27. Winter

TWENTY-SEVE N

WINTER

W hen the banging on my door starts at 8 p.m., I know it can only be Veronica. Primarily because she's tried to reach me five times over the last two days, and I've been completely unavailable.

Delightfully unavailable.

Detouring through the kitchen, I open my apartment door. I catch her mid-knock and glaring down at the man dressed in all black and sitting outside my entryway. His earpiece points to him being security, which is probably the only reason why Veronica doesn't have her Reebok shoved up his ass.

In contrast to the security guard's all-black outfit, Veronica wears a Christmas sweater and leggings. The sweater is amazing—it's covered in pompoms and is a green, red, and white monstrosity. A reindeer head covers her protruding abdomen, and the apex of her belly serves as Rudolph's nose, complete with a red pom.

"Merry Christmas Eve-Eve to you too. Come on in, Rons," I say. I hand her a bowl of pre-popped kettle corn, and her eyes light up. Peace offering.

"You are so lucky I love you, Winter, because so hel p me, if you disappear for forty-eight hours again without a word , I will find you and shave your head bald!"

She waddles to my sofa, and I nod to the man outside my door before closing it.

Last week, Hunter told me he would be making changes with everything that's going on. One of those additions is twenty-four-hour security and a chauffeured ride wherever I go. I even saw Rio's handgun peeking from his shoulder holster when he opened the door for me to exit the car this morning.

"It's great to see you too, Rons," I say suppressing an eye roll.

She plops down on the sofa, pushing aside my holiday-themed pillow. Kitty jumps up on the sofa, nestling close to her. She pets him while looking at me intently.

"The only way I'll forgive you is if you tell me sordid details of you doing the nasty with Hot Daddy. So, spill ," she says, her eyes locked on me while she shoves popcorn in her face.

I flush from head to toe.

"There's really not that much to tell," I say. She lowers her chin and stares at me wide-eyed.

I try to avoid it, but a slow, beaming smile slides onto my face.

"Okay, well, maybe there's a little bit to tell."

"I knew it!" She bounces on the sofa. "Oh, my God, did you bump uglies? I want, nay, need to know!"

She's vibrating with excitement.

"No, we did not ‘bump uglies,' as you so eloquently put it." I shake my head in amusement. "But we did a lot of other things that were a lot of fun."

" Biiiiitch, like what?" She picks up speed shoveling popcorn into her mouth, chewing sloppily.

"Girl, slow down before you choke. And let's just say that Hot Da ddy lives up to his name. And many orgasms were had."

She squeals.

"And that's all you're getting out of me," I say.

I head to the kitchen, noting the stacks of mail on the island.

Ugh, I should open those.

I shuffle through the piles I've ignored over the past few days while soaking in my time with Hunter, absently thumbing through them. I set aside the ones that look important, chucking aside the ads and credit card offers. I pause when I come across an envelope that's starkly different from the other mailers. My name stands out across the front of the card, the blocky handwriting strange against the elegant feel of the paper. I flip it over, noting there isn't a return address.

"So now that you've pretty much popped your cherry," Veronica says, and I look at her over my shoulder. "Let's talk about getting you out there. You need to play the field."

I look up from what I'm doing to consider her words. Do I want to play the field?

The idea of being with anyone else immediately fills me with a sick feeling.

In my heart, I know that Hunter is the one for me. I know that I love him.

But does he love you?

A thread of tension weaves through me, but I shake it off. I know Hunter cares about me. I know he cares deeply about me. It feels like he loves me.

But can I trust that feeling?

"I don't think I want to play the field," I say to Veronica softly, not meeting her eyes. She tilts her head to the side as if I said something perplexing.

"What do you mean? You can't go back to being a nun."

"No, I don't plan on doing that. I just…" I start wiping invisibl e crumbs off the countertop. "I think he and I are the real thing. We're in love."

Veronica's gaze turns soft, clearly radiating pity.

