Page 73 of A Beginner's Guide to Forever
“Excuse me,” I say, rising from my chair on unsteady legs. I head straight out the front door of the restaurant and into the frosty night, where I pull the frigid air deep into my lungs. I feel physical pain, like there’s a stabbing sensation in my chest. Dear God, is this a heart attack?
I reach into my back pocket and pull out my phone as I begin walking. Thankfully, Scarlet picks up after a couple of rings.
“Hey, lady,” she says.
“Scar . . .” My voice breaks.
“What’s wrong?” She can sense immediately that something happened.
My legs carry me the three blocks to the hotel while I recount the conversation at dinner. The topic that Vaughn brought up and was almost disregarded by the others as an afterthought ...
“What the hell am I doing here, Scar?”
“Oh, honey. Be gentle with yourself. Why don’t you just talk to him?”
“And say what, that my biological clock is ticking?” I huff, stabbing the button for the elevator. I remember how conversations like that went with Sean.
“Maybe not in those exact words,” Scarlet says soothingly but with a hint of humor.
By the time I get off the phone with Scarlet, I know what I have to do. I’m not even upset with Hart; I’m upset with myself. I knew allalong this couldn’t last. I shouldn’t have ever let things get this far. I feel much more for him than I should. And for what? I’m taking a huge risk being with him. It no longer feels worth it.
Hart bursts through the door a second later, holding my coat and purse. I didn’t even feel the cold on the walk back, though now I’m shivering. I wrap my arms around myself and meet his eyes.
“Alessia ...” His features are shattered. “What happened?”
“I don’t think I can do this.”
“Do what?” he asks, confused.
I gesture between us. “This. Us.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re Hartford Winthrop, and I’m ...”
“You’re what?”
“I’m ... too old for you.”
“Why don’t I get a say in that?” His tone is sharp, filled with venom.
“It just isn’t going anywhere, so what’s the point?” I walk to the bedroom.
Hart follows me, taking me by the shoulders until I’m facing him. “Why isn’t it going anywhere?”
“Because it can’t.” I grab my duffel bag from the closet and begin shoving my clothing inside.
“So you’re just going to bail?”
I grab my toiletry bag from the bathroom counter, zip it up, and push it into my duffel bag.
“For the first time”—he pauses, trying to gather his thoughts—“for the first time in my life, I’m ... forget it.”
“Say what you were going to say,” I murmur, glancing up at him.
“I’m actually happy.”
Silence hangs in the air between us.
