Page 75 of The Billionaire I Left Behind

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It’s been two days since she left. Forty-eight hours. Two thousand, eight hundred, and eighty minutes. And every single one has been horrible.

I can’t think straight. Can’t focus. Every time I close my eyes, I see her walking out that door, hear the finality of it slamming behind her. I wake up expecting to hear her moving around the house, brewing coffee, humming under her breath. But there’s nothing. Just silence. The house feels wrong without her.

Buddy keeps pacing the living room, ears twitching at every little noise, waiting for her to come back. He whines by the door sometimes, as if he thinks she’s just running late. I get it, because I’ve been doing the same thing.

I thought maybe, just maybe she just needed time to cool off … that I’d wake up, and she’d be back, and we’d talk this through like we should’ve in the first place.

But she’s not coming back. Not unless I do something.

I slam my hands against the kitchen counter, jaw clenched, frustration boiling in my veins. I messed up. Not by paying off her debts, that was never about pity. I’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant taking even a fraction of the weight off her shoulders.

No, my mistake was not telling her. My mistake was letting my fear, fear of losing her, fear of wanting too much get in the way of the truth.

And now? Now she thinks she meant nothing to me. That the past few weeks were some kind of favor. I let her believe I didn’t love her. And that?

A knock at the door yanks me out of my thoughts. I don’t have the patience for company, but when I swing the door open and see Nate standing there, smug, arms crossed. I let out a heavy breath and step aside to let him in.

“Figured you’d be sulking,” he says, dropping onto the couch like he owns the place. “Looks like I was right.”

I scowl and growl. “What do you want?”

He shrugs. “Just checking in. You know, since you look like you've been hit by a truck.

Liam says you haven't been answering your calls.”

I roll my eyes, moving to the fridge and grabbing a beer. I pop the cap, but it just sits in my hand, untouched.

Nate watches me for a beat, then leans forward. “So? You gonna tell me what's up with you?”

I exhale sharply, raking a hand through my hair. “She thought I’ve been acting different with her because I pity her, and that my feelings aren't genuine…” My voice trails off.

Nate whistles low. “Oh no.”

“Yeah.” I take a slow sip, the beer bitter on my tongue. “She wouldn’t even let me explain. Just packed her bags and left.”

“And you let her?”

I blink, frowning. “What on earth was I supposed to do? She wouldn’t listen.” Nate shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “Man. You really don’t get it, do you?”

My jaw clenches. “Get what?”

He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You let her walk away. Again.”

I stiffen. “You didn’t fight for her before,” Nate continues. “And look where it got you. You let your fear and your pride get in the way. And guess what? You’re doing the same thing now.”

My grip tightens around the bottle. “That’s not…”

“You love her.” His voice is steady, certain. “So why on earth are you sitting here instead of proving it to her?”

I don’t answer. I can’t. Because I know he’s right.

I scrub a hand down my face, exhaling hard. “She’s convinced I don’t care. That everything I did was just to make myself feel better.”

“Then make her believe otherwise.” I glance at him. He shrugs. “You want her back? Prove it.”

The words settle deep in my chest, pushing past the doubt, past the fear that’s been gnawing at me for years. I do love her. And I’ll be darned if I lose her again. I set the beer down with a thud and push off the counter. “I need to fix this.”

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