After a long moment of discomfort, she says, "Have you said, ‘I love you' to each other?" She folds her hands over her belly. It's crazy to think she has more of her pregnancy behind her than in front of her.

I struggle to answer her. "Well, no…" I stop talking at her look. I know by the crease of her eyebrows that she's concerned.

"Winter," she says quietly. "You can't possibly be in love with him. It's too soon. You barely know the man. Hell, I don't know the man—not even his name." She gets up more quietly than ever and pads over to where I stand in the kitchen.

I consider her words, staring off to the corner of my apartment. I set up the saddest Christmas tree. It's only about four feet tall, and I drag the same fake tree out year after year, even though I generally spend Christmas elsewhere. It comes with pre-strung Christmas lights, and besides assembling it, I do nothing to it to add to the festive atmosphere.

"I…" My face starts to tingle, and my chest feels tight. I shake my head quickly to dislodge my thoughts.

Maybe I have this all wrong. Maybe…

You're smarter than this.

Kitty pads over to me, putting his front paws on my leg. The simple touch shakes me out of the spiral.

What am I doing? What am I really doing here?

"You know, you're probably right. I mean, I'm damn near a doctoral-level psychologist. I know what infatuation is." I busy myself straightening up the already clean kitchen. "This is just lust at this point."

Veronica nods. "Lust is good. But don't get caught up in this whirlwind. Hot Daddy is, well, hot, I'm sure. But you should do more than screw around with just him. You should go dat e other people. See what kind of guys you like. Or girls. Are you attracted to women? You've never mentioned an interest in swimming on the other side of the pond. It could be fun if you're into it."

I laugh, but it's forced.

"I don't want you to get hurt, Winter. Because if he hurts you, he won't be Hot Daddy anymore. He'll be Dickless Daddy." The side eye she gives me makes me laugh for real this time.

"I won't get hurt, Rons. I promise. My eyes are wide open," I say. Now, if I can believe my own words.

A knock sounds at the front door, and Veronica and I look at each other. When Kitty pads over and puts his paws on the door, sniffing, I decide that I should be the one to answer it, even though I'm not expecting any more guests.

I look through the peephole and whirl around to press my back to the door.

"It's him," I say.

"Who?" Veronica rasps urgently. She grabs her purse and moves closer to me. Presumably, to whack any intruders in the head.

"Hot Daddy," I say. My eyes are wide, and I'm caught off guard. A few things are happening right now. One, I didn't expect him to show up to my apartment unannounced, and the flannel pjs and camisole with the mystery stain near the hip is the last thing I want him to see me in. Two, Veronica looks way too eager to open the door and meet him, and that's another step I'm not prepared for.

Especially if this is just a phase. I don't want her to see him—see us—and know from the jump that it's not real.

"Open it!" she hisses, pulling me away from the door. When I don't make a move to open it, she rolls her eyes and mutters, "I have to do every damn thing around here."

Swinging the door open, she says, "Helloooooooo!" and Hunter takes a step back from the doorway .

"Um," he says. "Is Winter home?"

"I'm here," I say meekly, waving at him from behind Veronica's shoulder.

"So, you're…"

Please God, Veronica. Please do not call this man Hot Daddy to his face.

"I'm sorry, what's your name?"

I release my breath.

"Hunter Brigham," he says, sticking his hand out to shake Veronica's.

"Hunter Brigham," she emphasizes, shaking his hand. I can see she's putting all the strength in her 5'3" body into squeezing the life out of Hunter's hand. "It's lovely to put a name to the face. Veronica Palmer. Best friend to Winter Vaughan and professional ass-kicker," she says.

"Veronica!" I hiss.

She looks over her shoulder at me. "What?" she says. She even bats her eyelashes for extra effect.

"It's nice to meet you, Veronica. Do you mind if I come in?" He addresses his request to both of us—Veronica, because she's quite literally barricading the door. Me, because it's my damn apartment.

