Page 74 of My Ruthless Husband

I lean forward gripping the desk with desperation. “Can you at least inform him that I-I am here. My name is River Gibson.”

“Mr. Montgomery is not available at the moment, but I will be sure to inform him of your presence as soon as he returns.”

I thank her then walk over and sink into a quiet corner of the lobby, my eyes locked on the entrance.

The longer I wait, the worse my anxiety gets, making it hard to breathe. What am I going to say to him? I didn’t think this through. I came here on a whim. A stupid, impulsive decision.

I’m just a friend. He doesn’t owe me anything. I don’t even know how to explain why I’m here without sounding like a crazy person.

He’s going to look at me like I’m out of my mind. And then he’ll push me away. I’ll lose him. But he’s not mine to lose.

I imagine him walking through the door and try to think of what to say. But nothing that comes to mind sounds rational. Every sentence I try to form only makes it worse.

My hands shake as I try to calm myself, but the panic won’t stop.

When three hours pass, I can’t help but reach for my phone. My trembling fingers dial his number, and my heart races in hope, but it dwindles when he doesn’t answer.

I call him again and again, but he doesn’t respond. And the silence on his end suffocates my already dying spirit.

Hours melt away like the tears that stream down my cheeks. Morning turns to noon, and noon turns to evening, and still, I sit in the lobby. My body weakens and my eyes dry up but my will remains unbroken.

I don’t remember the last time I ate anything but the emptiness in my stomach is overshadowed by the pain in my heart.

And then, someone places a small bottle of water and a pack of biscuits near me. I glance up, my eyes connecting with the receptionist from earlier. She offers a small smile.

I manage a shaky smile in her direction, offering a silent thank you. I reach for the bottle with shaky hands, the cap slipping slightly as I try to open it. I take a sip, the cool liquid easing the dryness in my throat. I glance at the biscuits, but my stomach churns at the thought of eating.

She leaves as quickly as she came and I continue to wait.

An hour later, two men in security uniforms walk up to me.

“Excuse me, miss,” one of them says. “We noticed you’ve been here for a while. Is everything okay?”

My voice trembles as I reply, “I’m just waiting for someone. I’ll be leaving soon, I promise.”

“I understand, ma’am. But it might be more comfortable for you to wait in the restaurant or return at a later time.”

“No, I-I can’t leave,” I stammer, as I clutch the seat. “I need to wait here. I’m— I’m fine, really. I’ll be okay.”

The man’s expression softens, but there’s no mistaking the firmness in his voice when he speaks. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you can’t stay here any longer. We’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“Please, just a little longer,” I plead.

But the security guard doesn’t relent. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, ma’am.”

I hug the purse to my chest and push to my feet, my unsteady legs protesting after hours of sitting. As I rise, a sudden wave of dizziness engulfs me, and my vision blurs. I grip the edge of the chair to steady myself.

I take a deep breath, waiting for the dizziness to pass. Slowly, the spinning fades, and my vision clears, though my body still feels heavy with exhaustion. I gather what little strength I have left and push myself to walk toward the exit.

Swaying a bit, I spot a restaurant around the corner. But before heading there, I lean against the wall of a building. My head lolls back as I close my aching eyes, taking in deep, labored breaths in an attempt to regain my strength. I wrap my bare arms around my middle, shivering.

I tilt my head to glance at the restaurant. My stomach churns with hunger, and I can’t ignore the hollow pain gnawing at my insides. I feel so weak and tired, if I don’t go in there, I’m afraid I’ll collapse right here.

Inhaling deeply, I straighten again, wincing when my feet protests.

I somehow trudge my way to the restaurant and push open the door.

I’m met with the posh interior with soft lighting and sophisticated atmosphere. I pause for a brief moment, the tantalizing aroma of food enveloping me. The scent alone is enough to send my stomach into painful contractions.

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