He would never, ever stop wondering.
“And now?” He barely dared ask.
She zipped her bag, and it sounded like the end of the world. “Now I can go home knowing it was never meant to be.”
He took a step back. She was done. Really, truly done, and he didn’t have any more illusions about changing her mind. Besides, it wasn’t right. He’d told her, that first night she’d let him make her come: Anything she didn’t want to happen—he would never force it. That hadn’t just been about sex.
It was her choice. He could respect that. He had to respect that.
She raised the handle of her suitcase and turned toward the door.
Oh, goddammit. Fuck decorum and fuck respect. “You know,” he said, stopping her. “The only reason I didn’t tell you the truth right off the bat.” It was a weakness, admitting this. It rankled, but who cared? He’d already given her everything else. “It wasn’t to deceive you, or to seduce you.”
She paused.
It was his only chance.
“You were beautiful, and smart, and you saw right through my bullshit.” He took a deep breath. “And I thought—I thought you saw something more than just that superficial stuff. Like you wanted to see more than that. And I wanted it. I wanted it so fucking bad, though I didn’t know it at the time. The idea that a girl might like me not because of my name, or who my parents are, or because I’ve got some money.” Because of all the things that had been beyond his control. His lungs felt hollow in his ribs. “I wanted you to like me for who I was.”
“Oh, Rylan.” Her gaze met his. “I would have liked you for who you were regardless.” The corner of her lip wobbled. “But you were the one who wouldn’t show me who that was.”
He had to look away.
When he turned to her again, her eyes were glassy and her cheeks splotched, but her shoulders were back. She lifted her chin.
“You told me—” She cut herself off and started again. “This morning, you said you thought I already knew what I wanted. I just had to stop worrying about what I should do and go for it. You’re right. You were right about me.” She shook her head. “I hope you figure out what you want, Rylan. I hope you can be honest about it, at least to yourself, when you do.” She shot him a shaky smile. “Because I’m not the only one you’ve been lying to this week.”
With that, she let go of the handle of her suitcase and came over to him. She put two hands on his shoulders, but he knew what this was.
The kiss when it came was hard and angry and sad. It tasted like good-bye.
“Don’t go,” he said, sounding broken to his own ears. “If you want me to leave, I will, but stay. Take the room.” It’s yours anyway.
With a wistful little smile, she said, “I like to pay my own way.”
And that was it.
She made it all the way to the door before he gave in and stopped her one last time. It was fucking masochistic, dragging it out like this, but he couldn’t let this one thing go unsaid. “I never lied about how amazing you are.” There was more, too, about how he hoped she pursued her art and her dreams, because she was so damn good. She made the world a more beautiful place.
But before he could reopen his mouth, she said, “Neither did I.” She didn’t look back.
The door opened and closed behind her. It sounded like a death knell. All the energy going out of him at once, he collapsed into the empty chair in the empty, empty room.
Just like that, she was gone.
chapter TWENTY-THREE
Oh God.
Kate just barely made it to the elevator bay before she broke down, smacking the button over and over while the dam burst inside her. She heaved out her first rough sob while still mashing at the button, waiting for the freaking doors to open. She had to get this under control—there could be someone in the lift, Rylan could decide to chase after her, hell, a maid might stumble by—but it wasn’t any use. She’d managed to hold it together that whole time in Rylan’s room, and now it was all crashing over her.
She’d walked out on him. He’d lied to her, had been pretending to be someone he thought she’d like. The entire time, when he’d touched her and when he’d told her she deserved more. It had all been one big lie.
The doors of the elevator slid open, revealing an empty car, thank God. Dragging her suitcase along after her, she stepped in and pressed the button for the lobby, letting out a whole new fresh torrent of tears with the closing of the doors.
Alone in that contained space, she shuddered and buried her face in her hands. She’d loved him so much. It had been too soon to feel so strongly, but she had. None of it had been real, though, and she’d been such an idiot to let him in in the first place. More of one to fall so fast and so hard. He was probably laughing at her right now.
Except she’d seen the look on his face. The devastation. He was a damn good actor, she knew, but was he that good? Did she care?
The elevator dinged as it arrived at the ground floor, and she scrubbed at her eyes. As if that would help.
She had practical things to worry about. She needed to find a place to stay for her last couple of nights. Rylan probably wouldn’t come looking for her, but there weren’t any guarantees about that, so she needed to find a different hostel than the one she’d started out in. He had her email address, but no other contact information for her. She was probably safe.
She shoved her hair back from her face and squared her shoulders before stepping out. The little details—the ones she’d somehow managed to ignore every time they’d strode through here in the past—stuck out to her like sore thumbs now. Gilded edges on mirrors and a marble bust beside the door. Thick draperies and gleaming tile. Of course this place cost more than he’d said. Lying liar.
Shaking her head, she marched up to the desk and dug through her purse until she found her keycard. She placed it down on the counter and slid it across to the woman standing there.
Who of course asked her a question in French.
Shit. She’d gotten way too dependent on Rylan handling all of their transactions this past week. She blinked a couple of times, all her high school French flying out of her mind, deserting her.
“English?” she asked weakly.
“But of course. Are you checking out, mademoiselle?”
“No. No, I—the other person I was staying with. He can keep the room.” It was his anyway. She bit her lip. Maybe she should offer to pay her half of the bill for the past few days. As if there was any chance she could afford it. “It’s just me who’s leaving.”
“I see.” She took the keycard and fixed her with a sympathetic look, and Kate wanted to melt right into the tile and disappear. “There is a water closet.” She pointed to the left, down a hallway, then gestured at her own face. “If you would like to freshen up, I can hold your bag.”
How much of a mess did she look like?
She nodded. “Thanks.” She rolled her suitcase to the end of the desk, where the woman tucked it under the counter.
Her cheeks burned as she rounded the corner to the bathroom, hauling the door open and stepping inside. At least there wasn’t anybody else there to witness her humiliation. She stepped up to the mirror and took a good, long look at herself.
It was worse than she’d thought.
Her eyes and nose were red, heartache written across every inch of her. In despair, she grabbed a wad of paper towels and ran them under the tap.
The goddamn gold-filigree tap.
Goddammit.