"Come in," Veronica and I say at the same time.

Hunter steps inside and closes the door.

"So, Hunter Brigham," Veronica says, and I groan, dropping my face into my hands.

"Veronica, quit it," I say in a low voice.

She looks at me, and I look at her—we're having a whole conversation with our eyes.

Me: Quit your shit.

Veronica: Make me. I don't know this man!

Me: Leave him alone! Stop badgering him !

Veronica: I guess.

She gives me a rueful smile, and looking at the both of us, she shrugs her shoulders and pulls her purse up higher.

"All right, you two, I'mma head out."

I mouth, "thank you" to her; she mouths back, "yeah, yeah."

Walking her to the door, she gives me a tight hug. Well, as tight as it can be with her belly between us. Speaking close to my ear, she says, "Stay safe and keep your head about you. I see why you're so tied up over him. He's fawkin' hot."

I playfully pat her on the butt, and she turns to do the same.

When she's out the door, I don't turn around right away. It's for sure the conversation Veronica and I just had and the way she lovingly eviscerated my beliefs about my relationship with Hunter that makes me pause. I'm shook. Uncertain.

"I missed you today, Sunbeam," he says softly. I lower my head to the cool door.

I've missed him too. Today was the first day that we've spent completely apart from each other since we've started dating. We both work from Amelia Manor: him with BwP on the other side of the estate and I with August, usually in his game room. Still, I've felt off-kilter all day. And that further unsettles me.

I turn to face him.

Exhaustion etches lines on his face, and he looks more tired than I've ever seen him. Sadness colors his words, and the longer I look into his fathomless eyes, the more clearly I see the storm clouds gathering in his expression.

"I missed you too, H."

We stand there looking at each other, the tension thick between us. I take the first step, and he's there in front of me in a second. I'm in his arms .

He holds me tight with something that feels so much like desperation—it's thick in his every inhalation and exhalation.

And I don't know why, but I hold him just as tightly.

"Bad night?" I run my fingers up and down his back and smile into his chest at the fine tremor that runs through him.

"Something like that," he says, his voice strained.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Up and down. Up and down.

He inhales deeply, holds his breath, and then exhales. His body relaxes, and he rests his head on top of mine. "No, I don't, Winter." His hand runs up the back of my neck, resting in the tangle of my hair. "I need you. I need you so badly."

I tilt my head to look into his eyes.

"I'm here," I say. And he lowers his lips to mine.

There's too much left unsaid in the urgency of this kiss. I feel it in the press of his lips and the way his hands tremble as they clutch at my flesh.

It's clear that something is wrong. Terribly wrong. I just hope it doesn't mean the end of us.

"Come on, H," I whisper, taking his hand and leading him through my tiny apartment. I flick off the lights before I sit him on my bed.

"Wait here for a second," I say, my tone muted.

Moving in the dim glow coming off the Christmas tree, I get Kitty settled for the night. When I stop by the nightstand, I light the wood wick of a soy candle. Lavender, jasmine, and lemon verbena diffuse in the air. It's a candle he purchased for me on our first all-day date.

I haven't lit it in the weeks since he purchased it for me, feeling that I wanted to do so when the moment was significant.

This moment feels significant.

I move in front of him. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and he cradles his head in his right hand. His eyes fix on me .

You can't tell me that look in his eyes isn't love.

I move closer, placing my hands on his shoulders. He wraps his arms around my waist, burying his face in my stomach.

"What do you need, Hunter?"

He doesn't answer. Instead, he slowly moves my tank top up until it's off my body. My breasts bounce when they're free from the built-in bra.

"Winter," he says on a breath, taking my nipple in his mouth.

I arch my back, plunging my fingers into his hair. "H, please talk to me," I whisper. Tears well in my eyes, and I don't know why.

Don't you?

He buries his face into my stomach again. "I don't know where to start. Everything is fucked-up." He shivers.

