Page 60 of Daddy's Princess

I have to.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks, clearly confused.

I wave my hand between the two of us. “This. Whatever this is. I can’t do it. We’re over.”

Oliver looks like I smacked him. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do. We’re not good for each other.”

“That’s bullshit. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I couldn’t have dreamed up a more perfect woman for me.” He’s so earnest in his words that I feel them to my very core. He truly believes I’m perfect. God, how wrong he is. I’m broken. Damaged in more ways than even I realized.

“You hardly know me.” He takes a step closer to me, and I take a step back. He notes my retreat and raises his hands in surrender, stopping his forward movement.

“I know that you’re a fantastic artist. You’re kind and intelligent. You’re a hard worker and have a stubborn streak a mile wide. You’re also the perfect submissive for me. A sweet and sassy with a bit of a bratty streak. Not to mention how fucking gorgeous you are. I’m knocked breathless every time I lay eyes on you.”

I can tell he means every single word, and I have no idea how to respond. It’s hands down the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. I try to harden my heart against his honest appraisal of me, but it’s impossible. I love Oliver, and his ability to speak truthfully and with such surety is one of the things I love about him.

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t do this. You need to leave.”

“Sugar, don’t do this—”

“Please, Oliver, just go. Please,” I beg.

“Okay, babygirl,” I flinch at the endearment. The part of me that loves hearing those two little words cries out for her daddy, wanting to curl up in his lap for comfort. I console that part of myself with a reminder of why this needs to be done. “I’ll go. For now, but know that I’m not giving up on us.”

As soon as the door is closed behind him, I dissolve into tears. I stumble into my bedroom and curl up in the middle of the bed, hiding with my pain under the covers. Candace comes home a little later, but I send her away, not wanting to talk about what happened between Oliver and me. I’m just too damned raw right now.

I call into work both Wednesday and Thursday. I barely get out of bed. The pain from my broken heart fills every cell in my body to the point where I can’t function.

Oliver texted me Wednesday morning to check on me because I wasn’t at the office, which brought on a crying jag that lasted hours. My mom started calling Wednesday evening, I ignored her to the point where Thursday morning she called over and over again until I just turned my phone off. I can’t handle a call from her right now. Not when I’m already so low.

Candace has done everything to try to tempt me out of bed. She even baked brownies, hoping the lure of sweet chocolatey goodness would be enough to tempt me out of bed. It wasn’t. I’m not hungry. If it weren’t for Candace threatening to call Andre, I wouldn’t have eaten anything.

I roll over and face the window. The sun is just starting to rise for the day, which means it’s Friday. It’s been two whole days without Oliver, and it’s not getting any easier. It’s supposed to get easier, isn’t it? I’m ready for the easier any time now.

My bedroom door opens, and I pull the covers over my head, hiding from the pitying looks I know wait for me. I just want to be alone. “Candace, not now, please.”

The blankets are ripped off my body, and I squeal as cold air steals over me. “Sorry, sweetheart. Candace isn’t here.” Andre crosses his arms over his big chest and gives me a hard look. “Time to get up. You’ve got work in an hour.”

I reach for my blankets, wanting my warm cocoon of sadness back. I don’t like the stark, cold reality that is one of my two best friends standing over me with a give-no-shits stare that says I will be getting out of bed today whether I like it or not.

Definitely a not.

“Candace called you?” I whine.

Andre shakes his head. “No, Oliver called.”

“He did?”

“Of course, he did.” Andre rolls his eyes and shakes his head again. “Sweetheart, he’s worried about you.”

His words warm some of the chill that I haven’t been able to chase from my bones since I stepped out of Oliver’s embrace two days ago. “Well, he shouldn’t be. It’s not his job to worry about me.”

“Don’t be stupid. Oliver’s a dominant, and regardless of whatever little spat you guys are having right now, you’re still his sub.”

“Didn’t he tell you that we broke up? We’re over, which means it’s not his job to worry about me anymore.” Knowing that I’ll never be Oliver’s again is like salt in an open wound. No matter how many times I try to convince myself it’s for the best, it doesn’t work.

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