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The knock on the door came indecently soon. But that was good. Soon was good. She set her laptop aside and opened the door, stepping forward and setting her hands on either side of the doorway, both to brace herself and to block entry. She’d already made the mistake of letting him in once.

Rai was standing there, looking just as he had when they’d first met, except less wet and much less joyful. The buttons of his white shirt were fastened, but one off so the collar was askew. He wore a determined expression, almost grim, but his eyes were wide and desperate.

“Hey,” she said, keeping her voice even.

“I am sorry.” He glanced from side to side, as if he were puzzling out which of her hands would be easiest to kiss.

Another mistake she wasn’t going to make. She gripped the doorframe tighter. “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter.”

He narrowed his eyes at that, focusing them on her face like lasers.

God, how had she ever thought he was unintelligent, even for a second?

She’d ascribed to him the classic pure of heart, strong of arm, dumb of ass himbo definition, but she’d been the dumbass all along while he’d been playing her like a philharmonic orchestra.

“But it does matter,” he said at last. “It was never my desire to hurt you.”

She forced a smile. “It was always going to hurt, Rai. We both lied to ourselves about that.” She let him absorb that for a moment, but when his face started to move from absorbing to arguing , she spoke first. “You have to leave soon, anyway. So it might as well be now.”

His jaw hardened. “Yes,” he said. “I must leave tonight.”

Poppy nodded sharply, keeping the smile on her face. “That’s for the best. Did you want to take the painting now, or—”

He abruptly set his hands to her shoulders. “ Come with me.”

His voice echoed in her ears like thunder, and she lurched back. “Don’t touch me.”

He raised his hands in conciliation, but lightning was in his eyes. “Please,” he murmured. “Please, come with me.”

“I can’t,” she whispered, feeling her smile fall apart, unable to stop it. “Mom needs me. And you need to leave before—”

He cut his hands sharply through the air, dismissive. “I can care for your mother,” he said. “I have money. She will want for nothing. And she will rejoice to know you are happy. Come with me.” He stretched out a hand in supplication.

“I can’t. ” It came out like the cry of a bird, and Poppy tensed her stomach, tightened her grip on the doorframe, steeled her heart. Stared at his extended hand like it was a rattlesnake. Against her will, her eyes traced the pattern of the faint freckles on his wrist. “I can’t.”

“But you can.” Rai’s expression melted from harsh determination to pleading.

“You can. All you have to do is take my hand. We will leave this place together and travel the world. I will provide your mother with ample money. I will care for you, take you anywhere that there is water. I will even take you across the ocean to France. I will make you happy. You can be happy.”

Nausea roiled in Poppy’s stomach. How had she thought this was going to be easy?

She wanted to fling herself into Rai’s embrace, beg him not to go.

She wanted to fly, leave all her worries behind and just feel the wind in her hair and his arms around her, the sun on her face.

She wanted everything he was offering, with a desperation that was like starvation.

But she lifted her head and met his stormy gaze directly.

“You’re right,” she said. “I can go with you. But I won’t. ”

He shuddered as if she had struck him. “Poppy,” he said, his voice shaking. “I love you.”

“Do you?” Sudden rage bubbled up in her, pushing her spine straighter.

It felt like it was coming right out of her in gouts of flame.

“I don’t see how you can. Because if you knew me at all, you’d know I would never, never leave my mother to fend for herself.

Whoever you think you’re in love with, it’s not me. ”

“But I do know this of you.” He set his hands on the outside of the doorframe, just opposite hers, but not touching. His eyes were hurricanes. “It is why I have promised—”

“Money solves a lot,” she cut in, suppressing another flinch at the word promise , which now sounded to her just like lie .

“But it doesn’t solve everything. If I had listened to Brendan and just sent Mom some money two years ago, she’d be on the streets now.

I’m not going to take that chance ever again. ”

Outrage flared across Rai’s face. “I am nothing like that fu…that pollution! ”

Poppy laughed mirthlessly. “No, you’re not. Brendan at least knew when to cut his losses.”

Rai sagged, leaning heavily on his hands, breathing fast. He looked lost, and she couldn’t help herself. She set a hand to his cheek, allowing herself one last caress. His skin felt like paper under her fingers. Dry. Fragile. It only made her resolution stronger.

“I won’t leave,” she said in her kindest voice. “And you can’t stay. This was always going to end. I’d hoped it wouldn’t be…like this. Or this soon. But it’s probably better this way. You need to go, and I need to…” She couldn’t think of a way to end that sentence that wasn’t bleak.

He covered her hand with his, sighing deeply. “But you cannot live like this.” He looked past her shoulder, and his expression hardened. She knew what he saw—her laptop, open to her transcript job site. “This is not living.”

“Maybe not,” she said, tugging her hand free. He didn’t fight her for it. “Maybe it’s not living. Maybe it is just…existing. But I need to survive, and so do you.” She shrugged, trying and failing for another smile. “You’ll just have to live enough for both of us.”

“But I cannot…” He frowned, eyebrows knitting thoughtfully.

“Just go,” Poppy said.

When he kept frowning at her, unmoving, she stepped back and closed the door in his face.

Half of her believed he would knock again, and half of that half hoped he would, that he’d burst in and kidnap her, take the choice out of her hands, but there was no knock, just a faint crunch of gravel and then nothing.

She cautiously edged around the couch until she could see through the window, confirm that he wasn’t going to be lurking there when she next opened the door.

Or maybe confirm that he was going to be there, that she didn’t have to grieve yet, even if he just wanted to take the painting after all. But he was gone.

He was gone.

Ten minutes, she told herself as she ran to her bedroom, flung herself on the freshly made bed, burst into noisy, messy tears. You can have ten minutes.

She gave herself her ten minutes—maybe a few minutes more, but not much—and then she sat up, scrubbed her eyes with the sheet, and went back to the couch, where she’d left her laptop. Her phone sat beside it, a notification on the lock screen.

Glorious Poppy, the preview said. I must explain …

She unlocked her phone and glanced at the wall of text Rai had sent her without reading it.

There were words and emojis, so many of them, kisses and flaming hearts and even a purple devil or two, but…

they really didn’t have anything else to say to each other, did they?

He probably wouldn’t let her give him back the money for the painting, no matter how she insisted.

He clearly didn’t want the painting, either.

And she didn’t have the strength to push back against him anymore. She knew what she had to do.

She typed a brief message, sent it, then navigated to Rai’s entry in her contacts. Rai Storm . The made-up last name that had made her think serial killer. He’d been a lie right from the start.

Her thumb hovered over the menu before jabbing decisively.

Block Contact

Poppy glanced at the time on her phone and sighed. She’d let herself cry too long. The transcript job she’d claimed while waiting for Rai was due in half an hour. But it was short. She could finish on time if she started right now.

She wiped the last traces of tears from her eyes and got to work.