Confused

Rafe sat at the yacht’s bow sofa, a glass of whiskey in one hand and his head filled with thoughts of Talia.

She must have gotten the email by now, he thought to himself, flooded with a mix of guilt and shame.

For the first time in his life, Rafe had run from a fight. Knowing Talia’s reaction and refusing to face it had chased him out of the office early. He had also for the first time in his life knocked off work early and, making it worse, not for the most honorable of reasons. He had taken the cowards way out and scheduled the email to go out an hour after he had left the office, all to avoid the confrontation that was sure to come. The shame, also due to another cowardly act, had him reject her project proposal without even opening the cover page to read it.

He sighed heavily, rubbing his free hand over his face. She haunted him, in his sleep and in his waking hours. He closed his eyes and sighed. He couldn’t count with both hands