Too Late For His Regret Now

Aubrey POV: I walked into the cramped guest room like a ghost. This was where I slept. It was also where Jeanie stored her out-of-season coats and old luggage. I didn't even have the right to share the master bedroom's walk-in closet. I sat down on a taped-up cardboard box, pulled my knees to my chest, and wrapped my arms around my legs. My heart was slamming against my ribs like a trapped bird. Down the hall, heavy footsteps approached the master bedroom. Kieran was turning in for the night. A minute later, the muffled sound of the shower running echoed through the wall. I took a deep, shaky breath. I stood up. I had to know for sure. I pushed open the door to the master bedroom. The air was thick with the scent of Kieran's expensive cedarwood cologne. The bathroom door was shut tight. The rushing water masked the sound of my bare feet on the hardwood floor. Kieran's black smartphone was tossed carelessly on the messy duvet. I stared at the sleek black rectangle. It looked like a bomb waiting to detonate. I stepped closer to the edge of the bed. My fingers were trembling uncontrollably. Suddenly, the screen lit up. A short, sharp vibration buzzed against the mattress. I gasped and snatched my hand back as if the phone had burned me. A notification popped up on the lock screen. The sender's name was *Carolina*. I leaned in, holding my breath. The message preview read: *Goodnight, handsome. Still thinking about your hands on me.* My stomach dropped into a bottomless pit. A second later, another message popped up: *Looking forward to the bridal fitting tomorrow.* *Bridal fitting.* Those two words acted like a serrated knife dragging across my retinas. A wave of intense dizziness hit me. The room spun. I reached out and gripped the edge of the heavy oak nightstand to keep from collapsing to the floor. The sound of the shower abruptly stopped. Panic spiked through my veins. My heart hammered so violently it hurt. I spun around, ready to sprint out of the bedroom. But my knees buckled. My legs felt like lead. I couldn't move fast enough to reach the door. The brass handle of the bathroom door began to turn. Survival instinct took over. I dove onto Kieran's side of the bed, yanked the heavy duvet over my shoulders, and turned my back to the bathroom. The door opened. Kieran stepped out, a towel around his waist, damp heat rolling off his skin. Through my eyelashes, I saw his shadow fall over the bed. He stopped. He looked at the lump I made under the covers. I could feel his frown. He walked over to the bed, picked up his phone, and tapped the screen. A small, satisfied smile touched his lips. I squeezed my eyes shut. I slowed my breathing, making it deep and even. It was a trick I learned in the foster homes when the older kids came looking for a punching bag in the dark. Kieran didn't try to wake me. He just reached over and clicked off the bedside lamp. The room plunged into darkness. The mattress dipped as Kieran climbed into bed behind me. I lay perfectly still. I could feel the subtle, rhythmic vibrations of the mattress. He was typing. He was replying to her, right beside me. Every vibration was a boot stomping on my dignity. Hot tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. They slid down my nose and soaked silently into the high-thread-count cotton pillowcase. I opened my eyes to the dark room. The last shred of warmth I held for this man vanished into thin air. "You are completely on your own now."