Page 27

And then thankfully, the elevator door closes, and all I’m left with is the memory of his stupidly handsome, confused face.

I spend most of the day in South Kensington, wandering around the museums, barely taking in all the beautifully curated displays. Later that afternoon, right as I’m grabbing a cup of hot chocolate from a vendor outside the tube station, Jennifer calls to find out how last night went, and despite my determination not to tell her, I find myself spilling my guts.

“I’m so embarrassed,” I tell her. “I can’t believe I thought he was a nice guy. And the whole time he was lying to me about everything.”

“Ugh,” she says. “What an asshole. On the plus side, I’m so glad you yelled at him and put him in his place. Maybe he’ll think twice before he does it again.”

“But I have to show my face back in that hotel,” I say. “Everybody’s going to be talking about me.”

“Meh, they’ll be talking about him and his stupid playing ways,” she counters. “And for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.”

I blink. “You are?”

“Yes. You let it out. You’re always so controlled. Such a people pleaser. You barely made a scene when you found out that Patrick had cheated on you.”

“I think I like it better when I don’t make a scene,” I mutter.

“Well you shouldn’t. How long are you going to make yourself small just to make other people feel better about themselves?” she asks.

It’s weird how her words hit. Because that’s how I felt last night. Small. “Maybe I should see if I can get an earlier flight,” I say. “And come home.”

“And then what?” Jennifer asks.

“I don’t know. I’ll go back to work, I guess. I can spend Christmas looking for a new job.”

She lets out a harrumph. “Let me think. Christmas alone in your tiny apartment, or spending it in the city you’ve always wanted to visit. Hmm, that’s a hard one.”

“I could come visit you,” I threaten. But she’s right. Yes, I’m feeling a bit exposed. I don’t do public blow outs ever. But maybe I should. Maybe we all should.

Because trying to make myself small hasn’t exactly made my life a picnic.

“I wouldn’t even open the door to you if you came,” she tells me, even though we both know she would. And if she didn’t, Derrick would push her aside and wrench the handle open and drag me inside.

At least I don’t feel like as much of an idiot anymore. It wasn’t my fault he turned out to be such a bastard. In a couple of weeks, I won’t even remember him.

I’ll make sure of that.

There’s a pause. Then Jennifer lets out a huff. “Oh!” she says. “Do you think he paid for your room?”

My breath catches in my throat. I’d forgotten about that in all the mess of this morning. “Oh God, maybe.”

“It had to be him, right? Now make sure you rack up the biggest room service bill that place has ever seen.”

For the first time since last night I laugh. “Maybe I should.”

“You definitely should. Champagne, chocolate strawberries. Put them all on his tab.”

I take another sip of my hot chocolate, the sweetness coating my tongue. I probably won’t rack up an enormous bill, but I’ll at least enjoy the facilities. Take a long bath in the lovely relaxing tub. Order dinner. Wear the cozy expensive robe.

What I’m not going to do is run away because yet another man has disappointed me. I’ve done that enough.

And as Jennifer starts reeling off everything she’d order if she was in my place, I feel the peace come back over me. I’m in the most beautiful city in the world, staying at a hotel I’ll never be able to afford to stay in again. Not that I’d want to. But one thing I know is this. I’m stronger than I ever thought I was.

And I’m not going to let anybody hurt me again.

THEO

Beckett and Caleb howl with laughter as I tell them about my encounter with Georgia in the lobby this morning.