Page 115 of A Bossy Roommate

What had happened in my absence to make her flee without saying a word?

Has she seriously made up her mind about us?

I shouldn’t have waited to tell her how I feel—instead, I should have made sure there was no fucking doubt in her mind that she was my woman. My heart lodges in my throat, and I instinctively straighten up.

I rush out and knock at Hattie’s door.

“Where’s Eden?” I ask, noticing her lingering just beyond the cracked door, but it swings wide immediately.

“She left about twenty minutes ago. With all her belongings in tow, by the looks of things.”

“Did she tell you where she was going?”

“I’m afraid she didn’t, love. She seemed pretty upset. It’s quite possible she has returned home to her sister’s, I presume? Gosh, what’s happ?—”

I’m already running down the stairs, realizing that the damn parcel from the bakery is still in my hands. What thefuck, Eden?

Her car is gone.

I storm to my bike. Before hopping on, I stuff the cupcake box in the saddlebag. I kick down. Damn cupcakes. If I hadn’t made a detour to get them, I wouldn’t have missed her.

I haul ass.

Has she really fucking gone back to Maine?

It’s cloudy, and as if to mock me, it starts raining. Heavily. Thick drops of rain are soaking through my jacket and jeans as I race at full throttle.

I’m facing a long and arduous drive, made even more challenging by the fucking rain.

After covering numerous miles, I drive past the motel we’d stayed at when we’d first met. My gut churns at the memory.

I waste no time thinking back, my focus returning to spotting a small blue car on the road ahead of me.

Maine: 451 miles.

A part of me knows how foolish it is to search for a blue car in a metropolis like New York, but the thought of never seeing Eden again makes me lose all sense of reason. I have to make her understand that she and I belong together.

With the onset of night, the task grows steadily harder.

32

EDEN

Ihave to stop because it starts raining too heavily.

Kiki’s yet-to-be-fixed windshield wipers are like, “Nope, not today!” When it gets worse, I stop at the first motel I come to. It’sourmotel. The one Carter and I had made love in the day we met. It’s late, and I know I can’t drive through the night to Maine, let alone a rainy one.

Sure, there are a few other motels around, but I’m familiar with this one, so it makes it a no-brainer for me to pull into their parking space. But if I’m perfectly honest with myself, not only is it the familiarity, it’s also the need to catch my breath, thenecessityto stop.

Truth is, driving back to Maine is the last thing I want to do.

Tears stain my cheeks, and more fill my eyes.

Here I am, looking at the motel bed.

Our motel bed.

The memory of his eyes, how he’d looked at me, makes my heart ache. Bittersweet, the scene plays vividly in my mind. His gaze had been fixed upon me with such intensity. The emotions overwhelmed me as I remembered the warmth of his embraceon that bed, how tightly he’d held me, pressed closely against his body, providing warmth and relieving my pain.

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