Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
He didn’t say anything back. He just let the silence speak for him.
I loved that he didn’t interrogate me. I loved that he didn’t pry. He was a gardener, and he let me bloom at my own pace. “I left him. I’m at the Ritz.” I wasn’t sure why I told him the hotel, like I expected him to run straight to me.
He didn’t say anything.
“He said he wanted to end the arrangement. Said he wanted it just to be us. If he had asked me that sooner, I might have done it. But it’s too late now.”
“I hope it’s not because of me—but because you deserve better.”
I wasn’t sure what I’d expected him to say, but I was disappointed by his choice of words. “It’s both.”
He turned quiet again.
I expected more from him, expected him to comfort me the way he did when he showed up at the gallery, expected him to tell me everything would be alright. But he was dead silent, like he wasn’t even there. “Is something wrong?”
Silence.
“Because—because you feel different.”
He was quiet again, the stretch of time seeming to last forever. “I’ve had a rough week.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes. My life just got complicated.”
“Can I ask how?”
There was silence and then a heavy sigh.
“Can—can I come over?” Self-loathing rushed through me as I heard my own desperation. He purposely put distance between us, but I ignored it because I wanted him so much. Would settle for a different version of him, even though I needed all of him.
There was a long pause before he answered. “I’ll come to you. What’s your room number?”
“Two sixty-two.”
“I’ll be there soon, sweetheart.”
I cleaned myself up a bit because I looked like a train wreck. Mascara stains were all over the duvet, so I washed the marks off my face and started over. I reapplied my makeup—but skipped the eyeliner and mascara in case those streaked again.
A knock sounded on the door.
My heart jumped when I heard it. The walk to the door felt like a mile rather than a couple feet. When I opened it, I saw the dark eyes that followed me everywhere in my dreams. They could be lethal, but when they looked at me with softness, they were harmless like a cup of coffee or the soil after a light rain.
He took me in before he stepped into my room and let the door shut automatically behind him. Every time I saw him, I forgot how tall he was, even taller than Bolton. But all he did was look at me. There was no embrace with his lips or his arms. There was no warmth to protect me from the cold.
If he wasn’t going to comfort me, then why was he there?
I stepped farther into the room, a bed with a couple armchairs against the wall. My arms crossed over my chest because my own touch seemed to be the only comfort I would receive. “Did I do something, Theo?”
His eyes had been on the dresser when I asked the question, and they remained there.
“Because the other day, you showed up at the gallery when you saw me through the window. And now it’s like you don’t want to be here. You said if you wanted me gone, you would tell me, so tell me.”
He slowly turned to look at me. “I told you it’s been a rough week—”
“You’re lying.” I hadn’t known him long, but I knew him well. “This isn’t the man I know. I didn’t expect us to fuck, but your hands would either be in my hair or on my ass by now.”
His hard eyes remained on mine, giving nothing away.
“Did you only want me because I was married?” Now, the parameters of the relationship had changed. Now, there was nothing that separated us, and perhaps that made him uncomfortable.
“No.”
“Then—then I don’t understand.”
“Astrid.” It was one of the rare times he said my name, and he said it with a tone of anger I hadn’t heard before. “I have some heavy shit on my plate right now. If you hadn’t said you weren’t okay, I probably wouldn’t have come. But I care for you, so I came. I’m sorry that I’m not much comfort right now, but all the simplicity in my life just went out the window, and I don’t know what the fuck to do about it.”
Now, I felt guilty for only caring about myself. “You can talk to me about it.”
“I can’t.”
“I know I’m not a part of your world, but—”
“I said I can’t.”
The anger in his tone made me back away. “Then maybe you should just go.” My heart had already gone through one boxing match, and now it was going through another. It was battered and blue, in pieces on the floor.
He gave a quiet sigh, his eyes returning to the dresser as he dragged his hand down across the bones of his jawline. “Yeah…maybe I should.”