Cold Shoulder

Melanie

I slept in the apartment alone.

I packed the few things that I had and prepared to be picked up in the morning.

Life as I knew it would be forever changed tomorrow. Once I left this place, I wouldn’t be Melanie ever again.

As with every night since Raven had left, I could hardly sleep. It wasn’t just the fact that she was gone. It was the fact that I was alone, footsteps from strangers audible on the other side of my doorstep, the sounds of the cars and ambulances loud from the street outside my window.

The only sound I heard at the palace was the fireplace.

The next morning, I sat on the couch with my packed bag beside me. My hands were in my lap and my shoulders slumped, waiting for whoever Fender sent to retrieve me. Footsteps came a moment later, belonging to a single man.

I inhaled a deep breath and waited for them to step inside. I’d left the door unlocked.

A knock sounded. “Melanie?”

I recognized that voice immediately, like I still listened to it every single day. “Gilbert? It’s open.” I rose to my feet and grabbed my bag.

He let himself inside, dressed in jeans and a shirt.

I stilled at his appearance because all I’d ever seen him in was a tuxedo or his pajamas. Sunglasses hung down the front of his shirt, and his snug jeans fit his hard body like a glove.

He took a step inside, and with his typical snootiness, he examined the apartment with obvious disapproval. He moved to the kitchen island, dragged his finger across the surface, and then turned it over to see the dark smudge of dirt there. He rubbed his fingers together to remove it. “Charming…”

I approached with my arms raised, eager to hug him even though I’d never hugged him before. I moved into his chest and wrapped my arms around his neck. “I missed you.”

He didn’t return the embrace. After a few seconds, he grabbed my bag off my shoulder and stepped back. “Is that everything?” He scanned the apartment with disdain, like he hoped all I would take was this single bag of items, and if he had it his way, probably not even that.

“Yeah.”

He turned to the door then stopped when he spotted a small drop of blood on the wall near the baseboards. He turned to me and gave me a headshake of disapproval.

“That wasn’t me—”