Chapter Twenty-Five CASEY
Chapter Twenty-Five
CASEY
I make it to Phillip’s room a little after midnight. Sienna and I spent the last few hours walking through my new Instagram account. I felt like a grandpa asking her the silliest questions. I was truly starting from square one: “And what if I want to put one of those filters on it?”
By the time I finally felt like I had a handle on everything, it was later than I thought, but I wanted to keep my promise to Phillip, so I’ve come down to his suite—and as soon as I knock, he whisks open the door and drags me inside. It’s like he was there, pacing frantically on the other side.
“Took you long enough,” I tease.
“Took you long enough,” he groans in mock annoyance.
“I’ve been really busy!”
He’s already starting to draw up my dress as he leans in to kiss me with a frenzied passion. Apparently, the first item on his agenda is getting his hands all over me, and who am I to protest? Within minutes, I’m naked and pressed right up against the door of his suite. The cool wood holds me up as Phillip thrusts into me, stealing a kiss as I cry out for him.
Before getting here, I swore to myself that I would make the most of our night. I wouldn’t bring up anything concerning our relationship or try to ruin our last few hours together. Phillip must have come to the same conclusion, or—as much as it hurts to consider—he’s really not all that torn up about it, because neither one of us tries to delve into our future.
After we have sex against the door, we scurry into the bathroom to take a shower. We’re so good about it, too, actually washing ourselves (go us!) and not getting distracted by each other. Okay, there is a moment when I just stare at him as he’s soaping his chest and abs, a little slack jawed. To distract myself, I bring him in on the new development: the insanely generous thing Sienna’s done for me. I’m bursting with excitement over it, and he’s just as pleased as I am.
“Casey, this is just the thing for you.”
“It really feels that way,” I say, happiness brimming over. “And it’s okay if it doesn’t take off right away and all that. Not everyone can be Sienna Thompson. I might just not have the same general appeal as she does, you know? But that’s okay because I’m not trying to be a duplicate of her. There’s room for all of us, and really, I think my feed will be different. I want to really guide people through travel, and what Sienna does is way different. She uses these exotic destinations as more of accessories to her glamorous lifestyle, if that makes sense. And it’s not a bad thing!” I hurry to amend. “I love it, I just think ... my page would naturally be different than hers because, well, I’m different. I want to hone my voice and really create something unique.”
Phillip’s grinning at me. “I can tell how excited you are about it.”
I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. “You’d tell me if it was silly, wouldn’t you?”
There’s no one else in my life to ask, no one to redirect me if I’m making a huge mistake. He steps forward, cradles my face, and tells me with absolute conviction, “It’s genius, really. You’ll work hard and make it successful; I know it.”
I beam and lean in to kiss him, so relieved to have his approval.
Through the night, I barely manage a few hours of sleep. Phillip and I stay up late acting as if our sole mission in life is to try and memorize every curve and contour of each other’s bodies. After I do finally crash, I wake up a few hours later with a bone-crushing weariness. I look at the clock on the bedside table and realize with panic that it’s much later than I hoped. Morning is here. Our time together is officially drawing to a close, and though I try to press them down— no, no, no , I repeat to myself. Don’t be sad —silent tears start to fall. As I lie there with a breaking heart, I never wake Phillip; I’m careful to gather myself before he stirs. With great care, I tidy up my feelings and stow them away, just like I’ve done the last few days.
When he finally looks at me with sleepy, sweet eyes, he leans over to kiss me. None the wiser. “I need to get ready, but stay in bed if you want. I know you must be tired.”
So I do. I stay under the covers, listening to him move about the room, watching him pack—efficiently and quickly, of course—before he showers and dresses in a pressed navy suit. He’s gorgeous and absolutely, positively devastating. This man can never be topped; I envy all the women who’ll get the pleasure of crossing paths with him today. Tomorrow. God, how lucky someone would be to have this man forever .
