Page 414 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Gio

"What did he reply?" Mira cries.

I’m seated with my back straight on her couch.

My hands are folded in my lap, and I’m trying to compose my features into a placid expression but failing, especially when my fingers brush the ring he gave me.

Grams’ ring. Why would he give me a ring that's a family memento, if he didn’t feel something for me?

It’s a question that bothers me every time I look at it.

It’s a question I haven’t dared ask him; I’m not ready for the answer.

"He didn’t. He walked out of there."

I was too shocked to move. If Edward hadn’t found me, I might still be frozen with my back against that glass wall. I should be grateful Rick made sure to clean me up and straighten my clothes before he left me.

Edward guided me to his car and dropped me at Mira’s place. He also revealed Rick had sent him to check on me. Which confused me. If he hates me, why be so chivalrous toward me? If he's out to get revenge, why be so concerned about me?

"And he thinks you’re responsible for his sister’s suicide?"

I hunch my shoulders, then force myself to square them.

I will not give in to this helplessness that gnaws at my insides.

I will not allow this feeling of powerlessness to overwhelm me.

I’ve survived so long on my own. Even when I found my ex cheating on me, I didn’t fallen apart entirely.

Sure, I packed up my things and moved on, but that didn’t hurt me as much as realizing Rick has been pretending this entire time.

So why does it seem like the entire world around me has changed in an instant?

Why does it feel like I’m staring down at myself and watching this scene playing out?

Why does it feel like my skin is going to break any moment and my insides are going to shatter into a million tiny pieces…

All of which are going to call out his name?

A teardrop rolls down my cheek, and I can’t stop myself from sniffling.

"Oh, honey!" Mira rushes over and sinks down into the seat next to me. When she hugs me, I squeeze my fingers together even tighter.

Why is it so difficult for me to accept kindness from my friends?

Why am I unable to express how I feel? Why do I feel so cold inside, like he destroyed my ability to feel?

Why am I so dependent on a man for my happiness?

Why can’t I find a way to self-soothe and get out of this funk I’ve fallen into?

"Don’t be so hard on yourself." Mira strokes my hair. "You demand too much of yourself, Gio. It’s okay to fall apart sometimes."

I swallow. "If I do, I’m not sure I’ll be able to pick myself up and move on."

"That's why you have friends—to help you when that happens. And if you don’t allow yourself to fall apart now, when you finally suffer a breakdown, it’ll be even worse," she warns.

"You’re right, but I’m so used to being in control. So used to trying to manage everything, you know? But every-time my life feels like it’s on track, something happens, and I feel like I’m back at the beginning."

"Which is why I don’t plan at all. I prefer to be spontaneous. Life is what happens when you’re busy making plans, so I prefer to focus on everything else but the plan. That way, I know I’m living life to the fullest."

I scrutinize her features. "It seems to have worked for you so far. You’re one of the most happy-go-lucky people I know."

"It’s all the time I spend with kids. Nothing like wiping runny noses, changing diapers, and constantly serving up juice boxes and snacks. Not to mention, entertaining two-year-olds all day long keeps you present in the moment."

"You love your job," I state.

"Wouldn’t want to do anything else. I know it might seem like the height of being unambitious, but all I’ve wanted is to have kids of my own and take care of them.

It’s probably because I’m the oldest of four.

I grew up taking care of my sisters and found I enjoyed it.

Kids are so innocent, so present, so in the moment, it’s rubbed off on me.

I’d rather enjoy what I have than focus on the future and what I don’t have.

" She chuckles. "I know it’s all a bit woo-woo, but it works for me. "

"I wish I could be a little more relaxed about my future, too." The only time I’ve let myself go is when I’m with him.

It’s because he makes me feel secure—because I thought he had my back, because I trusted him.

Because I thought I’d found the man I’d spend the rest of my life with.

I was so sure he was the one. Sure, even though we started this relationship under fake pretenses, he’d begun to fall for me, too. How could I have been so wrong?

She takes my hands in hers. "I know he’s upset with you, but I think it’s positive he came out and told you the truth."

"I would have preferred it if he'd told me this before I developed feelings for him." I pull my hands from her, then rise to my feet. "Maybe that was the plan all along—to make me fall in love and then tell me the truth so I'd feel every part of his betrayal."

"He told you before he married you, though."

I pause. "That’s true." I begin to pace. "Why would he do that? Why not have gone through with the charade, then once we were married, tell me about it? It would have been so much worse that way."

"Maybe because he’s also in love with you."

"Oh, trust me, he doesn’t love me. You didn’t see the hate and pain in his eyes when he told me about his sister. He holds me responsible for what happened to her. He’s never going to forgive me. He—"

There’s a knock on the door, and we look at each other.

"Maybe that’s him," she murmurs.

My heart drops to my stomach. No, no, no I don’t want to see him, not right now.

Now when I’m this vulnerable, this open, this broken, this everything I’d never want him to witness.

If he looks at me with those piercing blue eyes, I’m going to forget every promise I made to myself, and throw myself at him, and I can’t do that.

I can’t, not after the way he decided I was guilty without giving me a chance to defend myself.

Not after he told me he holds me responsible for something that's not my fault. It’s not.

There’s another knock on the door. "Goldie, I know you’re in there," he calls out.

"Oh my god, I’m not ready, I’m not."

"Want me to tell him to leave?"

"Yes, no, I don’t know." I glance around the space, then bound toward the bedroom door.

"Where are you going?"