“Yeah, well, sorry doesn’t fix it. I thought you really cared about me, but as usual, I was wrong. If you did, you would’ve never pulled a stunt like that. Fucking Christmas.”

The elevator dings and the doors open. He steps out, but I stay put, watching as he makes his way through the hotel lobby without once glancing back.

His words ring through my head over and over, and each one feels like a stab to the chest. I watch as the elevator doors close on any future the two of us could have had.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Andrew

I haven’t slept. Not even for a minute, though my body feels completely fatigued and a little like it got run over by a truck.

I don’t know what happened last night. One minute I was in the present at the firm’s party, and the next thing I know, I was back in London on the night I proposed, a hundred cameras bearing witness to my utter humiliation. My chest grew tight, and I felt as though I couldn’t breathe. All I knew was that I needed to get out of there and away from Kenzie. Away from anyone.

But in the light of day, I can see that I overreacted. Sure, Kenzie was drunk and will probably be mortified about her behavior, but I shouldn’t have left her there. I have no idea how she got home and whether she made it safely. What kind of boyfriend does that?

I push my hand through my hair while I sip my second cup of coffee, wondering how I’m going to fix this. I’m not too worried about work. I mean, it’s not against company policy to run out of the Christmas party, albeit embarrassing. And I’ll certainly have some explaining to do about exactly why Kenzie was attempting to do a striptease for me in the middle of the party.

But I am worried about Kenzie and what she’ll have to say about what happened, the words I spit at her.

Rather than putting it off any longer, I dial her number, but she doesn’t answer. Maybe she’s still sleeping off her hangover. It’s still early.

I figure I’ll clean myself up, so I go shower. I dial her number again once I’m dressed. Still no answer.

Unease makes my digestive tract feel like river rapids.

Fuck it, I’ll just go to her place. At the very least, I need to make sure she got home all right.

This early on a Saturday morning, it doesn’t take me long to make it to her building. The morning is bitter cold, and since I left my place in a rush, I don’t have a hat or gloves. After I buzz her apartment, I rub my hands together and wait for her to answer.