Once he’s nearly finished, I crawl out of bed (reluctantly, because, hello, not-too-hard-not-too-soft king mattress I’ll never get to experience again in my life because I’m too poor), and I dress in my clothes from the night before. Phillip watches me as I do it, but I pretend not to notice because we’re doing so well. I can’t screw it up now.
He asks if I want breakfast, but I can’t eat. Nothing’s getting down into this stomach today. It’s a vise.
“Still full from last night,” I lie. “Besides, I need to go pack. My suite is a mess.”
I’m not even exaggerating. I’ve been so busy the last few days that I haven’t had a chance to begin getting my things together.
He checks his watch with a frown. “I leave here at nine.”
“I think I depart an hour later.”
It’s already 8:05 a.m.
God, the minutes are slipping by like quicksand.
He looks up, meeting my eyes. My chest constricts. “I could stay, I think. I’d be cutting it close getting to—”
“No, no.” I cut him off. “Let’s say our goodbyes now.”
I want to be helpful. It’s so important for me to hold it together, to be strong in this. We really have the chance to keep things good between us. I think back on how Sienna described her fight with Javier, how she wished she’d just left while the getting was good. I want to make it so if we ever do cross paths again in the future, years down the line, we can smile and think back fondly of our time together. That wouldn’t be such a bad thing. A happy farewell is within reach; I just have to ignore that ache of sadness and put on a brave face. I know I can do it. Especially if I rely on humor.
Once Phillip walks me to the door, I reach out my hand for him to formally shake, and I start to speak with a businesslike tone as if we’ve just ended a meeting together. “Phillip Woodmont, it’s been an absolute pleasure. My pleasure, mostly.” I throw in a teasing wink.
He laughs and accepts my hand. “Casey Hughes. It was good to see you, after all these years.”
His gaze contradicts his words. Too serious. Too conflicted.
Heat springs from where we touch. His grip tightens, and my throat starts to tighten. The dam holding back all the unshed tears is starting to crack and splinter.
“You have yourself a fine cruise ship here. I loved every inch of it. Loved the whole trip, actually.” A tear springs free even as I keep smiling. I laugh and brush it away like it’s nothing. “Damn allergies.”
Phillip frowns and tugs me close so he can envelop me in his arms. “ Casey— ”
I squeeze my eyes closed and shake my head so my forehead rolls back and forth against his sturdy chest. “Please don’t make it harder.”
“It doesn’t have to be like this.”
I can’t consider otherwise. Hope can be such a terrible thing, and I’ve been so careful not to feed off it the last few days. I refuse to start now.
“You have somewhere to be, and so do I. I have a whole new life to be getting to, apparently! So stop delaying me, will you?” Only I’m the one hugging him for dear life, not letting go. “Just ... okay. I’m going to step back; you’re going to smile, and then I’m going to open the door and walk out. Are you ready?”
“No.”
My heart sinks. “Phillip,” I chide.
“Is this truly what you want?”
No. No. Absolutely not. It’s the last thing I want, you fool, and yet I’m nodding. “Yes. It’s the best way forward. I appreciate everything you’ve done. Your kindness ...” I realize I’m veering far too close to a well of sentiment and sadness and feelings, so I stop short and let my sentence linger.
He bends to kiss the top of my head, and it seems like he’s trying to absorb my scent for as long as he can. Despite everything, tears really start spilling down my cheeks. The dam is officially broken.
“Okay, here we go,” I say, narrating my movements. “I’m stepping back. Look, I’m doing it. I’m waving. Now you wave to me.”
He doesn’t. His eyes are stormy, his brow deeply furrowed.
“Wave.”
Still nothing.
I sigh. “Fine, we’ll skip it. I’m going to kiss you one more time, and then that’s it.”
Without confirmation from him, I step forward, press up onto my toes, and plant a gentle, fleeting kiss on his lips, and when it’s done, I turn for the door, wrench it open, and never look back.