The Casanova (The Miles High Club #3)(108)

“I don’t mind.”

He picks up my hand and kisses my fingertips. “I’m not having you sit there alone while I work. Go home and see your friends.”

I stare at him: something’s wrong.

“Is everything alright?” I whisper.

He stares at me as he presses his lips together, as if he’s stopping himself from saying something.

My heart drops.

If there’s one thing I do know about Elliot Miles it’s that he can’t lie. His inability to answer that question just cemented my concerns.

Something is wrong.

What is it?

Elliot’s gaze goes outside and with his elbow on the window he watches the world go by. My hand is held tight inside his hand but he’s not here with me, he’s miles away.

I just don’t know where.

We arrive at my house and Elliot climbs out and retrieves my suitcase.

I don’t want to be here, I want to go to Enchanted to see the girls and check on Gretel the goat.

“I’ll carry your suitcase up the stairs—” he says.

“I’ve got it,” I cut him off.

He stares down at me, and I don’t know why but I get the feeling he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Goodbye, darling.” He kisses me softly. I lean into the kiss and he pulls out of it. “See you tomorrow.”

I nod, and before I can answer he’s back in the car and the door slams shut.

I wheel my suitcase across the street and the car pulls away. I frown as I watch it disappear.

What was that about?

I carry my suitcase up the steps and open the front door to the apartment. “Hello,” I call. “I’m home.”

Silence.

My shoulders slump. “Great, they aren’t even home.” I exhale and begin to drag my suitcase up the stairs.

Oh well, I suppose some time to myself will do me good.

I haven’t done it in so long.

I’ll put a treatment in my hair and a face mask on, get some Uber Eats. I smile as my little room comes into view.

One night without Elliot Miles won’t kill me.

It’s late and I lie in the darkness.

I messaged Ed earlier tonight when I got home but he hasn’t yet replied.

Elliot hasn’t called to say goodnight either. It’s not like him, he’s usually so attentive.

Weird.

Did he have something on? Was he going somewhere?

I’ve got this sick feeling in my stomach, like something is wrong but I don’t know what. I mean, he was a little bit evasive today but surely not enough to warrant this anxiety.

Is my gut telling me something?

My phone pings with a notification and I smile. Ed.

I jump out of bed and grab my phone and flick the table lamp on.

Hi Pinkie,

Sorry I haven’t messaged you in a few days. I’ve been away seeing my family.

How are you?

I smile and reply:

That’s okay, I missed you.

Tell me about your trip.

His reply bounces in.

My trip was incredible, Kate came with me and met my family. Although I should have known it was all going too well.

I frown. What?

Why, what happened?

I got an email last night, I’ve finally found the artist that I’ve been searching for.

I smile. Oh my God. He found her.

Excitement fills me.

This is amazing!

No, it’s not.

She’s not an old lady as I thought, she’s young and beautiful.

Unattached.

I frown. What does that mean?

I read on.

I know who she is, I’ve seen her at auctions and have wanted to chase her before to ask her out. I’ve always felt like she was someone that I was supposed to meet.

I searched for her, even made my brothers follow her once.

And now to find that it was her paintings that have been calling me for so long . . .

I fear my fate has come to find me when I’ve finally found someone who makes me happy.

No.

Wait . . .

I read that last message again and my chest constricts.

What?

I put my head into my hands; this can’t be happening.

No.

You believe this woman, the artist, is your fate?

I don’t want to have regrets.

I can’t go forward with my life and always regret not going to her and finding out what may have been.

This woman has been in my heart long before anyone else.

The words blur as tears cloud my vision.

What about Kate?

I’m confused.

For the first time in my life, I’m happy with where I am, who I am with.

I feel complete, and yet . . . I can’t stop thinking that I have to go to her.

To see for myself if this is where I’m supposed to be.

Why now?

Why have I only found her now when I’ve been searching for her all along?

Why has fate been so cruel to deliver her to me when I care so much for someone else?

I sob out loud.

I’m going to lose him.

What should I do, Pinkie?

I slam my computer shut.

The lump is big in my throat and painful, and I angrily wipe my tears away.

This isn’t happening. Tell me this isn’t fucking happening.