… do you think I’m enough?”

The question hung in the air, raw and unfiltered. The man looked at her, his expression softening.

He sighed softly, "You." he paused, but not breaking our eye contact. "Are more than enough."

Vanessa blinked at him, her breath catching. She had no clue if he said that just to sooth her or was he being genuine, but at that moment, she didn't care because she wanted to believe him. His unwavering stare and the confidence displayed in his voice were the comfort and escape that she needed. So, before she could think better of it, she leaned forward, closing the space between them.

His lips parted in surprise, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he met her halfway. His kiss was hesitant at first, then deeper as the moment took over. Just the right amount to make her forget all of her sorrow.