Chapter 7: Gia

When the Lyft finally rolls up, I practically hurtle myself into the backseat. The man peels away from the curb as if he's the get away driver for an armed robbery in progress. I peek out the back window, relieved to find there's no signs of life coming from the apartment building. Once we're six blocks away, I collapse against the backseat and squeeze my eyes shut.

Since I live on the southern end of the city, and the university is at the northern tip, the drive home should take about fifteen minutes. Although, at this time of the morning, the streets are deserted, and there isn't heavy traffic to maneuver around. As we navigate the streets, my mind tumbles back to last night.

To Liam.

Liam.

I can't say the name doesn't fit him perfectly. There's something sexy about his edgy hairstyle and all the colorful ink that decorates his body.

Did I happen to mention that he drove us to his apartment on a sleek black motorcycle?

You better believe it was cold out last night.

But seriously, who gives a damn?

Hot is hot. Even when it's freeze-your-ass-off cold out.

He's the kind of guy who looks like he belongs front and center in an alternative rock band. Since I know nothing about him-other than the fact that he attends Barnett University-he very well could be. We didn't exactly swap life stories last night.

The only reason I know his name is because one of his roommates (I'm assuming that's who big and bigger were) mentioned it. I kind of wish he hadn't. The last thing I need to do is attach a name to that gorgeous face. The less I know, the better off I'll be. This was strictly a one-time deal. There won't be any encore performances, thank you very much.

Harper has been nagging me for weeks to take the plunge and get back out there again. After three years of a monogamous relationship, I'm a little rusty when it comes to picking up or being picked up by guys.

That being said-I'm fairly certain that I rectified the situation last night. A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips. There's a good chance it will be plastered there for the rest of the day.

It lasts for roughly two more minutes before falling off my face as we roll up to my house. There's a man sitting outside on the front porch steps. He's more than likely freezing his butt off even though the sun is already shining brightly.

Tyler.

As in-it's my ex-boyfriend, Tyler.

I shake my head in hopes that I'm having some sort of sleep deprived delusion. When he doesn't disappear from sight, I blink a few times.

Damn.

What's he doing here?

I glance at my phone to check the time. It's not even eight o'clock in the morning. That thought sinks to the bottom of my belly like a massive stone.

By force of habit, my hand drifts to my head, attempting to smooth down the wild tangle of my hair. It's not like I had time to freshen up before taking off like a bat out of hell. I'm lucky that I was able to find all my stuff.

"Yeah, that's not going to work, lady."

A deep, gravelly voice knocks me from those thoughts and my attention slices to the rearview mirror only to lock on humor-filled eyes staring back at me.

Sadly, he's probably right.

I blow out a steady breath as my gaze skitters to the front of my house and Tyler who now stares at the vehicle. He's the last person I want to deal with. I had my heart set on soaking my sore muscles in a hot bubble bath while sipping a ginormous cup of coffee before slipping between my flannel sheets and taking a nap.

I watch in dismay as Tyler trots down the cement walkway toward the curb. My heart sinks with every rushed step.

"Gianna, where have you been? I've been worried sick about you. Didn't you come home last night?" His voice elevates with each question.

It's on the tip of my tongue to pull a plausible excuse out of my ass as to where I spent the night until I remember that we're no longer together. I don't owe him any explanations. What I do with my time is no longer Tyler's concern.

Instead of making up an excuse, I straighten my shoulders before asking a question of my own. "What are you doing here?"

He stares at me silently as his gaze rakes over my disheveled appearance. I have to tighten my hands in an effort not to smooth over everything that is wrinkled, standing on end, or out of place.

His voice remains tempered as he says, "I was hoping we could talk."

I fold my arms across my chest. We've been down this road before. Numerous times. And nothing has changed. And furthermore, nothing will change between us.

When I finally worked up the courage to sit down with Tyler and tell him that I thought it would be better for us to go our separate ways, he ended up agreeing with the idea. I mean, sure, he kicked up a bit of a fuss in the beginning, but it certainly wasn't enough for me to reconsider my decision.

Apparently, something has changed during the last month. He's been calling and texting nonstop, wanting to work things out between us. I keep hearing lots of-it'll be different this time and I'll scale back at work as much as I can.

Do I believe it?

Not for a minute.

Tyler loves his job.

And that's great.

For Tyler.

It's not so great if you want to spend time with him and do things as a couple. He goes in early, stays late, and is normally gone on Saturdays. He's even been known to sneak out of the house early Sunday morning before I'm awake.

Don't get me wrong, both his dedication and single-minded focus are admirable traits and qualities. This isn't a job to him. It's not something he's doing to fill time and draw a paycheck.

This is a career. One he loves.

The state of our relationship was slammed home when I tried to picture what our lives would look like a few years down the road. And that was me raising our kids on my own.

That's not the kind of life I want for myself.

Or my hypothetical children.

Better to end things now when the stakes aren't so high.

"We've already talked about this," I remind gently. "Nothing has changed. And nothing is going to change. We both know that." I, for one, can accept it. I just wish Tyler hadn't gotten it into his head that we should try and work out our differences. My guess is that he came to the realization that starting up a new relationship requires a time commitment he doesn't have or isn't willing to put forth. Therefore, it's easier to stick it out with me.

That's not exactly a ringing endorsement for us to get back together.

"But I love you, baby."

Even though I'm trying to hold strong, something in my heart softens at the declaration. Tyler isn't a bad guy. Not at all. I just think there are other people out there that we're both better suited to.

I understand that even if he doesn't.

He takes a step in my direction, cautiously closing the distance between us. When I stand my ground, he stops about a foot away. One hand drifts to my cheek before cupping the side of my face in his palm. I cringe at the notion of him touching me when I was in another man's bed less than an hour ago.

"Can we go inside and talk?" When I fail to respond, he adds, "Please?"

Confusion flickers through me as I stare into Tyler's hazel eyes. My decision to break up with him wasn't made lightly. I didn't wake up one morning and arbitrarily decide to end things. I agonized over it for weeks. In fact, I told him a few months before I pulled the plug that I was unhappy with his work schedule. At that point, he claimed there was nothing he could do about it.

Now that he's here, standing outside my house, guilt swirls through me and I feel myself caving even though I know I won't change my stance on our relationship.

Penance.

I almost groan as the word tumbles through my head.

That's exactly what this is.

This is my penance for last night.