Page 112 of How to Belong with a Billionaire

Oh God. Time to be brave. I fucking hated being brave. “That’s where the apology comes in.”

He tilted his head curiously. “How so?”

“Because”—urgggh—“because when you broke up with me, I didn’t take it very well.”

“I treated you badly. I don’t think there could be any expectation of you responding positively to that.”

“You didn’t treat me badly. We just had, I guess, noncompatible ideas about whether we should be together.”

He gave a strange, soft laugh. “That sounds almost like something I would say.”

“I learned a lot from you.”

“Don’t. I can’t imagine I could have taught you anything good.”

“You taught meonlygood things, Caspian. And the way I felt about you, I’ve never felt about anyone. So when it didn’t work out between us, I didn’t know what to do.”

“I”—he glanced away, biting his lip—“I cannot say I have been wholly satisfied with my own behaviour. But I cannot wholly regret it either.”

I put my fingers lightly to the edge of his jaw and turned his face back to mine. “I don’t regret a single moment I’ve spent with you. But I do regret that I haven’t respected your choices.”

“I know you don’t understand them.”

“I don’t. And I one hundred gazillion percent don’t agree with them. But…” It seemed like a good moment to breathe, so I did, wishing it sounded less desperate and gulpy. “That doesn’t mean you don’t get to make them. And that’s why I’m sorry, Caspian. For getting in the way of what you believe will make you happy.”

His hand came up, as if he was going to touch me, but dropped again almost immediately—though not before I’d seen how it trembled.

“I want you to be happy,” I told him. “You deserve to be happy. And so I hope you can understand why…why I can’t see you again.”

The colour fled his face. “I’m not sure I do understand.”

“I love you. I can’t pretend not to. But Icanmove on from it—only not when we keep falling back into each other’s lives. You’re with Nathaniel now. I need to accept that. And so do you.”

“Must it be,” he asked, in a voice barely above a whisper, “an either/or?”

“For now? For me? Yes.”

“I…I…don’t want it to be.”

“I can’t, Caspian.”

“Please…” He drew in a deep, shuddering breath and then we were utterly entangled, my arms around him, his around me, our bodies finding their fit as naturally as one breath following the next, his face pressed against the curve of my neck. “Please don’t leave me. I can’t bear the thought of being without you.”

Oh no. My heart. My already-broken heart. “But what happens if I stay? What are we? What about Nathaniel?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know.” He drew me in more tightly still, the clutch of his fingers hard enough to leave bruises. “I’m sorry, I don’t know.”

I did my best to soothe him, light touches and long strokes, the soft pressure of my palms against his back, as though I held a wild animal. “I know you don’t. And that’s the problem.”

“I…I’m lost, Arden. I’m so lost.” He shuddered against me, helpless despite his physical strength. “I haven’t felt this way since my father died.”

“It’s not too late. You can still choose me.”

He lifted his head and stared at me, his eyes a wasteland of sorrow. “I wish I could.”

It took everything I had not to argue. Not to insist (beg) that he could, as I had so many (too many) times before. “I understand. But I have to go.”

No answer. Just a convulsive movement, too ambiguous to be either resistance or acquiescence.