“Why not?”I asked, knowing he was right, but after having his hands all over me, I didn’t want to listen to reason.
The elevator door dinged, but we just stood there.I stepped backward into the gap, keeping the doors from closing.He moved toward me, his hand slid to my hip again, fingers pressing into the curve.His eyes darkened.“Because if we do this,” he said, his voice rough with desire.“If we let this continue, it won’t just be sex.Not for me.I want you back.I’m determined.”His jaw ticked, and he swallowed.“But I don’t know if I can survive you walking away again.”
My breath hitched.
His forehead dropped to mine.“I’m going to get some air.”He leaned in, brushing my lips with his.“Night, Rosebud.”
My body froze at the gentle contact, at the amount of affection in the tiniest of kisses.“Night.”
He stepped back, and on autopilot, I moved out of the way of the elevator doors.Our eyes held until the doors closed, and I was alone.
I practically stumbled down the hall and slipped into our room, and the rose petals still lay in our initials on the bed.
Tears burned my eyes; emotions I’d been hiding from rose to the surface, and I collapsed on the bed.My legs pulled into my chest, my arms wrapped around my knees, and I cried.
I stumbled toward the hotel room door.After I went for air, Chris spotted me and ordered a round of shots.I’d already drowned my feelings in booze once before and wasn’t in the mood to revisit that state of awfulness, but Chris insisted, and luckily, I wasn’t on an empty stomach.Happy Wyatt wouldn’t refuse.He’d happily join in and keep the party going.The only problem was I wasn’t Happy Wyatt.
I was sad.Depressed.Wishing I were in a hotel bed with Rose, surrounded by discarded rose petals while she lay in my arms.
I just had to get through tonight and the next two days, then we could go back to Vine Valley and… and what?I ran a hand over my face.I didn’t want to go back to Vine Valley.I didn’t want to return to a life that Rose wasn’t in.Yes, we would still work together and see each other on the vineyard and in town, but that wasn’t my life.My life was Rose.
My head rested against the door as I fumbled with my keycard, more tired than drunk.I swiped it and pulled on the handle, but the light kept flashing red.“Turn green, you stupid thing,” I mumbled as I swiped again.
The door yanked open, and all of my weight careened forward.I fell into the room like an unwanted bag of potatoes being tossed into a dumpster, hitting the ground with a loud thud and an exaggeratedumph.
“Oh my God.”Rose dropped to her knees, her hands resting on my body as I attempted to push myself up.“Are you okay?”
“Never better,” I rolled to my back.The feel of the carpet dragging across my face lingered on my forehead.
Her lips pressed into a thin line before little wrinkles appeared on the bridge of her nose.A laugh burst free, and she slapped a hand over her mouth.“Sorry,” she said.“Do you hurt?”
Only everywhere.“No.”
“Let’s get you up.”Her hands landed on either side of me, and she helped me to my feet.“There you go.”She wiped my shirt as if it needed fixing.“Good as new.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Let me run you a bath,” she said.“They have lavender bath bombs in there.Must have been part of the romance package.It’ll help calm you down so you can sleep.”
She went to walk away, but I grabbed her hand, halting her in place.She was one of the few people who knew how much it cost me to be the life of the party.How being everyone’s fountain of energy physically and mentally drained me until all I could do was soak in a bath of Epsom salt and hope to quiet my brain enough to go to bed.
“What?”she asked when I just stood there staring at her like a dehydrated elephant.
“I don’t want a bath.”
Her brows knit together.“You don’t?”
I shook my head, refusing to let go of her hand as if I did, she might disappear.“I don’t want lavender.Or sleep.Or to calm down.”My throat tightened, the alcohol loosening truths I’d spent weeks locked deep in the back of my mind.“I just… I don’t want to be alone.”
Something softened in her expression.The teasing edges melted away, replaced by that grounding calm she always carried without trying.She squeezed my fingers again.
“You’re not.”
I laughed without humor, unable to regulate my emotions.“Rose, I’m really not okay.”
“I know.”She stepped closer, close enough that I could smell her shampoo, see the faint lines of tear tracks on her cheeks.She’d been crying.While I was getting drunk with my friends, she’d been in here crying.Alone.“You don’t have to be okay with me.”
The room closed in on us, becoming smaller, quieter, like the rest of the world had dimmed its lights for the night to give us space.I leaned my forehead against hers, breathing her in, anchoring myself to the only thing that had ever been solid in my life.
