Page 115 of The Cuddle Clause
She disappeared down the hall, her orthopedic sandals slapping against the floor. I closed the door, the latch clicking into place with a finality that made my stomach ache.
Roman might lose his home.
I already had.
I took one last look around the apartment—at the empty coffee mug on the counter, at the throw blanket he always said smelled like me, at the couch where we’d played truth or dare like teenagers.
Closing my last suitcase, I picked up my keys and carried my bags to the car. After stowing them in my trunk, I slid into the driver’s seat.
I wasn’t running, but I also couldn’t keep standing still, hoping he’d choose me.
Because maybe he already had chosen.
It just hadn’t been me.
Chapter 31
Roman
The driveto the mansion had been filled with small talk. Lucien led the conversation while I sat nervously next to the girl I’d fallen in love with many years ago. By the time we pulled through the gates, I wanted to crawl out of my skin. What the hell was I doing here?
Lucien led the way, telling us to follow him to someplace where Willow and I could catch up.
I trailed after him, my hands buried deep in my jacket pockets, my boots thudding across the tile like a countdown I didn’t ask to start.
I didn’t know why I agreed to this.
Actually, that wasn’t true. I knew exactly why.
Because Lucien asked. Which really meant Lucien demanded, cloaked in casual language and an arched brow that dared you to say no. Lucien never needed to yell. He had a way of making you feel like saying no would be a personal betrayal, one that would ripple out and disappoint an entire legacy of wolves and ancestors and whatever else he liked to invoke.
So, I was walking willingly into a setup I didn’t want, for a future I hadn’t agreed to.
All because I hadn’t learned how to stop being the version of myself that always tried to please him. And because, on some level, I still thought that cooperating could buy me control. If I gave him this performance, this conversation, this outdated fairy tale about fated love… I could keep the rest of my life intact. The part that mattered.
The part that looked like Maggie.
God, Maggie.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face. Not the one she wore when she laughed at my dumb jokes or when she beat me at movie trivia. No, the other one. The one she wore when she told me she’d give me privacy. The one she wore when I walked away. Quiet. Wounded. Done.
I had walked out of the apartment without saying a damn thing to her. Because I didn’t know how to stay without begging.
Because I didn’t know if she still wanted me there.
Lucien opened a set of double doors and gestured inside. I hesitated long enough to remind myself that this wasn’t real. That whatever fantasy he had planned didn’t belong to me anymore.
Willow didn’t belong to me anymore. That door had closed years ago, and I had no interest in walking back through it now.
He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Make a smart decision, Roman. This is a good match. One the pack will respect. We’re talking about legacy here. Power. Restoration.”
His words didn’t move me. They didn’t land. Just noise in a hallway I didn’t want to be standing in.
I nodded once, just to get him to shut up. He walked away without looking back.
I stepped into the parlor.
Willow followed close behind and stood near the fireplace, the light pouring in through the windows framing her silhouette. Her golden-brown hair was braided down her back, and hersilver-blue dress shimmered when she moved. She looked like the memory of a girl I used to know.
