I hurry back to the bathroom, grab the t-shirt and shorts I’ve been living in for the past two days and drop them in the hamper. I do a quick inspection, to make sure I haven’t left anything behind. I bolt to the bedroom, unplug my phone, leaving the office phone that’s sitting next to it on top of the drawer.
I check the screen.
A golf ball-sized knot forms in my throat.
Kaz has already texted me.
The man is too perfect.
Cursing under my breath at the irony that is my life, I stick my phone in the back pocket of my jeans. As my eyes scan the room, they land on the open wardrobe, containing all the beautiful fashion Kaz bought me. My gaze drops to the blue shoes I’ll have to leave behind, once more.
Flashes of the last three weeks hit me like a film reel.
My lower lip trembles and tears well in my eyes.
I don’t want to leave this house.
I don’t want to leave the wonderful, caring man I’ve fallen for. My fearless nightmare slayer.
I don’t want to leave the safety of this sanctuary.
I don’t want to leave this idyllic life that could’ve been.
But you have to.
I straighten my spine.
Staying isn’t an option.
I may not have much to offer a man like Kaz, but I can make sure my presence in his life doesn’t sabotage his business deal and reputation. If not being with him is the price I have to pay to protect him, then that’s what I’ll do. Because when you love someone, you’ll do anything.
A rebel tear slides down my cheek. I wipe it away, as I breathe through the wave of nausea rippling through me.
Guilt at what I’m about to do niggles at me, but I stomp it down.
“Time to go.”
Willing my heart not to crack open, I run out of the bedroom.
Chapter 53
You can’t answer my question with a question
Harley
The A-Plus Lodge Motel in New Jersey fails to make the grade. It may be a step above the cheapest motel in the area, but there’s no denying it’s a dump. And it’s my new residence until I figure out my next steps.
I wipe my face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt.
I have to stop crying.
My tears were freefalling during the shared ride from New York which was extended by an agonizing hour and a half due to an accident on the road, causing the driver to cast worried glances my way every couple of miles. I was a mess while I filled out the details to secure my last-minute reservation at this fine establishment. My spirits were in the toilet as I trailed to my shoebox-size room like a wooden doll, guilt and embarrassment tying a chain around my legs, weighing them down with each step I took. And for the past two hours, I’ve been bawling my eyes out as I stare at the TV without knowing what movie is playing.
My soul aches at the mere thought of my fake boyfriend and I sink deeper into my despair as the reality of my tragic situation slaps me across the face. Again.
An anguished cry tears through my chest and I bring my hand to my mouth to muffle it. For the next long heartbeat, I give in to my sorrow. After crying to the point of not having anything left, I sniffle and inhale a shaky breath.
I bring my hands to my temples. “Good God, it’s like someone is jack hammering my head.”
