BooksBarbecue
Back First Comes Love
Chapters (92)
  1. First
  2. Love Connection
  3. Zero
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. One Month Later
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Six Months Later
  21. Sixteen
  22. Seventeen
  23. Eighteen
  24. Nineteen
  25. Twenty
  26. Twenty-one
  27. Twenty-two
  28. Twenty-three
  29. Twenty-four
  30. Six Months Later
  31. Twenty-five
  32. Twenty-six
  33. Twenty-seven
  34. Twenty-eight
  35. Twenty-nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-one
  38. Thirty-two
  39. Thirty-three
  40. I Have Never
  41. One
  42. Two
  43. Three
  44. Four
  45. Five
  46. Six
  47. Seven
  48. Eight
  49. Nine
  50. Ten
  51. Eleven
  52. Twelve
  53. Thirteen
  54. Fourteen
  55. Fifteen
  56. Sixteen
  57. Seventeen
  58. Eighteen
  59. Nineteen
  60. Twenty
  61. Twenty-one
  62. Twenty-two
  63. A Christmas Date
  64. One
  65. Two
  66. Three
  67. Four
  68. Five
  69. Six
  70. Seven
  71. Eight
  72. Nine
  73. Ten
  74. Eleven
  75. Twelve
  76. Thirteen
  77. Fourteen
  78. Fifteen
  79. Sixteen
  80. Seventeen
  81. Eighteen
  82. Nineteen
  83. Twenty
  84. Twenty-one
  85. Twenty-two
  86. Note from the Author
  87. Sneak Peek – To the Stars and Back
  88. Two
  89. Three
  90. Four
  91. Also by Camilla Isley
  92. About the Author

All I want to do is sleep, but my brain is too jacked up to let me. But as my body begins to warm up after being out in the cold for the better part of the afternoon, the heavy blankets and hypnotic purring sound start to win. Weariness takes over, and I doze off.

When I open my eyes again, there’s a faint light coming in through the windows. How long did I sleep? The bedside table clock tells me it’s half past six in the morning. Oh, so I was out cold all evening and night. I sit up in bed feeling slightly sick and dizzy, my stomach protesting loudly. Figures. I’ve had nothing to eat since yesterday at breakfast, when the world still seemed like a good place.

I sneak down to the kitchen, brew a pot of dark coffee, and eat a leftover cinnamon bun. Before anyone wakes up, I go back to my room. Unfortunately, caged up in here, my brain starts obsessing again. I’d like to be one of those proud women who can flip a switch and immediately move on with their lives after being dumped. But I’m not. So, less than an hour later, I text Diego. No reply comes. I call him once, twice, with no result. I write him an email begging him to pick up the phone. Text him again. Call.

Nothing.

There’s only silence on the other side.

By midday, my depression is turning into seething anger. How dare he sleep with me and then run away the next day without a word? So, yeah, I made a mistake. I wasn’t one hundred percent honest with him from the start. But our relationship became something neither of us expected, and at least I was ready to stand and face my mistakes. Like an adult would. He’s just a child running away.

Or maybe it was all in my head. He never promised me anything; our being together always had a deadline. Diego just pulled the plug three days early. He probably never imagined a future for us back in Manhattan. He had a little side fun on the job while he was here, and that was it.

But he gave the money back.

It doesn’t matter. It’s an insignificant detail. All his other actions speak volumes. He doesn’t want to be with me? Well, then, I sure as hell don’t want to be with him! I’ve been perfectly happy without a man for the longest time, and I was a fool to bare my soul to a perfect stranger.

I only need to seal my heart back into its bunker and go back to being the rational, sensible woman I was before. Cold, professional, detached.