Sleeping with my bodyguard

Sloane

The bra on the floor wasn’t mine.

Lace. Red. Bold.

My heart stuttered. My brain scrambled for an excuse.

The kind of truth that rewrites your entire love story in one breath.

I pushed the door open.

And I saw him.

Naked.

My knees buckled. The wine bottle slipped from my hands and hit the hardwood with a dull thud.

They both froze.

Evelyn’s eyes went wide as she scrambled to cover herself. “Sloane—”

I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I didn’t even blink.

Six hours earlier.

8:17 PM.

Still no call.

My smile faltered. I walked to the edge of the deck, gripping the railing as I stared out into the night. The trees swayed under the moonlight, but everything else felt still. Too still.

I told myself he was probably stuck in traffic. Or held up in a last-minute meeting. He said he’d be back from New York by tonight. He knew what today was.

He had to know.

I picked up my phone. No messages. No missed calls. I refreshed the screen. Nothing. My hands tightened, and I swallowed hard, forcing down the lump that had started building in my throat.

I turned back toward the beautiful scene behind me. The petals. The candles. The untouched dinner for two.

I sat down slowly on the edge of the chair, my spine stiff but my shoulders caving in. My fingers curled into my lap as I stared at the empty space across from me, still lit with soft golden light.

One minute passed. Then two. Then ten.

And still nothing.

I blinked back the sting in my eyes, but it was no use. A tear slid down my cheek, warm against the cool breeze. I quickly wiped it away and reached for the wine glass, taking a long, slow sip. My lips trembled around the rim.

Happy anniversary, Sloane.

He didn’t come.

I heard footsteps behind me, slow and steady against the wooden deck. I didn’t turn.

I didn’t need to.

A familiar scent drifted over me, clean, warm, and faintly like cedarwood. Then, something soft brushed over my shoulders. I looked down. A blazer. His blazer.

My fingers clutched it without thinking, pulling it tighter around me. It was still warm from his body.

“...He didn’t show up,” I whispered.

My voice cracked on the last word, barely holding itself together.

“He promised,” I said again, softer this time. My eyes stared at the empty chair in front of me, blurred by tears I hadn’t realized were still falling. “But… how could he forget?”

I let out a shaky breath, blinking rapidly as my vision clouded again. My chest tightened, the kind of ache that came from deep inside, like my heart was folding in on itself.

Today was supposed to be special.

It wasn’t just a date on the calendar. It was our day. The one day that came once a year. Our anniversary.

A moment I had been planning for weeks. A night I had built around love, around hope, around us.

But Reed never showed up.

Not a call. Not a text. Not even a lie.

Just silence.

I felt the chair beside me shift slightly as he sat down quiet, careful, giving me space but never leaving.

I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. I kept my eyes on the candles flickering around the heart-shaped petals.

What a great way to end the night

***

The soft sunlight spilled through the curtains, warm against my skin. I slowly sat up in bed, still wrapped in my silk robe, my hair a mess from the night before. My eyes felt heavy, like they’d been crying in my sleep.

Maybe they had.

I dragged myself out of bed and padded down the stairs barefoot. My feet sank into the soft rug as I turned the corner into the living room.

And there it was.

A massive round box filled with deep pink roses, sitting right in the center like some kind of crown.

I didn’t need to ask who it was from. I knew.

Reed.

This was his pattern. Mess up. Send flowers. Pretend it was all okay.

I let out a long sigh, rubbing my hand over my forehead. My eyes dropped to the small white note tucked between the petals. I reached out, slowly plucking it out.

"I’m so sorry, my love."