“I know,” I moan.
Christian looks at me, unsure. “You know what?”
“I can’t marry Henry,” I say plainly.
“Are you serious?” he asks, as if expecting me to suddenly change my mind.
I nod. Before I can say a word, he scoops me up and spins me around, holding me tightly. It feels like he might never let me go, and deep down, I’m fine with that.
“Wait, please,” I plead. He stops spinning, loosens his grasp, and looks at me.
“We have to stop this for now, “ I explain. With those words he releases me, and steps back. “Wait, just listen. I care for Henry a lot, and the last thing I want to do is to disrespect him any more than I already have. Let me go home and tell him we’re over. I’ll do the fashion show, and then we can figure out whatever this is between us.”
“Whatever you think’s best. God, Paige, I love you so much.”
“I love you, too,” I say softly, finally allowing myself to admit it.
ALL I’VE BEEN able to think about since leaving Christian’s half-built home in the woods is how on Earth I’m going to tell Henry that we’re over. When I tell Emmie what happened, she does her best not to explode with excitement, but it’s obvious she approves of this choice much more than my original one of marrying Henry.
She, of course, suggests the straight and honest approach. But I think about that repeatedly, and it seems absurd to tell him I love him, but I love someone else more, and that’s why I can’t marry him. It isn’t like I can tell Henry I don’t love him, because damn it, I do. That’s why this is hurting so much.
On the plane ride I keep practicing the speech in my head. I don’t tell him I’m coming home a day early. Somehow I think the element of surprise might work better, but it isn’t making the conversation I’m about to have any easier. On the cab ride to our home, my thoughts shift to the logistics of the break up.
Henry is a practical guy. He works with numbers day in and day out, and I’m certain after the initial shock of the break up, these will be the questions that will arise. I don’t know what this new phase of my life will look like though. I’m about to have a runway show, and what if I sell my line to a retailer?
Will Christian want to come to New York? His niece is in Texas. The home he’s building for his future family is in Texas. He’s putting down roots there. Does that mean I will have to be the one to move? But wait—don’t I have roots, too? I might not have family who I’m willing to even speak to in New York, but that’s where I was born and raised. It’s where I’ve built my life.
I pay the taxi driver and pull my single carry-on bag from the back seat. Glancing up at the incredibly tall building, I wonder what Henry might be doing at that exact moment. Will I surprise him in the shower? Oh my God, what if he’s naked? I am still insanely attracted to Henry. What would happen? I need to stop thinking about such things.
I express my greetings to the doorman, who is elated to see I’ve returned and tells me he hopes Mr. Wallace is feeling better. The comment seems odd, but I dismiss it and make my way inside and up the elevator.
When you’re marrying one of the wealthiest men in the building, it’s quite amazing how many people know you. Between the lobby and our apartment, I must run into half a dozen neighbors who want to discuss my recent travels. The problem is, all I want is to be home and get this conversation over with. I’m ready to get off this roller coaster.
At last I’m here, staring at the big red door. On the other side will be Henry. On the other side will be the end to the life I’ve built with an incredible man. I close my eyes and tell myself, You’re doing the right thing. You love Christian. You can’t keep pretending.
I slide my key into the lock and turn; I open the door and step inside. The place is dark, the curtains are drawn, and there’s no sound of running water. He isn’t in the shower. I breathe a sigh of relief and set my bag down, closing the door behind me. “Henry?”
There’s no answer. Maybe I missed him.
Moving into the dark hallway that leads to our bedroom, I call out his name again, “Henry?”
I hear rustling, and upon pushing open the door, I poke my head in to see him, just starting to stir from a nap. “Henry?” I say softly one last time.
“Paige?” he moans and sits up wiping the sleep from his eyes. I see his bare back, so slender that the bones of his spine are sticking out in an alarming way. I immediately cross the room and look at him. His eyes are sunken.
“Baby,” the words slip out of my mouth instinctually. “Are you all right?”