Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
I hop off the counter and use the restroom, and when I come out, I find him leaning against the counter, somehow looking even sexier than he did when he approached me on the dance floor.
“What do you say we get out of here and go get something to eat?”
My stomach drops at his question because I want to say yes, but I know I can’t. I wasn’t even supposed to see him today, let alone be with him like this.
“I can’t,” I murmur, shaking my head. “It’s already going to be too hard.”
Before I can finish my sentence, Nate eats up the space between us and pulls me into his arms. “It doesn’t have to be.” He tips my chin up. “Please,” he pleads softly. “I know it sounds insane, but I’ve fallen in love with you, Princess.”
Princess…
My thoughts are transported back to last night.
“I wish you were my prince.”
“I do too. Now, sleep, Princess. I’ve got you.”
But he can’t be my prince because we live too far apart, and when I get on the plane, we’ll have hundreds, if not thousands, of miles between us.
“No.” I shake my head and step out of his touch. “This was only temporary. We both knew this. You don’t live near me. Sure, we’ll start off strong. We’ll video-chat and text, and we’ll make plans to see each other. But life will get in the way, and shit will happen. And days of not seeing each other will turn into weeks and then months.”
“I’m not him,” Nate reminds me, as if I don’t already know how different the two men are. “I’m fucking rich. I can fly from—”
“No!” I cover his mouth. “It can’t happen. My heart already hurts, and you’re still standing in front of me. Imagine how badly it will hurt when I have to go weeks and months without seeing you. And when does it end? Who moves to be with who? Are you in a place to move to be with me?”
Nate opens and then closes his mouth, his features morphing from a look of hope to defeat because he knows I’m right.
“Please don’t do this.” I reach up and place my hand on the side of his face. “If things were different…” I sniffle back a sob.
“Okay,” he whispers. “I’ll let you go, but only because you want me to.”
I nod in understanding, then get on my tiptoes and give him a soft kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for reminding me of the magic,” I whisper. “In another lifetime, you would’ve been my Prince Charming.”
And then I walk out of the restroom without glancing back—because I know if I look at him, I might cave.
When I get back to my room, I spend the night and the next day crying, wishing Nate would show up, but knowing he won’t because he respects my decision.
On Monday, when I get to the airport, with my luggage in tow, I reach into my purse to grab my passport, but when I pull out my wallet, I find a business card–sized paper in there.
Princess, keep this in case you change your mind.
—Your Prince
My heart pounds in my chest. I know if I flip it over, I’ll find Nate’s information. It will probably have his last name, his phone number, the company he works for. And for a second, I consider keeping it. I don’t have to look at it now. I can slip it into my wallet and save it.
But then I remember how much time I wasted with John, trying to hold our relationship together while we were thousands of miles apart. The resentment, the bitterness, the cheating.
And without flipping the card over, I drop it into a garbage can.
It’s for the best, I tell myself.
Nate and I will always have London, but that’s all we can ever have.
chapter eleven
PAIGE
Two Months Later
“Let’s go.” Ana pulls the covers off me and glares daggers my way.
“Did you break into my house?” I groan, swiping at the edge of the covers so I can pull it back over me.
“You gave me a key,” she says dryly.
“In case of an emergency,” I mutter.
“And you refusing to get out of bed is an emergency.” She sighs and sits on the edge of my mattress. “You do this every weekend, and I miss my best friend. You work your ass off during the required hours, and then you hide away in your house every night and weekend.”
“I’m tired,” I choke out.
“No, you’re heartbroken,” she argues.
“It was only a fling. Not long enough to be heartbroken over.”
“The heart doesn’t know time. It knows feelings, and you caught feelings for this guy. But you made your choice to walk away. You threw away the card with his information, and now, it’s time to move on.”
“I’d rather sleep,” I grumble. “I’m tired, and I don’t feel good.”