Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

DARCY

I don’t quite remember how or when I made it into bed back at the hotel with Maya lying right beside me, but somehow it happened, because when I wake up the next morning, I’m surrounded by the resort’s tacky wallpaper and the scent of Maya’s shampoo. I’d think that everything that happened last night was just a bad dream, but when I look over at Maya, I can see the bandage on her forehead, blood just beginning to become visible as it soaks through the cotton.

I’m startled by the sound of a knock at the door, and it occurs to me that that’s what woke me up in the first place.

I let out a heavy sigh.

It’s going to be Cody, of course. Here to take back his sister because, obviously, no one but him is capable of caring for her, and one little argument between the two of them won’t change that.

I slide out of bed, maneuvering carefully not to wake up Maya, and take my sweet time crossing the room. I open the door without double-checking that it is, in fact, Cody. But then I am taken aback. No. More than that. I’m reeling. Spiraling. Shrinking into myself. Sick enough to nearly throw up right here and now.

No. No no no no no no no.

The person at the door is most definitely not Cody.

How can this be?

“Milo.” The word is choked, strangled, like poison begging to be spit out. I hear a strange whomp-whomping noise in my head. The edges of my vision have gone blurry. It’s as though I’m the one concussed, not Maya.

Fuck—he’s real. Milo is real . And he’s here in front of me. He’s as real as the fear bubbling up from my stomach into my chest. Despicably, he’s as handsome as ever, as utterly deceiving as ever, with the biggest smile on his beautiful face.

“Hey, beautiful.”

No.

This is not happening.

“What are you doing here?” I croak. Ugh . What a dumb question. Of course I know, good and well, exactly what he’s doing here.

Milo is here to win me back.

He’s here to scare me into submission. And there’s no one to stop him. He’s either going to win, or there is about to be a knock-down, drag-out fight.

“I wanted to see you!” Milo says the words like they’re so easy, so casual. It’s as if I didn’t tell him that I hope he dies the last time I saw him. “And this is our honeymoon, isn’t it? I helped pay for it. I think I have every right to be here, don’t you?”

I hate him. I really hate him. How dare he? After everything he’s done, all of the pain and grief he’s caused, how dare he show up here and tell me he’s entitled to my company?

“Go away, Milo. I actually happen to think you have zero business being here.”

Milo’s face falls, the happy facade he’s pasted on fading for just a split second before it’s right back where it was. Only now, it is nowhere near genuine—how strained it looks is actually kind of... scary.

“Oh, come on, Darcy,” he chastises in a faux-friendly tone. “Don’t be like that. I know you’re still mad, but I’m trying to fix things here. I thought that’s what you wanted. For me to fix everything.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? We’re past fixing things, Milo!” I scream-whisper, hoping beyond all hope that Maya doesn’t wake up and insert herself into this already awful situation. “What I want is for you to leave me alone! Please !” The strength depletes from my body. My dignity is gone. All that I have left is the idle hope that maybe—just maybe—he’ll leave if I beg hard enough. “I can’t do this anymore, Milo. I mean it. Please, just leave. No matter what you do, you won’t get me back. I’m done. And you’re just going to make it harder by doing... whatever this is.”

In an instant, Milo lets his fake smile completely disappear, and there’s something close to anger in his eyes. If it were anyone else, I might be afraid. But this is Milo. Milo is a raging person, but he’s also harmless—in the physical sense. The only damage he will ever inflict on me is emotional. But God is he good at inflicting emotional damage. It kind of makes up for his lack of a backbone when it comes to confrontation.

His tone is no longer pleasant. “Help me out here, Darcy, because I don’t understand. You love me. I know you do. And I’m trying to change. No, I have changed. I changed for you. I know I’ve made mistakes, but?—”

“There’s no ‘but!’” I exclaim in exasperation. “The things you did can’t be fixed, and you can’t change them with some self-reflection. You broke my heart, Milo. And I will never let you anywhere near it again. You had your chance, and you blew it. And now please , just leave me alone. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want you to call me. I just want to forget that you ever existed.”

“You don’t think that’s a little harsh?”

I swear I see some form of actual hurt etched into the lines of his face. I never knew he was capable of hurting. Of being angry, sure. Of being happy, absolutely. But hurt? In utter despair over heartbreak? Never in a million years would I have guessed that Milo could experience it. And even more so, experience it because of me .

“No, I don’t,” I say, keeping my tone even. I want to be civil. “And you don’t either, do you? You know what you did. You know that your cheating wasn’t a mistake or a one-time thing. You were bored in our relationship, so you sought excitement with someone else. Someone you work with. How could I ever sleep next to you knowing that? It’s the worst kind of humiliation, Milo.”

“It wasn’t like that, Darcy. It was never serious, it’s over with her. Please. You know how I am. I just?—”

“You what?” I interrupt, getting angry all over again. “What could you possibly say to justify what you did?”

“Dammit, Darcy!” he explodes. “I messed up! I know that! I messed up as badly as a person can possibly mess up, but I love you! I love you more than anything! Please just give me a chance to fix it!”

I stare at Milo, a broken, sad man whose lies have become so pungent that even he is beginning to believe them. And I think that might be even more dangerous than his former state of weaponized incompetence.

“No,” I say simply. “It’s done. We’re over. And if you won’t leave, that’s fine. I will.”

With shaking hands, I grab my coat from the coat rack and slip on my shoes, pulling the door shut behind me and walking right past Milo without so much as sparing him a second glance. I can hear him trailing closely behind me, but I pointedly ignore him. If he doesn’t exist to me, maybe he’ll finally go away.

But I guess I’m just not that lucky.

“Darcy, stop!” he calls after me. “Please, just talk to me about this! We can fix it!”

I don’t dignify that with a response. I pick up my pace, bypassing the elevators in a split-second reasoning that maybe I can get away quicker on the stairs. I speed walk to the stairwell and take the steps two at a time. He’s right behind me, begging me to stop. For every step I take, he’s taking two.

“For God’s sake, Darcy, just stop!” he yells, his booming voice echoing in the stairwell. I’m sure half of the hotel can hear him. How humiliating.

“I don’t want to talk to you!” I yell back. “I don’t want to see you. I don’t even want to breathe the same air as you, Milo. Go away!”

He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t stop chasing after me either.

I slam through the first-floor door and speed walk through the lobby with Milo hot on my trail. I can feel dozens of eyes on me, but I can’t bring myself to care. I just need to get away from Milo.

I know what my only option is, and I also know that it’s going to suck. Majorly. But I have to do what I have to do.

So, the snow it is.

I leave the hotel and hurry into the freshly fallen snow. Luckily, it isn’t actively snowing anymore, at least for the moment, but it’s breathtakingly cold, and I can feel my extremities immediately begin to go numb.

Just get away from him. Escape. Don’t let him catch you.

The thought of Milo’s hands on me fuels my desire to escape. I charge forward and use all of my strength to run. I run and I run and I run. By the time I stop, I can’t see anyone around me, and my lungs ache as I gasp for air.

And when I turn around, Milo is gone.

I got away.

Now my only issue is that I have no idea where I am.

How do I get into these situations?