He looks startled.
“I tried to tell you,” I say, “and the heart monitor went crazy… And then your family showed up and?—”
“And I was already telling them.” He winces.
“I’m so sorry,” I repeat.
“And then I told the paparazzi and my team and?—”
“I’m sorry,” I repeat.
“We slept in the same bed,” he says. “God. No wonder you wanted to sleep on the couch. And we kissed!” His face twists.
My fingers itch. I want to smooth every line on his face, I want to replace fear and horror with calm.
But Florian is not a body that I can massage until his pain eases away. There is no one or two-hour regimen that will fix the damage I caused. I can apologize, but that won’t change the situation that he’s in.
“Everyone has heard those stories of people who wake up and think they’re someone else,” I say.
“Like a crazy person.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Like someone who thinks he’s Ludwig II.”
I blink, and his smile softens. “You don’t know who that is.”
I shake my head, then Florian stiffens. “People called him crazy. He built nice castles.”
“You had a bad knock to your head,” I say. “Do you want me to explain to everyone?”
“It is my mistake. You have been exceedingly helpful.”
“Overly helpful.”
He gives a small smile. “Perhaps.”
“I got you to smile.”
He smiles back at me. “A tiny smile.”
“Yes.”
He shakes his head, and his eyes turn sad. “I was so happy.”
“I know,” I say.
“And now everyone will know I don’t have you as my boyfriend.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Florian
I leave the massage room. I can’t bear to sit opposite Mateo and have him apologize again.
I want to return to my apartment and lie under the duvet and see whether when I wake up all of this will have been a bad dream, and Mateo will be next to me telling me he loves me.