"Hunter, please. We're friends, remember?" I pull his head back by tugging his hair. When I get a clear look at his face, he's closed his eyes. Shutting me out.

So I kiss him. I put all my love and desire and promise and fears into the kiss. Then I step back and take off my remaining clothes.

His eyes are open now, trained on my body.

"I'm ready, H," I whisper.

He swallows, and it's clear on his face that he's contemplating which step to take. What is right? What is wrong?

He takes my hand, pulling me down on him. We're back on each other as the icy silence between us turns into a conflagration.

"Winter," he says, his voice so low it's almost a growl.

The sound makes my toes curl and floods my pussy. I straddle him, rushing to remove his shirt.

He lifts his hips, removing his pants.

Now, we're both naked, chest to chest, and I shiver when he runs a hand down my stomach and between my legs .

His touch is feather-light on my clit, and when he finds the wetness of my arousal between my lips, he groans again, tilting forward to suck on the skin above my breast.

"Winter," he says urgently. I move, running my hand up and down the entire length of the hard flesh of his cock.

"Hunter." I moan his name, transforming the broken syllables into a prayer. I remove my hand from his manhood, putting both hands on his cheeks and forcing him to look at me.

His blue eyes crash into mine.

"I'm ready," I say on a faint breath.

We stare at each other for several heartbeats.

One.

Two.

Three.

Then he says, "Put me inside you, Winter."

I bite my lip and reach down for his cock again. Rubbing the tip along my seam, I moan when I rub his length across my hard nub. I rock my hips over and over.

There's no urge to pause, to hesitate, within my spirit. This moment has always been inevitable. This was always meant to happen between Hunter and me.

I put him at my entrance, and torturously, I lower myself on top of him.

My eyes cross. The stretch is unimaginable—burning, pulsing. My womanhood accepting both Hunter's presence and the significance of this reclamation of my sex.

I choose Hunter. I choose this.

Power surges through me, electric in the inherent current of our connection. I feel completely full. And when I look down to see him stretching me, breaching me, filling me, I want to weep at the pure eroticism of the moment.

His body shakes as he puts his hands on my hips. I can tell he is struggling to stay completely still and let me control the pace. He's letting me control everything about this moment .

"Winter," he says, "I want this to last forever."

I lower myself more and test moving up and down and back and forth on his cock. He leans back to rest on his elbows, and I resettle myself on top of him, putting the pressure on my knees.

At this angle, he bottoms out, and I quickly learn I love the feeling of him so deep inside me.

This feels right. This feels so right.

"Who says it can't, H?" I pant as I pick up the pace, rocking back and forth and hitting my clit on every pass over his pubic bone. I'm taking all of him now, and I can feel my wetness dripping down, slicking over both of us.

He doesn't say anything. Instead, he rubs his thumb over my clit.

"Come for me, Sunbeam," he says, and I pick up the pace quickly learning the movements that feel the best. He leans back all the way, pulling my arm to have me tilt over him, and I'm ricocheted to another level of pleasure.

"Oh, fuck, Hunter," I moan, and he grabs my breast with his free hand and picks up the pace with the other hand that's adding to the pleasure radiating from my core.

"Make it feel good, Winter. You feel like heaven to me," he whispers.

I'm wild on top of him now, racing after the orgasm that's right within my reach.

"You're not wearing a condom, H," I say between pants. My eyes screw shut.

"Do you want me to stop, Sunbeam?" He's breathing hard now. We're both sweaty, and the sounds of our lovemaking are obscene in the small apartment.

"Oh, God, no." The thought trips me to the precipice, heating me so thoroughly. I've never ever ever wanted a man to come inside me. The idea was so vile to me that I never considered it. I'm on birth control, but with H…

"On the pill," I choke out .

He groans from deep inside his chest, and I feel the vibration where my thighs press against his sides.

"I won't. I won't ever stop, Winter."

That's all I need to explode over him. I squeeze down on him, strangling his cock and fighting to push him out with the intensity of my orgasm.

