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Right. And when you break up with someone, you’re not supposed to feel jealous anymore either.

Except it’s not something I can control.

I saw him the moment I arrived and stepped out of the car, which is why I tried to hurry inside, keeping my gaze fixed ahead.

Good thing I can walk in heels as if I’m barefoot, because the moment I saw him, my knees went so weak that staying upright became a challenge. For one terrifying second, I was painfully aware of every step I took, of the floor beneath my feet, and of how easily my body could betray me.

And the last thing I need is to stand here and watch him receive an award from a woman who seems determined to make physical contact with every inch of him.

Through the applause filling the room, he steps off the stage with the award in his hand, thanking people on both sides as they stop him to congratulate him.

But when he reaches us—or, more specifically, the guys, because I’m standing farther back with Sierra and Thalia practically forming a shield around me—the mask slips from his face, and his expression turns serious.

“Hold this,” he tells Nick, shoving the award into his hands. “I’m out.”

Nobody gets the chance to react. He turns his back on us and disappears into the crowd, sliding between people with infuriating ease.

I lose sight of him almost immediately, and an ache clamps down on my chest.

Why do I feel this desperate need for him to stay near me?

Why am I so disappointed that he left?

Why have I spent the entire night paying attention to whether he was looking at me?

Why did I expect him to come talk to me… to acknowledge me at all?

And why doesn’t that video come to mind when I look at him, the way it does every single night when I close my eyes?

My mind should be reminding me of everything I saw. It should be bringing back every reason I have to stay away from him.

“Are you sure you can come decorate Serena’s room starting tomorrow?” Sierra asks, continuing the conversation I think I interrupted the second I heard Zayn’s name.

“Yes,” I answer, taking her hand. “I have a few free days before I start the renovations on Theo’s hotels, so…”

So I need something to keep me busy.

I’ve been checking in on my teams every day, but they organized themselves so well the entire time I was gone that all I really did was offer help they didn’t even need. Eventually, I decided to let them continue doing things the way they’d already started, and I turned my attention to the plans for the hotels Theo wants renovated.

He bought them recently, and I'm going to transform them completely.

Just like Zayn, he’ll provide workers from his own construction sites, so I won’t have to hire additional crews.

But we’re talking about massive hotels, which means these projects will keep me occupied for a very long time.

In London. But occupied. And far away from Zayn.

I’m leaving a smaller team to handle the contracts we’ve already signed, and the rest of us will dive into this madness in about a week, once they finish the work they’re currently doing.

“Perfect.” Thalia claps her hands together excitedly. “That means we’ll have dinner together every night.”

“I…”

No. We can’t have dinner together. I can’t sit at the same table as Zayn and pretend everything is fine. I can’t pretend I don’t feel anything, pretend the ache of missing him isn’t tearing me apart from the inside.

I don’t want to sit through casual conversations, forcing myself to ignore the feelings that surge through me the second he’s near—especially in a quiet, private setting surrounded by the people who know us both so well.

“Something casual, like before,” Sierra quickly explains.