***
I followed the smell of bacon into the kitchen. Bastian was busy mixing something in a bowl while bacon hissed and sputtered on the stove behind him. He had showered and shaved, but was wearing just a t-shirt and shorts. He smiled as he saw me come in.
“Ready for breakfast?” He held up the bowl. “I'm making waffles.”
I went to the coffee pot, pouring another cup. This was the last day of this tranquil domestic scene. The last day I would have this coffee mug and the last time Bastian would make me waffles. I didn't want this dream to end.
“I can't wait,” I told him, smiling and sipping at my coffee. He grinned and poured the first waffle into the waffle iron.
“You want to make the eggs?” he asked. “Yours are better than mine.”
I smiled at the compliment and went to the fridge to pull out the eggs. I was going to miss this.
“You're awfully quiet,” Bastian noted, checking his waffle before flipping the iron. “You okay?”
I pushed the butter around the skillet, watching it melt and change into something else.
“I leave in a few hours,” I said finally, my heart aching at just saying the words. I didn't want to leave, but I had to get back to my life. I had to get back to Dad. He was getting a pacemaker and I needed to be there for him. I had responsibilities and I couldn't stay in the Caribbean playing happy honeymoon forever.
“I know.” Bastian's voice held as much sadness as mine did.
“What happens next?” I asked. I cracked an egg, watching it sizzle in the butter before I mushed the yolk into a yellow mess. I turned around slowly to watch him.
“What do you mean?” Bastian removed his first waffle and put it on a plate. It was a perfect golden brown. He added more batter to the iron.
“What happens with us, Bastian?”
It was one of the few things we hadn't discussed this past week. We both had silently agreed to avoid it, finding other topics far more interesting. Our time together had been better than either one of us could remember, but we both knew that talking about it meant that it would come to an end. Except, even without discussing it, it was still ending.
“I don't know.” He ran a hand through his hair, spiking the still damp golden-brown tresses up. “I don't want to lose you, though.”
I turned around, focusing on stirring the eggs. I knew what had to be done. What had to be done to keep us both from making promises we couldn't keep.
“I think we should just end it.”
“What?” Bastian's voice cracked slightly.
I turned the heat down on the eggs and turned around, biting my lip. This needed to be done. I was giving him his life back because I wouldn't fit in it. I never would have fit.
“I have to go back home,” I said slowly. “You have to go back to New York. I can't work in NY. You can't work in my tiny town.”
“We could find a way,” he insisted. He set down the bowl of waffle batter.
I shook my head. “Bastian, you're a billionaire. I'm not. You drive luxury cars and I drive my cousin's hand-me-down car. You deserve someone better than me.”
There. I said it. The truth was out now.
“No, I don't,” he growled.
“Yes, you do,” I insisted. I motioned to my sunburned nose and cheap clothes. “Look at me. I can't go to your fancy galas and dinner parties. I don't fit in that world.”
Bastian's gray eyes narrowed. “You could.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “When I leave tonight. I leave.”
“Ava...”
“It's been a wonderful trip, but that's all it was.” I swallowed down the ache in my heart. I wanted to throw up, but this was how it had to be. He deserved someone worthy of him and his world and that person wasn't me. He would drop me just like Chad did, only harder. It was only a matter of time before he saw that I wasn't worthy of him. I couldn't take that pain. The knowledge that I didn't deserve him and he just hadn't realized it yet pounded in my head like cruel drum beats. I had to make them stop. “Let's not make this into something more than the two of us having a good time.”