CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Whitney
I stare at my cell ringing in my hand and debate not answering it. I wait long enough for the call is pushed to voicemail but the minute it is, my phone begins ringing again.
I wince and steel myself for this conversation.
“Hardy. Good morning.” I infuse a cheerful nonchalance in my voice despite the tug inside of me.
The same tug that prompted me to leave this morning without saying goodbye.
“Whit? Are you okay?”
“Yes. Fine.” My throat feels like it’s closing in.
“Where are you?”
“At LaGuardia. My flight leaves in a few minutes.”
His chuckle says it all. Disbelief. Confusion. “I don’t understand. We’re waiting for you here at the jet. Like Ari told you we would be.”
“I know. I just ... thought this might be easier all around.”
I can’t see his face but can hear the rush of air as he sucks in a breath and can imagine his expression. “Easier, huh?”
“Yes.” My voice breaks some and I don’t understand why. This is what I wanted, right? To not complicate matters and keep my distance?
“So you scratched that itch, huh?” Is that hurt I hear in his voice? Is it anger ?
“Have a safe flight,” I say. “I have to go. They just called for boarding.”
He says my name but I end the call. It’s just easier that way, but I still hear the hurt in his voice and hate myself for it.
Then again, isn’t that what this is all about? Pain? Avoiding it? Knowing I’ll be the recipient of it soon enough if I let this go down the path last night led us to?
Yes. I like him.
There. I said it.
But this is so much more than just about him. At least that’s the lie I’m forcing myself to believe.
He called you just now because he was worried, Whit. Because he cares about you.
Cue more panic. Much like the one that led me to be here, on a commercial flight squeezed in the middle seat, the glitz and glamour from last night gone in an instant, instead of the Mayhem private jet with mimosas and Hardy smiling across from me.
My stomach flutters at the thought of him.
And that’s exactly why I’m here. Because of that flutter.
I was hoping this commercial flight was the right back to reality for me and would help erase the feeling I had last night when I woke up to Hardy curled around me with his hand possessively planted on my hip. The feeling that owned my thoughts for so long that I propped myself up on my elbow and studied his profile while he slept.
I had an inherent need to reach out and touch him. His lips. His chest over his heart. Just him.
It’s the fact that he treated me like an equal when clearly, we aren’t. It’s the notion that he respected my boundaries when most men would argue for more. It’s the idea that he understands the why behind what it is that I do and why the kids are my focus. And it’s the undeniable chemistry we have every damn time we’re in a room together.
But last night as he slept and I dreamed while wide awake, I dared to think about what it would be like to live a life like this. Not the movie premieres and the private jets, but the falling asleep with someone and the wanting to wake up to them every day. The feeling of safety and security and not having to worry they’ll abandon you.
But I can’t allow myself that luxury.
I can’t allow myself to think of anything beyond the physical with someone.
People I like don’t stick around. Anyone who has ever made me feel this way leaves me. My mom. Patrick. All the families who said they were going to adopt me who didn’t.
And Alexander Hardy most definitely won’t be around. He has a team waiting for him across the ocean. A whole life. So why let myself get attached? Why let myself feel, when he too will be gone in no time?
So yes, I panicked and slipped out of the room before he woke.
I needed to put some distance between me and these thoughts. I needed to knock myself back to the only reality I’ll allow myself to know.
Because isn’t the one thing I crave more than anything, the same thing that I push away out of fear?
And Alexander Hardy represents both.