I can’t be a party to that. I love him too much to stand by and watch him bring about his own destruction.
I can’t let that happen.
I won’t let that happen.
So what do I do?
Do I tell him how I feel and hope he understands, even knowing that he won’t?
Do I break up with him without telling him the real reason I’m doing it?
Or do I just walk away now, while he’s asleep—when he can’t argue with me, can’t talk or sex me out of it?
Just the idea makes me hurt.
God, this sucks. This is why I don’t fall in love, why I work so hard to keep people at a distance. Because it fucking hurts when you let them close and shit falls apart. I wish it were more poetic, but it’s not. It just is what it is.
Garrett calls out in his sleep again, only this time he reaches for me. I stay where I am, let him find me. Let him take comfort from the warmth of my skin and the proximity of my body to his. I draw comfort from him the same way, loving the smoothness of his palm as it skims over my hip and the chill of his fingers as they brush against my skin.
I savor it as long as I can, hanging on to the feel of him—and the smell and sound and sight of him—for as long as I can allow myself.
And then I get up and start to pack.
It takes longer than it should, because I keep having to stop and wipe my stupid, watery eyes. Ridiculous allergies, always acting up at the worst possible time.
When I’m done packing, I pull up my favorite travel website to book a flight home. It’s the height of the tourist season, though, and the first available seat I can find—if I don’t want to fly standby—leaves in two days.
I book it, then try to figure out what I want to do. Do I want to stay here with Garrett for the next two days? Or do I want a clean break, to walk out the door of the suite and never have to see him again?
God. Just the idea has me shaking, has my breath coming faster and panic rising in my chest. I’ve known him only two weeks—two weeks! How can he have worked himself into my life so completely that the idea of never seeing him again devastates me this much?
It doesn’t make sense. But that doesn’t make it any less true. And staying here, whining about it, will only make it harder when I finally do leave. On both of us.
With that thought in mind, I go down to the lobby and book another room several floors below the Presidential Suite. I think about changing hotels, but with all the clothes I’ve bought over the past week, it seems impractical. I don’t even know how I’m supposed to get them to another hotel, and the last thing I want to do is stick around the suite, packing them up, while Garrett tries to talk me out of leaving.
When I’ve got the key to my new room, I snag a couple of doormen from the lobby and request help moving my things. Garrett’s still sleeping when we get back to the room, thank God, so I close the bedroom door to cut down on the noise and let the doormen do their job.
And then I settle down on the couch and wait for Garrett to wake up.
It doesn’t take long, which I’m grateful for. If I have to sit here too long I’m afraid I’ll start crying again. And this time I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.
A few minutes after I hear him rattling around in the bedroom, he comes into the living room dressed in nothing but a pair of low-slung jeans, ridiculous abs on full display. His hair is a little messed up from his nap, but his gaze is alert—and wary—when it meets mine.
“Where’s your stuff?” he demands as he moves toward the bar.
“I had it moved out. I’m leaving, Garrett.”
He pours himself a whiskey, neat, and downs it in one long swallow. “You want to tell me why?”
“You know why.” I cross to him, try to take his hand, but he freezes me with a look. It suddenly occurs to me that I’m no longer dealing with my lover, Garrett. Instead, His Royal Highness, Prince Garrett, is in full attendance.
“I know that I told you I loved you. I know that you said you loved me back. So, no, Lola, I don’t know why.”
“Because you don’t belong to me. You’ll never belong to me.”
“That’s bullshit—”
“It’s not! You belong to Wildemar, as you should. No matter what your father says, you are the crown prince. And I have absolutely no doubt that you will be king one day. But not if you stay with me.”