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William

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

"When I stop in front of one that makes my heart race, that's the one I'll take."

They were almost the exact same words she said to me in the shower that weekend: "As long as you make my heart race, I'll stay."

Liar.

I pretend to browse the shelves while forcing myself to focus on the present, but being here feels like a replay of the day I found her buying books. I deliberately brought her to the same bookstore, and even if she might be faking everything else, it doesn’t take me long to realize that Taylor genuinely loves books.

I watch closely as she passes by the classics section but doesn’t stop at the Jane Austen box set.

“I already have that one,” she says.

“I was with you the day you bought it.”

“You were?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me something about the past?”

“What do you want to know?”

“I know I worked for your grandmother. How did you and I meet?”

“You don’t want to hear that.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

I try to resist, but I can’t. I lean down and whisper in her ear, “You were naked in my bathroom.”

“Oh!” She takes a step back. The blush on her face can’t be faked, but her skin is so fair she flushes easily, so I’ll never be sure. “What was I doing in your bathroom?”

“It was in the library, the one I built for my grandmother, but I was the one who used it.”

“Was I embarrassed?”

“If you were, you didn’t show it.”

“Was I forward?”

“No. I chased you.”

The memories I’ve kept locked away start coming back.

No, she was never forward, nor did she make things easy for me. She wanted me just as much as I wanted her, but she never threw herself at me.

Suddenly, she frowns—just like she did that day in the car when she remembered something. Confusion spreads across her face.

“What is it?”

“Your father offered me a job at a friend’s house.”

“What?”

“There was a night when he came to my work. I had just been fired . . .but I don’t remember why,” she says, frustrated. “It’s like watching a movie with a damaged reel—so many scenes are missing.”

“But you’re starting to remember.”

“I think so.”

“What did my father want with you, Taylor?”

A crease forms between her brows. “Like I said, he offered me a job. Something about spending a weekend at a friend’s house.”

“Go on.”

“There’s nothing else to say . . .No, wait. He said he wanted me to be safe, that he could protect me.” Her confusion deepens. “He used to say the same thing on the yacht—that he was my friend, my protector. My . . .”

“Fiancé?” I finish, recalling what my father told me over the phone.

She looks devastated. “So it was true?”

“What? That you were getting married? How the hell would I know?” I turn my back on her, trying to keep my temper in check. As much as I want answers so I can erase her from my mind once and for all, I hate hearing her talk about that bastard.

“William?” She steps in front of me.

“If you’re pregnant with my child, you’ll never see him again, Taylor. We’ll get married.”

“What? Are you insane? You hate me.”

“I don’t love you, but I wouldn’t say I hate you.”

“You despise me.”

I don’t deny it.

“Why are you even here? I don’t like you either. If you think the possibility of me carrying your child will force me to marry you, let me make something clear—not even if I were pregnant with triplets would I tie myself to a man who thinks the worst of me.”

“What do you want me to think? One weekend, you were in my bed. The next, you ran away with him.”

Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “You know what’s worse? I can’t even refute your words because I don’t remember. But there’s one thing I do know about us—because my best friend told me and I trust her—I loved you, William. I was in love with you, and I know I would never have betrayed you like that. Why would I run off with another man when I had you?”

“You didn’t have me. Our relationship was casual.”

She goes pale. Her already large eyes widen against her fair skin. “I fell in love with a man who wasn’t even my boyfriend?”

I don’t answer. For me, that means nothing. But to her, maybe it does.

“I have to go,” she says.

“You haven’t picked your book yet.”

“I’d rather buy online, thanks.”

She turns to leave, but unlike last time, I follow.

“Don’t follow me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I just want to know where you’re going. You could be?—”

“— pregnant with your child. Yes, I know. Don’t worry—I have no family left in this world. I didn’t plan this baby, but if I am pregnant, I will love and protect my child above all else.”

She starts walking away again, and I grab her arm. “Where are you going, Taylor?”

“Let’s rule out some options to put your mind at ease: I’m not about to dance naked on a club table or throw myself into another millionaire’s bed. I’m going to eat a damn cupcake.”

“Like you did on your twenty-third birthday.”

She was trying to pull away, but she freezes. “I celebrated with a cupcake? Alone?”

I stare at her, unsettled—because until now, I hadn’t even thought about that. “Well . . .I guess so.”

She lowers her head. “In that case, I’m two years behind. I didn’t celebrate my twenty-fourth or twenty-fifth.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t know when I was born. I didn’t have any documents with me.”

I watch her, waiting for her to say she’s joking, but her expression is serious. “What do you mean you didn’t have any documents?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m starving.”

“Have dinner with me.”

“We’ll end up fighting, and I’ll lose my appetite.”

“No. We’ll just eat.”

“You want to have dinner with me?”

“Why not?”

“You hate me.”

I press two fingers against her lips. “Sometimes. But not today. Come with me, Taylor.”

She closes her eyes, and I know she’s battling with herself—just like I am. But I also know exactly how this will end.

“Okay,” she concedes.