Wesley opened his mouth to speak, to protest, but he turned his head at the sound of a car honking discreetly outside.

Nora met his eyes.

“That’s for me,” she said, standing up.

“You’re really going back to him?”

Nora faced Wesley. All she wanted to do was take him in her arms and hold him until all their pain was gone. But there was no time for that anymore. And his pain and hers weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“Wes, I don’t think I ever actually left him.”

Nora grabbed her purse by the door and dug inside it. She pulled out her wallet and wrote a check to Wesley.

“Here.” She handed him the check. “Back pay. Should cover your tuition and anything else you need for the rest of the semester.”

Wesley took the check and methodically ripped it into pieces.

“I never needed or wanted your money. All I ever wanted was you. Nora, please—”

Nora looked back at Wesley and wished she hadn’t. She knew this would be the last time she saw him, maybe forever. She wanted her last memory of him to be happy… The day they’d danced around her living room when her fifth book hit the bestseller list… The night they’d stayed up until 3:00 a.m. to catch the meteor shower… That Saturday last summer he took her horseback riding for the first time… Last Sunday when he wanted to give her his virginity and there was nothing more in the world she wanted than to take it. But she knew she’d never forget the look he wore on his face, the desperation, the broken eyes.

“Don’t go,” he begged. “I love you. I’ve always—”

Nora stopped his words with a hand on his chest over his heart. He covered her small hand with his much larger one. She took a shallow breath.

“I was wrong, Wes. About the watch chain and the combs… You’re the only thing I have of value.”

“Nora—”

“Don’t forget to check your numbers. And stay away from carbs, okay? And do your homework and—”

Nora closed her eyes and tears poured down her face. She inhaled hard and met his eyes.

“I will,” he promised with a hollow voice. His eyes were wide with shock.

She pulled away from him and left the house carrying nothing but her bag. A gray Rolls-Royce was waiting on the street.

“Bonjour, maîtresse,” Kingsley said from the backseat.

“No, it isn’t a bon jour, monsieur.” She collapsed against him, her head on his knee.

“I know, Elle.” Kingsley put his hand on her flushed forehead. She winced at the pity in his voice, the pity in his touch. “Where to? You said you needed to hide out for a few days. My town house? The Circle?”

“Take me anywhere,” she said.

“Anywhere?” he asked.