Prologue #2
Life on a vineyard is intense. It never really stops, not even in the dead of winter. He's up early every morning, checking on one thing or another, arguing with his cousin, Bastian, or fixing something.
I roll from the bed with a groan. My toes sink into the plush white rug stretched across the hardwood floor before I pad toward the bathroom.
"Good grief." I blink at my reflection in the mirror over the ornate sink, caught off guard by how wild I look this morning. My hair is a mess. Mascara is smudged beneath my eyes. Ridley's marks are all over me.
I poke around for a spare toothbrush, not really surprised when I find an unopened pack beneath the sink.
I know they aren't there because he brings women home with him regularly.
Like me, Ridley was a virgin until last night.
Well, he was mostly a virgin. We've been doing all kinds of naughty things all over this vineyard for two weeks already.
But the toothbrushes are there because he plans for everything. He's meticulous in the most charming way.
Especially when it comes to giving me orgasms. Oh, yeah. He was definitely meticulous about those, demanding more than one every single time he was inside me last night.
Heat unfurls at the reminder, and I groan, quickly brushing my teeth to distract myself. He might not have needed a recovery period last night, but judging by the way every muscle in my body aches this morning, I do.
Once I've finished brushing my teeth, I take a quick shower, groaning again at the smell of his body wash all over me.
"I have it so freaking bad," I mutter to myself, chuckling.
My phone buzzes as I step out of the shower. I wrap a towel around myself and hurry back to the bedroom to scoop it up.
Lucy: I'm married!
I laugh to myself, genuinely happy for her. Oliver has always treated her like a princess. I'm so damn thrilled she's already pregnant. Thank God her dad didn't freak out entirely. It would have broken her heart into pieces.
Me: I know!
Me: Why are you texting me? Aren't you supposed to be tied up in your husband's bed right now?
Lucy: He had to let me up so we could get to the airport. We're already on board. I just wanted to tell you that I love you.
I smile at her message.
Me: I love you too.
I stoop to scoop my dress up from the floor, not that I'll be wearing it out of here this morning. Ridley tore the delicate fabric, trying to get me out of it last night. Apparently, the man has no patience.
For the record, that isn't a complaint.
Lucy: How are things with you and Ridley? Don't think I didn't see the two of you sneaking away last night.
I grin at her message, pausing my search for my bra to type out a response.
Me: Who me? Don't know what you're talking about.
I spot my bra and panties on the floor and snag them before she can respond.
Lucy: You're a terrible liar, Paisley Molina. But I'm going to let you get away with it because our flight is about to take off. We will be discussing this later!
I chuckle to myself. Of course she isn't letting me off that easily. But I'm not sure what to say. Ridley and I had an amazing night. I'm head over heels for him.
But…he's supposed to leave for Italy today, and I have to head back to Stanford. How is this going to work? I have a million questions and no answers. All I know is that I want it to work. Desperately.
The thought of him leaving already hurts.
God, this wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to fall in love. But Ridley? Well, I don't think it's possible to fit a man like him onto an agenda. He's not an item on a checklist or something that comes with a timeline.
I don't regret meeting him. Besides, Stanford is only three hours from here. Once he's back from Italy, we can find a way to make it work until I graduate…right?
Anxiety trembles through me.
Me: Have fun!
Lucy sends me a thumbs-up in response.
I exit out of our messages, pulling up Ridley's number to find out where he is, but the line rings once before going straight to voicemail.
"Dammit," I mutter, hanging up without leaving a message. We both agreed last night that we don't want this to end…but we really need to talk about what that means. How does he see this working while he's in Italy? While I'm finishing law school?
I drop my phone on the bed and prowl into his closet to find something I can actually wear until I get to my cabin.
The mostly empty closet shelves send a lump into my throat. I swallow hard, refusing to think about what they signify. If I do, I might crack.
What's still in the closet is neatly arranged by color. Even his t-shirts are hanging up. I snag one from the hanger before grabbing a pair of sweats from the opposite side. Like the shirts, they're arranged by color. So are the few fancy ass suits he's leaving behind.
