Page 58 of A Billion Dollar Romance

My head snapped up. “Your room?”

“Yes.” Her chin was lifted, almost in a challenge. “I’m next door. 57. Bridget booked two, remember? ”

I did, vaguely, so I nodded.

“Good. Well, then…”

She collected her toiletries, and then she was gone, pushing past me in her green silk dress and her tote bag, the scent of orange blossoms swirling away as the door clicked shut, leaving me alone.

I rubbed my chest. It felt hollow, like someone had scooped out some of my vital organs. Too much coffee. Too much meaningless business jargon, and insensible small talk.

But Edie… Edie had been working, for us and for her, had been doing everything I asked of her, without complaint. Withenthusiasm, even–she was passionate about her writing, about her potential, her future.

And if she wanted to be alone with her manuscript tonight… that was her choice.

Shewasn’t mine.

Much as I wanted her to be.

* * *

Bzzt. Bzzt.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been sleeping–had I been sleeping? Or just tossing back and forth?–when the vibration of my phone on the bedside table stirred me.

I fumbled to unlock the screen. Was Edie okay? She had the key to the room if she needed it– If she needed me–

Rm 86. xx K

I stared at the letters, first in confusion, and then in disgust.

Last year at this time, I’d been slinking back to my own room from hers. I’d left without saying goodbye or thank you.

I stared at the phone, the bright light searing the backs of my eyeballs.

No wonder Bridget and Lyle–fuckingLyle–wanted me to clean up my image.No fucking wonderRyan looked at me with those sad puppy dog eyes of his, asking me if I was happy.The asshole was a divorced single dad, and he had the balls to askmeifIwas happy?had been my response at the time, and I grimaced, alone in the dark.

Even Alice. It killed me to see her look at Edie in that sweet, grandmotherly way, and know I was lying to her face, every goddamned day.

I deleted the message without a response, dropped my phone back onto the nightstand, and rolled onto my back, uncomfortably awake. The pillow beside me was empty, the sheets cool and unslept-in on Edie’s side of the bed.

I couldn’t ask her to come to me.

Could I go to her? Just to sleep? I’d slept better, for the past couple of months, even if you included the occasional sleepless nights spent urging her towards one orgasm after another. Just having her next to me…

My heart constricted painfully.

I wanted her.

I missed her.

I…

I sat up, scrubbing my hands through my hair, wishing she was beside me to tease her fingers through it herself. She tugged on it sometimes, in the throes of her passion, but tonight, I only wanted her to smooth it back the way she did at other times, that softness on her face.

I had to tell her.

Not those words–not yet, not when I wasn’t sure of her–but…