Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
As I looked at her conflicted face, I made an executive decision that seemed like the right thing to do, even if it killed me. “Originally, I thought I wouldn’t leave until you told me to go. But I actually think it might be better if I put some space between us. You shouldn’t have to lie about your whereabouts just to appease my need to talk to you. Nor do I want you to feel pressured. So, I think I’ll go back to California.”
Her brows furrowed. “Really?”
“Yes. I think that’s best. Don’t you? I don’t want to be some secret that’s stressing you out.”
An alarm went off on her phone.
She looked down at it. “Shit. I lost track of time. I have to go.”
“Go get your daughter,” I said, feeling choked up and a bit depressed.
“When will you be leaving?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“Probably tomorrow.”
The look of alarm on her face told me she didn’t want me to go. But I knew her hands were tied right now. My gut told me to remove myself from the equation to allow her to draw whatever conclusion was best for her.
“It won’t be the last time you see me unless you want it to be. All you ever have to do is tell me you need me, and I’ll be on the next plane back. Primrose, I need you to know I will always be here for you.”
To my shock, she reached for me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me into a tight embrace. I felt her heart beating against my chest and closed my eyes, relishing the feel of what I knew to be true: Primrose still loved me.
Maybe that love was different now, maybe it would have to remain unrequited. But there was solace in knowing it hadn’t totally disappeared. I’d take that over nothing. I’d take that over her believing I was the heartless prick she’d lived the past five years thinking I was. But I also wondered if this hug was goodbye. That wrecked me.
She pulled back and wiped her eyes. Fuck. I was really messing with her mind. That only validated the fact that I needed to give her space.
“You have my number. You know where I live. I’m not going anywhere, Primrose.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
A moment later, she disappeared out the door.
As she drove away, I tried not to think about the fact that I might never see her again. Instead, I had to believe.
When Benjamin walked in a few minutes later, he found me staring blankly into the fire.
“What happened, Dorian?”
My gaze stayed fixed on the flames. “I decided we should go back to California.”
“Why?”
“It’s too much for her. I’ve said what I needed to. Now I need to give her breathing room. She needs time to digest all this.”
“When are we leaving?”
I finally turned to him. “Tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“That this isn’t the outcome you were hoping for.”
“It’s not over yet. I feel it in my heart. I just don’t know if I’m gonna have to wait three years or thirty. But I’ll wait—at least until she tells me it’s over and decides to marry him.”
“Is that being fair to yourself? If she remains unsure, you just stop your life for the next six months or whatever? What does that even look like?”
I shrugged. Any life outside of one with Primrose seemed remarkably unimportant right now. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far. But one thing about growing up and maturing is realizing that it’s not all about me. Her little girl needs to come first. Whatever Primrose needs to do for her daughter is what she’s gonna choose. And I’m okay with that. Because I love her. And I also love her daughter because she’s a direct extension of her mother. I need to follow my gut here. And my gut is telling me to physically walk away, even if my heart is still with her.”
Benjamin placed a hand on my shoulder. “Okay, then. I’ll start gathering our things.”
CHAPTER 25
* * *
Primrose
An all-consuming energy followed me around the rest of that afternoon. Rosie colored in the living room after I picked her up from school, and I went into the adjacent sunroom and picked up my brush for the first time in forever. I’d had all of the equipment set up for a while now but rarely touched it. Yet today, I really felt like painting. It seemed so natural once I started the first strokes.
When I began, I wasn’t sure where I was going with it. But gradually the canvas transformed into a scene from my past. It was the pool at the mansion, lit up at night with multicolored lights. It wasn’t clearly identifiable as the pool, as it was more abstract, but the colors were exactly as I remembered them. The image embodied the nostalgia I felt as I thought about Dorian returning to California tomorrow. This wasn’t my best work, but it reminded me why I’d always created art: to express myself. I realized it had been hard to do that after my breakup with Dorian because I’d felt dead inside. Being around him again had lit the fire that had been missing—in a different way even than my daughter being born. Dorian had come all the way out here, risking his own heart to make sure I knew I mattered to him. Yet I’d given him nothing back because I was too afraid to feel anything. The cornucopia of colors I’d just created reflected the chaos inside of me.