I pause long enough to randomly switch the order of items here and there, leaving a little touch of chaos behind, just because I can. Just because he needs a little chaos in his life. He works too hard.
Once I'm satisfied with my handiwork, I stroll back into the bedroom and dress quickly before picking up his tuxedo from the floor. I'm surprised he didn't already take care of it. He must have been in a hurry when he left this morning.
I pause in the kitchen to write him a note in case he gets back before I do, only to pause with the pen poised over the paper. What the heck am I supposed to say?
I'm crazy about you isn't exactly something best left in a note, is it?
Probably not.
Thanks for last night. I'll never forget it. You were perfect. -P
It doesn't say nearly enough. I don't want us to be just a fling. I don't want this to be over. I want him, whatever that looks like for us. But none of that should be left in a note. It should be delivered in person.
I just need to find him first.
A n hour later, I duck into the winery, dressed in my own clothes, anxious as hell. I've already checked half the property, and no one has seen him.
He wouldn't just leave without saying goodbye…right?
My anxiety grows.
Something doesn't feel right.
Someone around here always knows where to find him, but this morning, they don't have a clue. The guys in the field haven't seen him. Their receptionist seemed surprised by the question when I asked her if she'd seen him. All she would tell me was that he was unavailable.
That wasn't reassuring.
Haven, his cousin, flicks a glance up at me from behind the front counter, her face breaking out into a bright, sunny smile. "Hey, Paisley."
"Hey." I cast a glance around. "Um, have you seen Ridley this morning?"
"Ridley?" Her brows furrow. "He's at the airport."
"What?"
She hesitates for a long moment, like she doesn't want to say anything, and then she sighs. Her lips pull down into a frown. "His flight to Italy leaves in half an hour."
I sway on my feet.
"Shit. Are you okay?"
No.
Hell no, I'm not okay. He really just slept with me and then walked away like it meant nothing? He left me to wake up alone in his bed while he was on his way to the airport?
I'm not ready for this to be over.
Then it won't be.
Bile climbs up my throat, threatening to choke me at the memory of his promise. How could he say that and then just…walk away?
"Paisley?"
Because he didn't mean it. He just said what you wanted to hear.
"You're sure he's at the airport?"
She hesitates again. "He and Bastian left a couple of hours ago." Her gaze flickers across my face, full of regret, like she hates being the one to break the news to me. "Should I call him?"
He actually left.
Tears burn at the backs of my eyes.
"No. It's fine. I'm fine," I lie, turning toward the door as my stomach twists. "Thanks."
"Paisley–"
I shove my way through the door, nearly knocking Jax over in the process.
"Whoa, careful," he says, reaching out to grab me.
"Sorry, sorry." I stumble around him before he can touch me, trying like hell not to throw up on his muddy boots.
"You okay, Paisley?"
No. I woke up alone in your cousin's bed, ready to change my entire life for him…and he couldn't even be bothered to say goodbye.
He's a liar.
And I fell for it. I believed him.
God, I'm so stupid!
"Fine." I dip my head to hide the tears already slipping down my cheeks, and hurry down the path toward my cabin.
Jax calls my name behind me, but I don't turn around. I just keep walking, stumbling really. My mind races, trying to make sense of this…but there is no sense in it. I fell in love with him. I thought he felt the same. But he just…fucking left.
Halfway to the cabin, I crouch, dry heaving in the weeds.
It doesn't make me feel any better. God, I'm such an idiot. I actually convinced myself that he felt the same way about me! Clearly, he doesn't. This whole thing was just about getting laid to him.
I gave him my heart, and I was just a fucking wedding hookup to him.
My heart cracks in half, all my plans and hopes for a future with him shattering to dust at my feet.
I stumble through the door into my cabin, sobbing so hard I can't breathe. The urge to flee beats at me like a war drum as I race into the bedroom, throwing my stuff into my suitcase with shaking hands.
It takes fifteen minutes to erase every sign of me from the cabin. And five more to reach my car. By the time his stupid flight is in the air, I'm already on my way back to Stanford, determined to leave him in the past where he belongs and pretending it doesn't hurt like hell.
It's a lie. Nothing has ever hurt like this before.