I thought briefly about … finishing myself, but I couldn't bring myself to relax enough to do it. The bed is rumpled and smells like perfume, and I'm pretty sure that it isn't Austin's which in turn makes me wonder who was here last night. I mean, I know he isn't mine and he doesn't owe me anything, but the thought of Austin in this bed with another woman bothers me so much that I strip the whole thing down and call the front desk for new linens. I ring my hands while I wait, pacing back and forth in front of the TV and staring at the phone on the nightstand. Should I call my family? Should I call Christy? The pressure in my head gets so bad that by the time the linens arrive, I've already got my purse on my shoulder and am debating heading downstairs for a glass of wine in the lobby restaurant. Austin told me not to leave, but then, he also didn't tell me he had perfume and God knows what else all over his bed. I wrench the door open and find two men waiting for me.
