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I scoot closer to her on the couch, wanting her to be completely honest and hoping she can help me figure it out. I squeeze her hand, a part of me pleading for that information.
Tamara’s eyes widen as she looks over my shoulder. I follow her gaze to find Sylvie behind me. With tears in her eyes.
“Sylvie,” I call, but she spins on her heels and strides away.
16
Sylvie
I shut the suite door behind me and rush to the closet.
Opening the door, I hurry inside to grab the clothes the maid put away and tug them off the hangers. Then, I remember they were all bought by him. Grey. Fuck. I shove them in a chair. I can't take them, but I don't want to put them away neatly.
I need to get out of here.
The way he held Tamara’s hand on the couch… One more second, and they would’ve kissed. I know it. I felt it in my gut. He still has feelings for his ex. His pregnant ex.
I agreed to come here knowing the endgame, but living it is different than talking about it. So very different.
I look at my phone. I shouldn’t bug my sister. Hell, I promised I wouldn’t. I need to do this on my own. I’ll buy a ticket, max out my credit card, and fly home.
I feel bad about abandoning his family, but I can leave them a note to explain. I don't want to make this about me, but I can't stay and watch him interact with his ex and wonder if he wants to get back to her every second. That would drive me insane.
Anxiety cools my bloodstream, and beads of sweat sheen my forehead.
Hell, I’ll probably be an obstacle if I stay—if he wants to repair things with her.
The door swings open, and Grey strides in, shutting it behind him. My heart leaps to my throat. What the heck?
He walks toward me, a glint of surprise in his widening eyes. “Sylvie, what are you doing?”
I step back. “I’m leaving. I’m not taking all these fancy clothes you bought—you can take them back or whatever. But I can’t stay here anymore,” I say, lifting my chin and hoping to convey a measure of dignity. Sure, I feel like crap, but I can’t show it to him.
Grey rubs his temples, and a pained expression washes over his face. “What are you saying? You can’t go.”
I clear my throat and look away. I can't let him sweep me off my feet. “I can and I will. You brought me here to make your ex jealous.” Accusation laces my voice. How ironic that I’m the one who ended up searing with jealousy?
“I did not.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Or maybe you wanted to see how you felt when you saw her again.”
He bridges the gap between us. “I know how I felt. I felt nothing,” he says, determined.
The honesty I see in his eyes melts my coldest resolve. What if he's telling the truth? I shake my head, confused. “That’s not what it seemed like. You held her hand as you questioned what was wrong with you that she wouldn’t want to have kids with you.”
He touches my elbow, nudging me, pleading with his eyes. “I held her hand because I wanted her attention. Give me a second. Listen—you know why I said that?”
I suck in a breath. “Enlighten me.”
“As you know, a part of me wondered if something was wrong with me. Call it fragile male ego,” he says with a small smile. Then he sobers, a serious expression crossing his handsome face. “Most importantly, I didn’t want to repeat whatever mistake I made in the past. Not with you.”
I let his words sink in, my body restless. “Oh really? With me?”
Could this be true? Could he have asked Tamara because he wanted to be a better man in his next relationship—with me?
He strokes my cheek. “Yes. I care for you, Sylvie. I know it’s crazy, but I’m falling for you.”
My internal temperature rises, and I’m suddenly lightheaded. “You… are?”
