Page 46 of One Billion Reasons

“Try to solve the world’s problems all on your own,” he retorts. I hear a cry of surprise over the line. “I have to go. I think Cynthia actually did catch something. Text me.”

I let my head hang and shut my eyes. I think back to every time I wanted to grab Lane and pull her against my chest. Every time I wished Liam would leave for just five minutes when we were at the beach so I could ogle her ass in her bathing suit. Every time she looked at me and there was heat in her gaze. Why shouldn’t I keep this going? She wants it. I want it. She’d murder me if she knew my vow to Liam was ringing in my head. Protect her, Miles.

She’s a grown woman. You can’t protect her from her choices. And what if her choice is another milquetoast man with soft hands and a small dick who doesn’t care about her pleasure in bed? I clench my fist. She deserves more. And you’ll be the one to give it to her?

No. Fuck. I can’t. I’ll lose her again, and I’ll lose Liam, too. Possibly forever.

And if I don’t want to lose her, I better start by apologizing for my shitty behavior tonight.

22

Lane

I’ve only stayed in fancy hotels when clients are paying, but this hotel might be the best one of all. The shower is massive, with three showerheads and a bench, and all the towels are sinfully fluffy. I sit on the bench under the hot spray and soap with the scented bodywash they’ve supplied. I’m sore from sleeping on that godforsaken couch, which I’m sure is perfectly comfortable for lounging but shit for sleeping. I shut my eyes and lean back against the wall. I’m so tired. I just want to go back to sleep.

The awfulness of last night invades my thoughts. Me practically begging Miles for sex. His rejection. A hard lump forms in my throat. I don’t know if I can see him today.

I step out of the shower and dry off, then wrap myself in a cloudlike robe. As I’m pulling out the hair dryer, a knock sounds on the outer door. I wait for Miles to answer, but he doesn’t respond. When I peek into his room, I see a hastily made but empty bed.

I open the door to two hotel employees and a bell cart laden with bags. “Miss Overton? We have a delivery for you.”

“I didn’t order anything.” I step aside to let them in.

“Sorry. We don’t have any details. We were just told to bring these to your room. Sign here, please.” The woman is brusque but polite, clearly wanting to get out of here as quickly as possible.

I sign, somewhat dazed, and take the envelope they pass me. The bags are pale purple with black satin ribbons, each tied in a huge, looping bow. When they’re all assembled, they take up an entire corner of the room, like Christmas presents in a movie where the family pays for the luxury store to gift wrap everything. I sink onto the floor and open the card.

Miles’s slashing handwriting carries across the page.

Lane,

Like they have been many times over the past decade, my words last night were unforgivable. And I hope that once again, you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I’m sorry for ruining your dress. If I were a weaker man, I’d make a joke about how you look better out of it.

Yours always,

Miles

My pulse speeds. Yours always. Why is he so wonderful and so damned confusing?

I dip my hands into the tissue-filled interior of the first bag and pull out a garment bag. The next bag has another. I unzip one and find a red dress of heavy silk. I trace one finger over the delicate folds along one shoulder, afraid even the roughness of my skin will damage the material. I peek at the tag. Valentino. Wow. It’s lovely, but it probably won’t fit.

By the time I’ve unwrapped everything, it appears Miles has bought half of Bergdorf’s. There are jeans and T-shirts, a sweatshirt with “Montauk” across it in block letters, and endless gowns. More gowns than I could ever wear. Matching shoes. Evening bags. I sit back on my heels, stunned. I don’t understand why Miles is so hot and cold, but buying me something I couldn’t buy for myself? That’s so like him.

At his heart, Miles is a protector. This is his version of rescuing Liam from a crash or carrying me down a mountain. Something he does without thinking because his money is meant to be spent and nothing matters more than family.

Family. Do I want to be family? Or do I want to be more? My body says more, but my heart… Maybe Miles is right. If we sleep together, it could ruin everything. I refuse to ask for more than he can give. I’m done begging. I stand and pull tags off the sweatshirt and jeans. For years, I asked more of men than they were willing to give. I’m not doing that anymore. And I’m not making an exception for Miles Becker.

* * *

Sadly, I don’t get to wear the new clothes for very long, because the women are going to a spa day in the underground spa at the hotel. While I’m not excited about hanging out with strangers, I am looking forward to a day of relaxation. And maybe some networking? My business plan means I need to market myself. Even if these women won’t buy a photo, their friends might.

I head into the bowels of the hotel to change. It’s hushed and scented with herbs down here. Damp and warm. The other women are chatting and laughing in their robes when I exit the dressing room. I smooth my palms down the front of my robe, looking for a friendly face. Catherine waves at me from the corner, and I sink gratefully onto the couch next to her.

“Hey there. I’m glad to see you.” She gives me a genuine smile, and I smile back. “How are you enjoying the wedding?”

“It’s um, lovely. I’ve been enjoying the property. I want to get out and take some photos tomorrow morning.”

“Of the ocean? It’s magical here.”

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