"Oh, fuck!" he roars, and gripping my hip with one hand, he pulls me down with the other into a brutal kiss. His cock throbs inside me, and I feel the warmth of his cum coating my walls.

My pussy squeezes him again, completely out of my control.

I rock against him softly, coming down, and a primal part of me preens as his hands run up and down my back while he's still inside me.

I turn my head and kiss his chest. His breathing slows.

"Hunter, you can talk to me. Tell me what's wrong." I'm still whispering, even though my throat is dry from yelling out my release.

He just kisses my head and doesn't say a word.

Three a.m. never brings good news. So when my phone rings, waking me from my sleep in Hunter's arms, I know something is terribly wrong.

"Rons, what's happening? Is it the baby?" I'm immediately wide awake.

"Are you alone?" Veronica says with a strange, solemn tone.

I look back at Hunter. He's still asleep, and I pad over to the bathroom.

I sit on the closed toilet seat .

"Now I am. What's going on?" I say, keeping my voice low.

"Hunter is there?" she replies.

I'm quiet for a moment, then I say, "Yes, he spent the night."

Veronica audibly blows out a breath.

"But I'm in the bathroom right now. What's…what's happening, Veronica?"

"Let's switch to FaceTime," she says, and I move my phone from my face when it beeps.

"You're scaring me, Veronica. Please tell me what's going on." I'm embarrassed when my voice cracks, and I look away when tears well in my eyes.

I can feel it.

I have been feeling it. The tick-tock of the countdown on my happiness. It's not pessimism—it's the reality that I know something horrible will shatter my fragile hold on my bliss.

"Winter, I don't want to tell you this. But…" she breathes out again. "It's about Hunter."

I shake my head, still not looking at her through the phone screen.

"You looked him up, didn't you?" I knew she'd look him up as soon as she left. And I knew she'd do so without the rose-colored glasses I have firmly affixed to my face. The same glasses that have prevented me from digging deeper into the Brigham family beyond my initial pre-interview research.

She's silent except for a small whimper. I slide my gaze to look at her. She nods her head in the affirmative. Tears pool in her eyes.

"Rons, don't." I screw my eyes shut again, squeezing my lids together so firmly that my ocular muscles resist the action.

Don't…what? Don't cry? Don't tell me the truth? Don't take awa y this bubble of happiness that I haven't felt since my parents were alive?

She pauses for a minute. "Will you look at me, Winter?" she says softly.

I release the tension in my face, and when I allow my eyes to open a slit, I'm mortified at the tears spilling down my face. "What did you find?" I ask.

She takes a deep breath. "Winter, he's engaged," she says. She's crying alongside me, and I shut my eyes at the news.

Engaged. Engaged. Engaged.

"How do you know?" My phone pings with an incoming text message. It's an article from The Herald .

Billionaire MedTech CEO Hunter Brigham to wed socialite and philanthropist Blair Winthrope

My hands shake, and it takes all my strength to keep the phone propped up. Veronica says something I don't register while I tap to expand the webpage.

I need to know everything. So I scroll through the article.

Hunter and his…fiancée Blair make a pretty couple. He looks completely different in the pictures. Regal and aloof in his navy-colored three-piece suit. It looks similar to the one he wore on our date.

His fiancée stands next to him, smiling gently with her hand pressed against his chest. Her leg peeks from the high slit in her emerald silk dress. The massive pear-shaped diamond on her hand looks stunning in the photo.

"This could be old," I say, grasping at anything to make this not real.

"There are other articles, Winter. And…just check the date. You'll see," she says on a rushed whisper.

My blood turns to ice when I read the publication date. I force myself to read the date over and over and over.

It was published last night .

After I told him about the darkest moment in my life.

After he promised I would always have him.

After he saw me so intimately.

After I gave myself to him.

Anger nudges my despair to the side, blooming hot in my chest and rushing to flush my face.

"Veronica, get some rest. I'll call you in the morning."

