Page 26 of Heartfelt Goals

“Sometimes I don’t understand myself either,” he muttered under his breath obviously counting on her not hearing it as he visibly braced himself before looking at her. “We are – but we aren’t – and it’s more of a visual thing than an explanation.”

“Okay. Show me.”

“How about I show you the library first?”

“How about we look at the bedroom arrangements?”

“Library. Gotcha…” Dustin replied, ignoring her completely, and she hesitated.

Obviously, something was wrong with the bedroom arrangements, and he was trying to hide it. She did an about-face, moving to search for the bedroom, to see what was going on, what he was hiding.

“Wait!” he hissed, racing after her, but that only pushed her to look more quickly. A bathroom, a room full of shelves, a massive window overlooking the river, and boxes upon boxes stacked nearby… the library he’d promised her.

She pushed past him, felt him grab her arms, before she jerked away frantically, her heart thrumming in her chest as she spotted the other doorway. So, the condo had not only split levels but a split living arrangement?

That meant privacy… and her heart clenched. Could he have had a change of heart?

As she reached for the door, Laurel could hear Dustin right behind her, his breath warm and uneven, his voice hushed but urgent. His fingertips brushed her elbow, sending a shiver up her spine—not from pleasure, but from the weight of the moment pressing down on her.

"Look, I messed up, and?—"

"Messed up how?" she cut in, her voice flat, guarded. She didn’t turn to face him. Didn’t dare. The doorknob was cool beneath her palm, a lifeline keeping her steady as she twisted it open.

"Laurel…"

Something in his tone—pleading, uncertain—made her pause, but only for a second. "What is it? What’s the—" She stopped abruptly, the breath stalling in her throat as her hand slipped limply from the knob.

Oh.

Her stomach plummeted as her gaze locked onto the scene before her. It would have been almost laughable if it didn’t hurt so much—two twin beds, neatly made, separated by a nightstand like a wall, a physical barrier between them that didn’t need words to be understood.

A lump formed in her throat, thick and impossible to swallow.It wasn’t just a sleeping arrangement. It was a statement.

A confirmation.

This marriage was a sham. And now, there wasn’t a shred of doubt left. Seeing those two beds, he might as well have screamed it from the rooftops over the city.

Her vision blurred as realization crashed over her like a wave, relentless and unyielding. There was no room for hope anymore. Not even a sliver. This was their reality—two people bound by duty, obligation, or whatever thread-thin excuse had tied them together, but never by love, never by warmth. Never by anythingreal.

"Laurel, I think we should talk."

Her body stiffened. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the beds, from the space between them that might as well have been miles wide. Her voice came out hoarse, almost foreign to her own ears. "I don’t think that’s necessary."

Because what was left to say?

She saw it now, clear as day—this wasn’t a home, wasn’t a partnership. It was a polite arrangement, nothing more. No rolling over in the night to feel the steady rhythm of his breath. No accidental brushes of fingers under the sheets. No sleepy, tangled limbs in the morning. No quiet laughter or whispered confessions in the dark.

Nothing.

Just two people playing house, living as cordial strangers with nothing but cold space between them.

Dustin exhaled sharply, his voice a raw whisper behind her. "Laurel… please."

There was something in his tone—something jagged, pained. But it didn’t matter. The rejection wrapped itself around herheart, squeezing, suffocating. The hurt was too big, too loud, too real to ignore.

She wouldn’t beg for a place beside him.

Wouldn’t plead for scraps of affection from a man who had already made his choice. So she stayed quiet, staring at those twin beds, her heart fracturing in silence, needing space and a place to mourn the death of her crush, her feelings, because obviously the line was drawn and a little hard to ignore.

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