Page 174 of Holiday Hire

Concern fills her expression. She grabs my arm. "Dear, are you okay?"

"I may have eaten something bad. I just got sick. I'm going to go to bed for the rest of the day if that's okay?" I lie, although I've never felt more ill.

She puts her hand on my forehead. "You don't feel very hot. Do you have food poisoning?"

I nod. "I think so."

"You just got sick?"

I hate myself for lying to her. Ruby's another person who's been nothing but good to me. She's treated me like I'm one of her own kids, and it chokes me up.

I've missed having a mom, and as much as I try not to think about it, Ruby's been like one to me. It's been a long time since my own mother was mentally capable of being a mom, and I didn't realize how much I missed our relationship.

New tears roll down my cheeks. I swipe at them, but there are too many.

"Phoebe, tell me what's wrong," Ruby demands, putting her hand on my cheek.

"I'm just sick. I have to go," I say, brushing past her, unable to take it anymore.

I grab my coat when I reach the front door. I step outside, barreling across the yard, the chilly wind beating against my face.

Alexander steps onto the porch the minute I get to the door.

I freeze, unable to stop the tears.

"Phoebe, what's wrong?" he asks in alarm.

What's wrong? How can he even ask me that question?

Because I've meant nothing to him.

I was just a deal.

"I don't feel well. I'm going to bed for the rest of the night," I say, and push past him. I rush into my bedroom and lock the door.

He knocks. "Phoebe?"

"I don't feel good. Can you please just leave me alone?"

"Phoebe, let me in," he says, turning the doorknob, but it's securely locked.

"I just need to sleep," I call out, not wanting to discuss anything.

There's no point.

I'm in love with Alexander Cartwright, but he's not in love with me. I'm just fun and games for him, a reckless relationship that will end up doing nothing but hurting his kids. And I curse myself for ever thinking we could be anything more.

Maybe it's not in his genes to love anyone except his dead wife.

Perhaps I'm just not good enough, and he's looking for a woman who can offer more. What that is, I'm unsure.

Whatever the reasons, Alexander will never truly be mine. I can't continue doing the things we're doing, knowing this is going nowhere.

He says through the door, "Okay. I'll check on you later tonight and make sure you're okay."

I warn, "Don't. I'm going to sleep. Let me be." I put on my headphones to drown out any further attempts from him to talk to me.

I put on sad music, silently crying into my pillow, wishing things could go back to earlier today when we were painting my room. I glance at the beautiful yellow color that gave me so much joy, and now represents my numbered days in this house.

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