The Billionaire Next Door (Billionaire Bad Boys #2)(88)

Despite the motion sickness, he’d stayed awake and worked. Thanks to a long night of sleep deprivation, his brain was fuzzy and his head was throbbing, and all he wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for days. He had to grab at least a few hours, or he’d be jet-lagged forever.

Despite the rough flight home and the hectic schedule while he was there, he was glad he made the trip. There had been a narrow window to buy fast and close quickly, and another party had been interested in the land. He and Reese had arranged to have their lawyer fly over to facilitate the agreement. And like that, the Crane Maui hotel had a foundation. Now it was done and Tag had never been so grateful to be at his own penthouse.

There was an added benefit to his trip: the relentless feeling of plummeting headfirst into Terror Town had dissipated. Whatever he’d been upset about while sharing his place with Rachel—whatever bizarre fear had rattled him—was gone. He’d missed Rachel so much, he could hardly stand it. He’d called and texted her a few times, but the long-distance contact hadn’t been enough. He couldn’t wait to wrap his arms around her, smell the sweet scent of her hair.

He stuck the key in the lock and let himself in, dragging his suitcase behind him. Rachel was standing in his living room, a sight for his incredibly sore eyes.

Like the first time he saw her outside his apartment building, he felt the hit low in his gut. At the time he’d been transfixed by her blond hair and full, glossed lips, and wondering what secrets this exquisite creature held. Now he knew. He’d had her blond hair wound around his fist, and he’d kissed those lips more times than he could count. He’d learned she preferred to sleep on her side facing the windows and that she always left her towel on the bathroom floor. She took her coffee black, her breakfast to-go, and always, always slept in pajamas. Even when he begged her not to.

A smile crested his mouth. God. He’d missed her.

“Hey. I thought you’d be at work.” He wrapped an arm around her and held her close. His chest filled. “Mmm. You smell good.” He kissed her hair, then moved to kiss her mouth, but she turned her face and pulled away from him.

Her eyes were shuttered, her mouth unsmiling.

What the hell?

She moved to a suitcase by the door—this one hers, which stood next to another large bag. She hooked her purse onto her shoulder and tilted her head. “You’re early. I thought you’d be home later today.”

Her tone was flat. Her eyes were flat. In his head, a warning siren blared.

“I left right after the closing.” His eyes tracked back to her luggage. “Dimples, what’s going on?”

“I’m going to Ohio today,” she said. Formally.

The wedding. Thank Christ. He’d thought for a second she was moving out. His brain was more sluggish than he’d thought. He was borderline panicked, and all she was doing was going on the trip she’d told him about.

“Right. Have a nice time. Are you taking my car?” He rubbed his eyes and yawned, feeling every minute of sleep he’d lost.

“I’m not taking your car, Tag.” Her tone was still flat, her forehead creased.

Whoo-ooop! Whoo-ooop! The siren in his head screeched.

Okay. It wasn’t just the jet lag. Something was definitely wrong.

“I’m going to need you to lay out what’s going on,” he said. “I don’t like this.”

“I didn’t plan on doing this now, but maybe I should…” Her blue eyes held his, devoid of the heat and desire he’d grown accustomed to seeing there. In their place was acceptance. Pragmatism. “Things had to end sometime, right?”

End? His heart hammered double time. He released the death grip on his suitcase handle and came to stand in front of her.

“Hang on.” He pushed the front door closed and put his hand flat on the wood. He couldn’t comprehend what she’d told him. It was like his mind was lined with fur. “I’ve had a long, sleepless night. An exhausting flight. Let’s—”

“I had fun, Tag.” Her smile was polite. “I don’t want you to think I have any regrets, because I don’t.”

My God, she’s seriously doing this.

“I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done,” she continued. “You really helped me through a bad patch.”

“Dimples, hang on.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, his head pounding as hard as his heart. His head swirling, dizzy.

“I feel like it’s best to end things now before it gets harder to walk away.”

He opened his eyes to find her eyes swimming in sadness. He wasn’t sad. His chest was as empty as if his heart had been scooped out.

“Who said anything about walking away?” he managed. Barely.

“You did,” she said quietly. “In a million subtle ways. The way you left for Hawaii after I’d stayed with you for a few days. The way you have kept me as close as possible in bed, but as far as possible elsewhere. I’m not angry, Tag. I’m not. And this is a good thing for you. You’re off the hook. For the wedding. For the future. It’s better for both of us if we don’t drag this out.”

His synapses were running at a slog, but one thought snapped into place. “This is about me not going to a wedding?”

“It’s okay. You are who you are, but I need to be who I am.”