Right back to the beginning.
“G’night, Mills,” I whisper.
I feel her looking at me. Her chin still dug into my pec. Her big hazel eyes roving over my face and I can’t look at her. I can’t because if I do, I know that what I’ll see looking back at me will kill me.
Again, for a very long time, she doesn’t say a word until, finally, she turns her head to press her cheek against my chest with a sigh.
“Good night, Dean.”
After that, neither of us says a word. We just lie here quietly until we both fall asleep.
FIFTY-SEVEN
Iknow Dean is gone before I even open my eyes.Still, I lay here and listen for him anyway. The shower running. Maybe the TV in the living room. Something to tell me that he didn’t leave me again.
Nothing.
I don’t hear a thing.
Opening my eyes, all I see is the empty bed next to me.
Sitting up, I look around the room. His clothes are gone. Mine are picked up—my dress hanging carefully over the back of the chair. My shoes perched on top of it. Next to them is a shopping bag from one of the boutiques downstairs. Reaching for it, I look inside to find a pretty summerdress—something I’d see in a store window and love butwould never have thenerve to buy, let alone actually wear. Along with the dress, I find undergarments and a pair of strappy sandals to round out my new outfit. Dumping it all out onto the bed in front of me, I find a brand new cell phone, identical to mine and still in the box. Attached to it is a note card.
Mills~
This isn’t me leaving. I meant what I said last night. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. Whatever you want, whatever it looks like—I’m here. I love you. I know that you know that. I know that you know I’m telling you the truth when I say it—just like I know that you’ll never admit it. Not even to yourself… but the truth—the real, ugly, fucked-up truth—is that I don’t care. I’ll spend the rest of my life fighting for you, even if the person I have to fight is you.
Dean
Refolding the note, I set it carefully on top of the pile of clothes he left for me because he knew I’d be embarrassed about walking out of here in the same clothes I wore last night. That if someone saw me, recognized me, it would set off another whirlwind of rumors and speculation and even if he doesn’t care about that, I do.
Letting out a long, shaky sigh, I start to move toward the side of the bed so I can get up, get dressed and get back to New York. Reaching for my phone to call the pilot we keep on standby, I end up picking something else up instead. The watch I gave Dean. The one I bought for Allister. It was meant to be a wedding gift, given to my husband on our honeymoon. Instead, I gave it to Dean on impulse. A hasty gift shoved in hisdirection in the hopes that maybe I was buying something with it in return.
Peace.
That’s what I told him it was.
A peace offering.
That’s what I toldmyselfthat’s what it was but it wasn’t.
Not really.
I think I was just trying to get him to like me.
Buy his approval.
Turning it over in my hand, I can see the date I’d had engraved on the back plate.
6/11/22
He never had it replaced.
Smoothing my thumb over the back of it, I feel myself startle when there’s a loud knock on the front door of the suite, the hard rap of it echoing through the silent space.
Turning the watch over, I see the time.
It’s after noon.
