Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Suddenly, I don’t want to go in. I step back and let the door slam closed.
I leave that quiet suite behind, not bothering to change out of my bathing suit or cover-up before I turn and head back down the hall. I move like a zombie, not fully aware of where I’m heading until I find myself outside Phillip’s door.
I reach up and knock.
Nothing.
I knock again, slightly louder this time. My fist pounding more aggressively than I intend. I wince, but still, the door doesn’t open. Phillip’s not here.
God, I hate the fresh wave of sadness his absence brings.
It feels more telling than it is.
It’s around dinnertime. It doesn’t make sense that he would be here in his suite already. What did I expect?
I don’t know exactly, but the tears come again. God, they just won’t quit today. I’ve been a mess—taking this work thing harder than I should. Pull yourself together, I reprimand myself before sweeping my hands beneath my eyes, forcefully wiping away tears before they can really start to fall. I turn away from Phillip’s door, once again wholly unsure of my destination as I start to slowly walk back down the hall. Even with all my internal protests, tears still gather, clouding my vision as I keep my head down, nervous that someone will walk out of their suite and see me like this. I don’t want to deal with some stranger’s questions.
Are you okay, dear?
Do you want to talk?
Is there someone you want me to call?
I hate every tear that falls, beating myself up for not staying strong. I’ve lived through harder days than today. Plenty of them.
Up ahead, I hear approaching footsteps and cringe.
Intentionally, I look down at the ground, moving to one side of the hallway so the person can sweep past me. Hopefully without getting too close of a look at my disheveled state.
“Casey.”
Phillip’s voice makes me freeze. My eyes pinch closed. My head stays down.
I clear my throat, trying to push past the tightness there as I speak, well, more like ramble. “Phillip, oh. Hi. I . . . um—” I look behind me as if wanting to check something down the hall.
“Were you trying to see me?” he asks, his voice gentle as if he already knows something isn’t right.
The question makes my skin prickle. “Oh.” I shake my head adamantly, trying to sound surprised like the thought hadn’t even occurred to me. Never once do I look at him, using my hair as a curtain to shield my splotchy cheeks. “No. No. I got turned around. Thought I was on a higher deck, but . . .”
I let the sentence dangle as I start to walk, intending to scurry past him, but his hand shoots out to stop me. He grips me right above my elbow, tightly enough that I can’t slip away. My gut instinct is to wiggle free, but his grip doesn’t waver.
Please don’t. Please let go of me. I plead the words in my head while tears gather faster now than ever, as if my body realizes that here, with him, it’s okay to finally let go.
“Sorry if you knocked. I was up with the captain. Just came down to change for dinner, actually.”
His thumb rubs my arm soothingly as he speaks, and the gesture only makes things harder. My stomach is squeezed so tight, like it’s twisted itself into a tangled knot.
“Okay. Yeah. Don’t let me keep you.”
I stare at the carpet—at a one-inch silver square in the pattern—willing him to leave.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, edging closer.
I still haven’t even looked at him. I really don’t want him to see me like this. I’m not sure why I thought it was a good idea to come here. It just happened. My body made the decision before I could really think it through.
“What’s wrong?” he asks again.
I shake my head, not wanting to confide in him. It’s dangerous how much I already feel for him opening up to him the way I have—giving him more of myself is just too tempting.
“Casey,” he pleads, his tone low as he reaches up to cup my face.
I look away, unwilling to meet his eyes as the tears fall down my cheeks until they reach his hand, pooling there.
I’m desperate for his comfort, I realize. I want to feel like there’s someone in my corner. Sienna’s been such a good friend today, keeping me distracted, tugging me along with her so I wouldn’t have to wallow alone in my suite. Phillip is different, though. I want him to take away this pain, sweep me up in the feelings he’s been so good at producing in the last few days.
“Could we go to your suite? Just one more time?”
He doesn’t even hesitate. He lets go of my face, takes my hand—his grip warm and tight and assuring—and he pulls me down the hall to his suite. He’s eager to get me behind the closed door, and I expect him to push me up against it and kiss me senseless like we’ve done the last two times we’ve been alone here. Instead, he brings me over to the couch, sitting me down before taking a chair opposite me.