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I blink back, the tears threatening to spill. “I thought we were finally moving forward. That maybe we could…” I pause. “Doesn’t matter now.”
“Of course, it matters.” Mary’s voice is gentle but firm. “You love him, don’t you?”
I meet her gaze, my heart laid bare. “I never stopped.”
The crowd starts to trickle towards the auction room.
“We should probably head in, too,” I say.
Mary hesitates her hand on my arm. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, promise.” My gaze is still trained on Sebastian, who guides an older woman to her seat. “You go ahead. I’ll be there in a sec. Save me a seat?”
“Alright. Don’t be too long, okay?” Mary disappears into the auction room.
A familiar pull, like a string tethering me, makes me look up. Sebastian’s eyes find mine, a silent question in their depths. He tilts his head towards the balcony, in invitation.
Is he… Does he really mean me? I glance around, then back at him.
He gathers his phone, typing. Seconds later, my phone vibrates in my clutch.
Sebastian: Meet me outside.
My thumb hovers over the screen. Is this about the plan? Does he need my help? Or is it something else entirely?
Screw you Sebastian Barron. I need to know.
I weave through the dwindling crowd, my breaths shallow, and I step out onto the balcony. Sebastian stands at the railing, his back to me. He doesn’t turn, but I know he senses my presence.
“Quite the party,” I say.
He hums in agreement, his gaze fixed on the night sky. “Reminds me of that night at the pool. The stars were like this. Remember?”
“Yes.” How could I forget? I move to stand beside him, my eyes drawn to the stars above. The cool water, the heat of his body against mine, the almost-kiss that left me breathless. “Did something happen with Oliver?”
“No, it’s not about them.” He’s quiet, his gaze still fixed on the heavens. “It’s about us.”
“Us?”
He finally looks at me, his eyes dark and intense. “I can’t stop thinking about that weekend. About how right it felt to be with you again.”
“Sebastian.”
“I miss you.” His words are raw, honest.
“Don’t.” I shut my eyes tightly, sorrow crashing over me. “Please, don’t do this.”
“Do what? Tell the truth? Apologize? Take responsibility for my actions?”
“Please. Stop. I can’t keep doing this. The push and pull, the hot and cold.”
He steps closer, his hand brushing mine on the railing. “But I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about you, and I’m sorry. Please, princess.”
“I know.” I open my eyes, meeting his gaze. “I know you’re sorry. But it’s not enough. Not anymore.”
“Give me a chance to make it right.”
“How many chances do you need? How many times do we have to go through this?”