His.
19
DUNCAN
“Mr. Rourke,” Mary says from the dining room doorway. “Miss Montgomery hasn’t spent the night in her room. I thought you might want to know. I believe she may appreciate you checking on her this morning.”
At Mary’s words, the fork drops from my hand, clattering against the table. I’ve been holding it aimlessly for the past half hour, unable to touch my food. I haven’t taken a sip of my coffee either.
My mind’s been too wrapped up in Elowyn.
Since she stormed out of my gallery last night, naked and crying, I’ve been a mess.
The look on her face after I insinuated that she didn’t love me. That she was only here for the money. The anguish in her voice.
It’s branded into my memory. How wrong I’ve been. How I hurt her.
There’s no getting it out.
And it’s not like I stopped there. When she was brutally honest, laid her heart bare, what did I do? Threw accusation after accusation in her face.
What makes it worse is remembering I demanded honesty while holding onto a secret myself.
To top it all off, I gave her the space she asked for. Didn’t chase.
Didn’t prove how much she mattered.
No. I’ve beenrespectful.
Slept in my bed alone. Woke up alone. Showered alone.
Put on my damn jeans and T-shirt, determined to spend the entire day in my studio…
Alone.
When, according to Mary, Elowyn has needed me.
White-hot rage bubbles inside me. Bile rises.
I’m a fucking idiot.
After the first time we slept together, I let Elowyn leave with my insult hanging between us.
She deserves better.
As for me, I deserve worse. For punishing Elowyn. For assuming. For every-fucking-thing.
I’m still taking her.
Like it or not, we’re all we’ve got.
“Where is she?” I get up, forgetting about my breakfast, my coffee, and the promise to give Elowyn space. My chair scrapes back, making Mary jump. “Where is she?”
“If I may, I…” Her voice is motherly, as she’s being protective of Elowyn. My heart would’ve warmed if I weren’t so goddamn worried. “Please be gentle with her.”
“I will.” I’ve never screamed at Mary. Ever. But so help me, if she doesn’t answer, today will be the day I do it. “Where?”
“I checked the cameras when I couldn’t find her this morning.” Wringing her hands, she whispers, “The gallery. She seems to have spent the night there.”