"What are you going to do, Winter?" Redness rings her tired eyes.

"I'm going to handle this situation," I say.

She looks at me steadily. "You've been through hell and back, and this won't wreck you." She sniffs. "I love you. Please call me later in the morning."

When the screen goes black, I sit on the toilet for a few more minutes, staring at nothing.

One thought repeats in my head: it was published last night.

Even knowing he promised himself to another woman, he still fucked me.

And I let him. I let him have everything.

"I want this to last forever," he said to me just hours ago.

Lies. All a bunch of pretty lies.

My movements are mechanical, done by muscle memory, as I wash my hands and face. I put hand cream on to give myself something to do. It's the same brand my mother used, and I take comfort in inhaling the familiar scent.

I leave the safe haven of my bathroom.

Hunter sits on the edge of the bed, facing the bathroom door and fully dressed. His head hangs low, and the light from the bathroom illuminates his face when he raises it to look at me. His eyes are bloodshot.

Wordlessly, I walk toward him and hand him my phone.

"Is this true?" I ask, already knowing the answer but hoping he'll tell me it's not .

Praying he'll tell me that it's just a horrible misunderstanding.

Pleading with the heavens that everything I thought was real is real.

Instead, he doesn't look at the screen. He meets my gaze and nods. "Yes. It's true."

I stand there for a moment, proud that my legs still hold me upright as tears crest my eyelids. My chest tightens with the inability to breathe.

I spin the phone around in my hand, clutching it to have something to anchor myself in reality.

"Well, thank you for the fuck. But you can get out now." I turn around to go back into the bathroom, desperate to go anywhere but in the same airspace as him, and before I can close the door, he's there.

"Let me just explain," he says.

I cross my arms. "Please do. I've been waiting all night for you to explain anything —to use your words. So, speak," I say. And I wait.

When he gapes at me for several tense moments, I say, "Right. You can't." I push past him and out of the bathroom.

"For your safety, there are things you can't know."

"Oh, why don't you try me, Hunter? I'm pretty smart, according to some people."

"Winter, I?—"

"Listen, it's a simple question, yes or no. Are you currently engaged to be married?"

He doesn't answer right away. Finally, he says, "Yes."

"Then we're done here. There's nothing further to discuss."

"I know you deserve answers, something to help you understand that if you just wait?—"

"Wait? Wait for what?" I spit out. I feel myself losing it. Losing my composure. Losing ground. Losing myself.

"Fuck this," he says, and I feel my heart drop to my stomac h because he's finally figured out that I'm not worth all this drama.

He got what he wanted.

Instead of leaving, he's in front of me, crowding me against the door. My lips tremble, and I want to kiss every part of his stupid face. I hate myself for wanting that, even after all this.

"Winter." He lets out a slow breath, his arms caging me in as I press firmly against the door. "I'm so sorry." He reaches a hand to touch the side of my face, and I hate myself more that I let him.

"I'm so sorry I hurt you. I should have explained everything to you earlier. Things are messy right now, but I will make it right. Just wait for me."

I raise my eyes to his, not caring that he sees the devastation that must be in them. Because I feel wrecked right now.

I knew it would come to this and still.

His lips are on mine. Pressing, coaxing, sliding his tongue to caress mine. My hands go to his chest, grasping his shirt.

I want to push him away. I want him to leave.

Lies. Everything is a lie.

"Winter, please don't," he whispers against my lips. "Please don't break us apart."

The words pull me out of the trance. In a flash, I push him back with my arm straight and my palm hard against his chest.

"You can't do this to me, Hunter."

He closes his eyes, pushing back against my hand that's keeping us separated.

"I'm sorry, Winter. I'll do whatever I need to do to have you forgive me. To make this right."

"Make it right?" I snort. There's no making this right.

