Page 16 of Commit

“You can choose. You seem to be good at choosing stuff on my behalf.”

Like choosing to end our relationship.

Her body stiffens, and she grabs the handle of her suitcase, heading for the door. “This isn’t going to work. I’m looking for another hotel.”

I’m brokenhearted and bitter, but I’m not a complete jerk.

“Sorry,” I say, stepping in front of her. “That was uncalled for. We can both stay here.”

“I don’t think we can.”

“Why?”

“You’re obviously upset with me. And…”—she glances away—“I think it would be best if we kept our distance from each other this weekend.”

I laugh, not because things are funny, but because I can’t believe how screwed up everything has become. “I’d love to know what I did that makes you not even want to be in the same vicinity as me.”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“Well, I must have done something.”

She shakes her head. “You didn’t. I told you. Things between us just aren’t going to work.”

“That’s it?”

She nods. “That’s it.”

I don’t know why I’m trying. It’s not like I’m going to get any answers from Remi. If she wasn’t willing to tell me two months ago what happened, why would she tell me now?

“So, as you can see,” she says, “it’s not a good idea for us to share the same suite and spend so much time together. I don’t want to get your hopes up.”

And there’s the pity look. The one I call ‘you poor thing.’ It goes like this: You poor thing. You’re still in love with me and are probably hoping that if we share the same suite, we’ll get back together.

Yep, the look conveys all of that.

And the worst part is, I feel all of that.

But I don’t need this. I don’t need Remi’s pity.

“I’m fine if we share the room.” I widen my stance, folding my arms across my chest. “You don’t have to worry. I know we’re over. Unless, of course, you’re worried that you’ll develop feelings for me again.”

Her head pulls back slightly. She clearly wasn’t expecting that.

“Why would I be worried? I’m the one that broke up with you?”

I smile, laying it on thick. “I think you’ve forgotten how charming I can be.”

Laughter puffs out of her mouth. “You’re not that charming.”

“Just keep telling yourself that.” My arms drop, and I take a step toward her. I should have stayed put, but I’m not smart. I’m entering enemy territory, placing myself in direct danger.

“I don’t need to tell myself that,” Remi says, stepping back.

“And why is that?” I walk forward again. I don’t mean to. It just happens.

“This might be hard for you to hear.” Her shoulders roll back, and her chin lifts. “But I’m not attracted to you.”

My eyes pull together as I take in what she said.

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