Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
VIKTOR
The shower had been running for over an hour. I couldn’t tell if I was relieved or not.
She’d locked herself in the bathroom three hours ago. Maybe four. She’d stumbled inside shaking, nearly collapsing to her knees. Even through the closed door, her ragged breathing had been loud enough to hear.
And I wasn’t sure what I could do other than sit near the door and listen to her sobs. Then silence. Not that I’d expected any other reaction, but I’d hoped we would be at home, where she could call her family if she wanted. Go to them at worst. Or call her therapist.
I should have maneuvered the conversation we had on the plane better. Perhaps insist on different rooms. But of course everything had spiraled out of control.
And now… Nothing will be the same anymore.
The morning coffees we shared. Conversations we had in the evenings. On the patio when it was cold. On the terrace when it got warmer. Her curious eyes whenever I shared something new about the divisions in Rowks Group, and her dimples when I shared something amusing that made her lips curl up.
Was there a chance for me to glimpse all that again?
I knew this would happen. Knew she would turn her back toward me. Knew I should never have let this get this far. That it would hurt her.
Yet I never considered how much it would hurt me.
When the door finally opened, everything inside me froze. I looked up, catching the loathing in her gaze. Considering I’d been repeating to myself that loathing was what I deserved, this should have made me feel better.
It didn’t.
What did—was her hand landing on my forehead. My eyes closed as I leaned into it.
“You look awful.” She knelt beside me. Her eyes puffy and red.
“Sophie,” I whispered.
“Don’t ‘Sophie’ me.” She got back on her feet, scoffed, and walked slowly back to the bed. “I think we need to sleep. At least for a few hours.”
I probably would not manage to fall asleep. But insomnia wasn’t new to me.
My head got dizzy when I tried to stand, and nausea rose to my throat.
“I’ll be in the bathroom,” I mumbled.
But fifteen minutes weren’t enough to get myself together, and my chest burned after spending several minutes hunched over the toilet. At least the nausea subsided. Yet the moment I went back to the room, it seemed to twist in my stomach again.
Sophie followed each of my movements.
“Feel awful?” she asked, and when I nodded, she added, “Me too.” She got on the right side of the bed.
“I can sleep in the room across the hall.” I couldn’t keep my hand from shaking as I gestured toward the door.
But she shook her head, gesturing toward the other side of the bed. “How about we feel awful together?”