"Eh, it's okay," I say nonchalantly. "It was just a bit of fun, right? I wanted to be wild, and that's what I did. I got wild. It doesn't have to mean anything. "

My chest tightens, and my throat feels like it's closing up. I'm sure I'm having a heart attack. Or maybe I'm simply dying. I spin around, breaking the connection between our gazes.

"I'll be there for August. Let him know I'll see him on Monday."

He pulls my body back against his, and the hard chest I felt beneath my fingers is now pressed fully against my spine. He bands his arms around my waist, and all I can do is freeze.

"I'm trying to keep you safe, Winter." His words are hard and low, whispered urgently. "There are people who would revel in dancing in your blood just to see me hurt. Just to make me do what they want me to do. I'm trying to protect you. Protect August. Protect our love. Please, just be patient with me. I'm going to fix this, and we can continue our lives. Because I want you forever. You're it for me, Winter." He's breathing double time, and I feel like he's making up for my lack of inhalation and exhalation.

Because he just said he loves me.

He loves me. He wants to protect me.

This is toxic. This is possession. This is…

"There you go sounding like you're in the fucking mob again. Should I expect to find a horse head in my bed?" My words are firm and clear, but the resolve in them is lost when my voice trembles at the last few words.

"There is so much I want to tell you, but I can't right now. I will tell you soon, but I can't right now. But this situation with Blair?—"

I jerk when he says her name.

Blair, Blair, Blair. A perfect name for someone like Hunter Brigham to be married to.

"This engagement is completely fake. It's a means to an end. I can't share all the details. But just know that everything I do is for you. For you and August. I need you to wait for me." He runs a hand up and places it over my breast. Over my heart. I know he can feel it racing.

"I love you, Winter Leigh Vaughan."

I close my eyes at the declaration. It's everything I could have hoped for. And I feel so, so, so empty.

"You love me?" I whisper.

"Yes, I love you. I have loved you since I saw you on the floor of my home, protecting my son."

The quaking I feel radiating from my heart travels to my arms.

"If you love me…" I breathe in deeply. "Answer me this, Hunter. How can you fuck me, say you love me, and be promised to someone else?"

"Winter, it's not even like that." His voice is rough, strained.

"Even with everything you've said to me, will you still go through with this marriage if whatever you're waiting for doesn't pan out before next spring? Your wedding is right around the corner from what the tabloids say. Will you bring her into your home? Into your bed? And you want me to wait for you? Wait for you until when ? Wait for what? How long will I have to watch you with another woman?"

I'm choking. Sobbing. Trying to grapple back my composure, my upper hand. But I'm failing. I'm falling.

He pulls me in closer, nearly crushing me with his strength. His desperation.

"No, it's—goddamn it, Winter, it's complicated, but it's not at all what you think. I'm fucking this up, not explaining things right. Let's just sit down. Cool off and talk."

I put my hand over his as he continues to hold my heart.

For a moment, with our bodies silent in the moonlight and only a shaft of illumination coming from the bathroom, I let myself revel in the feeling and knowledge and truth of loving Hunter Brigham.

I soak it into my skin, let it encode into my DNA .

And then I pull away.

"I love you too, Hunter. I love you so much. But this is messy. Hurtful. I can't subscribe to this life. I need more. I need better than this."

I unlock the door, opening it. The security guard outside my door looks up from his cell phone at the movement.

"Winter, I won't accept this being the end of us." His voice is hoarse, but the look on his face would be terrifying if I didn't know him.

Do I know him?

I look away from his beautiful, stupid, lying face.

And even though tears blur my vision, I say, "Well, unfortunately for you, I will accept it."

I look away from him, still stubbornly holding the door open.

"I'll see August on Monday, but I think we should keep our interactions to a minimum."

I pull the door wider, and he moves through it, taking my heart with him.

I immediately shut the door when he clears the threshold, slamming the locks home.

I touch the lock one more time. Then again. Then again. Then again and again and again until I collapse on the floor, sobbing.

Kitty trots over to me.

I bury my face in his fur and wail.