“Jordan—” I start, but he just shakes his head.
“Don’t,” he says.
I steady my voice. I can feel my heartbeat in my ears. “Jordan, you have no idea what that means to me.”
“But you don’t feel the same way.”
I gawk at him. “Are you serious?”
He’s put his shirt back on, and I feel something tighten in my stomach, thinking of how close we were just minutes ago.
“Jordan, the problem isn’t not loving you. The problem is what to do with the very real fact that I do.”
We’re silent for a moment, and I feel the distance extend out between us like the horizon. Because that isn’t all I have to say. “From the moment we met I feel like we’ve just been torturing each other. And I don’t want that for either one of us anymore. Do you see what this has created? You and Rainer—”
“You have to get over that,” Jordan says. He sounds almost angry. His jaw is locked. “It’s not your problem what my relationship is like with Rainer.”
“Yes,” I say. “It is. I care about you, and I know you care about each other.”
“Paige,” Jordan says, his tone softening slightly. “Let me and Rainer worry about me and Rainer.”
“And what about me?” I say. “I’m sorry to sound selfish, Jordan, but the fact that I’m hurting both of you is not making me feel great. I feel terrible, all the time.”
“These last few weeks have been rough,” Jordan says. “Those tabloids are the devil. I told you they’ll make anything up.”
“But they didn’t make this up!” I’m practically yelling now, and Jordan stops and looks at me, surprised. “Sure, those pictures weren’t what they looked like, but Jordan, itwasromantic. Itwasn’tokay. They were right.”
Jordan shakes his head. “Do you know what you’re saying?”
“I’m not saying it’s okay that we’re followed. But I’m trying to acknowledge the fact that weare. We don’t live in a world where we can just feel what we want to feel and act how we want to act and not have there be consequences.”
“I’ll take the consequences,” Jordan says.
“I won’t.”
I take a step toward him, and his face comes out of the shadows. I see how tired he is. There are dark circles under his bloodshot eyes.
“No one is winning,” I say, softly.
Jordan stands perfectly still. “So that’s it?”
I stuff my hands down into the terry cloth pockets. “Yeah,” I say. “That’s it.”
Jordan looks at me in disbelief. But then his face changes. I see the Jordan I met on Maui—the one who was hard and closed. It breaks my heart straight in half. “If that’s what you want,” he says.
I want to tell him it’s not what I want. How could it possibly be what I want? What I want is to cross the room and let him take me back into his arms. What I want is to have met him first. What I want is for Rainer and Jordan not to be so important to me—to each other. But none of those things is a reality.
“I’m going to go home,” Jordan says. “I can’t stay here.”
“We have two days left. What am I going to tell people?”
Jordan runs a hand over his forehead. “Make something up,” he says. “You seem to be pretty good at excuses lately.” His words are cold, and I pull my robe tighter around me, feeling the chill.
He starts toward me. It’s taking all the self-control I can muster to stay stuck to the spot. If I feel him, again, I know I won’t be able to say no.
But he doesn’t stop. He walks right past me and out the door.
I hear it click behind him. Silence. I look at the ten suitcases in the closet. The crumpled bed. And then I let myself slide down to the floor. I put my head on my knees, and for not the first time in recent memory, I cry.
