Chapter 31
Garrett
She left.
She really left.
Lola’s been gone twelve hours and I still can’t believe it. How could she tell me she loves me and then just walk away like that? How could she give up on us without so much as a whimper? I trusted her with everything I am; why couldn’t she trust me about this one thing? Why couldn’t she believe me when I told her that she’s more important than the throne?
Why couldn’t she want me as much as I want her?
It’s the last question that haunts me, that keeps me pacing the suite long after the sun has gone down and Lola has boarded a plane bound for America.
I can’t believe she left me. Can’t believe she made me fall in love with her sassy mouth and her crazy attitude and the softness hiding underneath both, only to walk away when I finally told her how I feel. Because she’s so afraid of what-ifs that she refuses to see what’s right in front of her.
It’s infuriating. Rage inducing. And so painful that every breath I take is a razor blade slicing me to ribbons.
I don’t believe this. I don’t fucking believe this.
I survived being kidnapped.
Survived being tortured.
Survived six surgeries and the incredibly painful physical therapy it took to put me back together.
Survived losing the throne.
I survived it all, only to have this bring me to my knees. This is what’s going to finish the job my captors started all those months ago and my father has continued since I was rescued. Losing Lola is what’s going to shatter me into so many pieces even I won’t be able to recognize what’s left of myself.
How could she not trust me to stand by her? How could she not love me enough to stay? I was all in, would have done anything for her, would have given up anything and everything for her. I never would have been able to walk away, yet she did. She just spouted some lame-ass apology and waltzed right out of here like it hadn’t been only a few hours since she’d told me that she loved me too.
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
I can’t believe this is happening, can’t believe she’s actually gone and that there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
A knock sounds on the door and I’m torn between snarling at Kian—I’m sure it’s him because no one else is stupid enough to show up here right now—and begging him to come in to save me from myself. There’s only so much wallowing a sane man can do after all, and after twelve hours of this bullshit, I’m pretty sure I’ve reached my limit.
The fact that part of me isn’t so sure is just another reason to let Kian in. Maybe he brought more booze. God knows, I’ve already drunk everything in the place.
Stalking across the suite, I start talking before I’ve even got the door halfway open. “You better have whiskey on you.”
He holds up two bottles of Macallan, one in each hand. “You don’t actually think I’d be stupid enough to come here without it, do you?”
“You can come in, then.” I grab one of the bottles and head directly for the bar. Then again, who needs a glass? I twist the top off the bottle and take a long swig. It burns all the way down, but that’s the point. If I focus on it hard enough, maybe I’ll forget how much I hurt.
“Whoa there,” Kian says as he sprawls on the chair opposite me. “Ever heard of pacing yourself?”
“Ever heard of minding your own fucking business?” I take another sip.
“So, we’re done with denial and have gone straight into anger, huh?”
I’m too busy guzzling whiskey to answer.
“Okay, then.” Kian rips the bottle away from me. “Let’s give that a little time to settle, shall we? Not really sure headlines about Wildemar’s Crown Prince getting alcohol poisoning are really the way we want to go here.”
“Don’t you mean ex–Crown Prince?” I make a half-hearted grab for the bottle, but he’s probably right. I’ve drunk enough in the last three hours to fell a rhinoceros. It hasn’t blacked out the pain yet, but I’m beginning to think nothing will be able to do that.