Page 195 of Nanny and the Beast

Even after hearing the hurtful things he said, I still miss him. I can’t help it.

“If something’s meant for you, no force in this universe can keep it away from you,” she says. “Even if you turn your back on it, it will come back to you.”

Maybe that’s what I should do. Instead of letting myself go through heartbreak over and over again, I should walk away.

I wished on every star for him.

But that’s all over now.

I should learn to accept that even though it was the happiest I felt in a long time, it just wasn’t in the stars.

I waituntil everyone falls asleep.

When the clock strikes midnight, I step outside my room.

I walk to the room opposite mine and try to gather the courage to knock.I rehearsed the moment a hundred times in my head, but now that I’m actually here, I can’t get myself to do it.

I lift my hand.

“I know you’re out there,” he calls out. “Please go back to your room.”

I should say something, but the words don’t leave my lips. He sounds bored, like I’m nothing more than a nuisance in his life.

I hear heavy footsteps crossing the room. I remain frozen as the door swings open.

“It’s you,” he says.

There’s surprise and disappointment in his eyes.

“Who did you think it was?” I ask, blinking at him.

“What do you want?” he asks.

“I needed to speak with you about something,” I say.

He crosses his arms and leans his shoulder against the doorframe. I don’t think he’s aware of how devastatingly handsome he looks right now. His eyes are blank, devoid of emotion as they assess me.

He raises his eyebrows.

I lower my eyes.

“I think it’s time for me to leave,” I say.

“Why?” he asks.

I look up at him. “For obvious reasons.”

“I want to hear them,” he says.

He can’t be serious right now.

My eyes drift over his shoulder. His room is in a state of disarray. The blankets are all messed up, like he’s been tossing and turning in his sleep. Empty wine bottles litter his desk, and there’s clutter everywhere. I’ve never seen his room like this before.

I’ve never seenhimlike this, either.

There are hollows under his cheekbones, like he’s too heartbroken to eat. I berate myself for even having that thought.

This man doesn’t care about me. He never did, no matter how much I want to believe otherwise.

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