"Lay down," she commanded, getting up off the bed and patting one pillow.
He more or less staggered into the bed and then looked over at her, waiting. She leaned in, and then at the last moment, kissed him on the forehead.
"Cheat," he murmured, eyes closed.
"You're too drunk to appreciate anything more," she told him.
He made a sound that might have been affirmation, and before she'd even pulled the blankets up over him, he was asleep.
She stared down at him, thinking. She didn't know what to do with him. Or what to think. Jonathan still drove her crazier than crazy in every possible way. Why was it that ten years apart felt like an eternity . . . and yet it felt like yesterday at the same time?
He rolled over in the bed and hugged the pillow, exposing his backside and the wallet sticking out of his pocket. Oh, right. She reached over and pulled it out of his jeans so it wouldn't disturb him while he slept, intending to put it on the nightstand. Instead, she stared at it for a moment and then snuck another peek at him. Still fast asleep.
So she opened his wallet, unable to resist her nosiness a moment longer.
It was full of money. That was no surprise to her; he was a billionaire. That interested her less than what else was in the wallet. Was it stuffed full of condoms? Pictures of other women? She dug around, knowing it was a shitty thing to do and not caring. Behind several platinum and black credit cards, she found a picture tucked away. Aha.
But when she pulled it out, it was her own face staring back at her.
The picture was creased, the edges worn, and it was obvious that it had been carried in this wallet-or others like it-for a long, long time. The photo was of Santorini, her and Jonathan standing in front of the Akrotiri ruins, both of them wearing hats and stripes of white zinc on their noses. They looked like dorks.
They looked so happy.
Nineteen-year-old Violet's braids were hanging over her shoulders and she was gazing up at a smiling Jonathan with an adoring look. Violet felt a weird little lurch in her stomach at the sight of that. Once upon a time, she'd adored him. And judging from this photo, that was how he'd wanted to remember her.
She carefully put the folded photo back into his wallet and looked for any other photos of women. There was nothing, just the photo of her. Frowning, she closed his wallet and put it on his bedside table.
At her side, Jonathan moaned in his sleep.
She stiffened, listening and watching him. To her horror, a harsh sob racked his body. "Violet," he moaned.
He sounded so tortured. Heart aching, she reached out and touched his arm. "I'm here, Jonathan. Go back to sleep."
Immediately, his sobs died down and his breathing calmed, and he returned to sleep.
Violet stared down at the man she thought she knew.
She didn't know what to do. For a long, painful moment, she wanted to turn and run right out of his room, out of the hotel, and keep running all the way back to Detroit. Pick up her nice, safe, quiet little life again and forget all about the billionaire who'd used her and hung her out to dry. Running away was sometimes a lot easier than staying and facing things, and she was a big fan of running.
But she didn't leave. Instead, she reached over and brushed the curls off of Jonathan's brow and then sighed when he didn't wake up. Well, shit.
She spotted his phone on the other nightstand and got up, heading for it. It was a smartphone, and she slid her thumb across the button, wondering if it was password coded. Nope. Her heart thumping, she went to his list of recent contacts. Several businesses scrolled past the screen, and then she found a name. Cade.
Chewing on her lip, she considered it for a moment, and then dialed.
It took a few rings before someone answered. Then, a man's cheerful voice came on the line. "Hey man, what's up?"
"I- Is this Cade?" Violet tried to keep her voice calm. "Are you a friend of Jonathan's?"
The man's tone immediately became more guarded. "Who's this?"
"My name is Violet-"
"Oh, damn. Violet, huh?"
She frowned. "Yes. Why?"
"That Violet?"
"That Violet what?" she snapped at him, growing irritated. What did this man think he knew?
"From a long time ago? The one who broke his heart?"
She felt her cheeks heating. "That's personal."
"That's also not a no." The man's voice grew kind. "What can I do for you, Violet? And why are you calling me on Jon's phone?"
She glanced over at the man sleeping in the bed, his brow furrowed as if his dreams still tormented him. "I think I broke him again," she whispered.
-
Cade agreed to head to New Mexico, but he couldn't get away for another day. In the meantime, Jonathan woke up, surly and dark, and headed right back to the bar. The front desk called Violet again-as if she could stop him!-and through more cajoling of a drunk man, she managed to get him back to his room to sleep it off again.