He glances up and shrugs. “We have stars in Valmont. We didn’t need to come here to see that.”
“I guess you’re right,” I say, thankful we’ve reached my cottage. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Why did you come here?” Cyrus asks as I reach for the knob.
“Here? You two dragged me.”
“To London?” he clarifies. “You didn’t even finish the semester.”
“It was too good of a chance to pass up,” I say smoothly, the lie having become second nature at this point.
“It had nothing to do with him?”
No one’s questioned my decision to leave Valmont. After the video, my father seemed eager to put me on a plane and get me as far away from Sterling as possible. A bit too eager, honestly. The longer time passes the more I see it for what it was. He saw a chance to seal Sterling’s fate, and he took it. I’d played into his hands. But coming to London was my move. I shake my head. “I have my reasons.”
“Then you’re over him?” Cyrus’s words slur a bit, and he stumbles back a step.
“Go to bed,” I tell him. “You don’t need to worry about Sterling and me. It’s over. I’m fine.”
“You’re lonely,” he counters. “I can see it.”
“I know what Poppy thinks, but—”
“It’s what I think. I’ve known you a long time,” he says. “I know when you’re hurting.”
“Okay, I will be fine. Eventually. But seriously, you don’t have to worry about me,” I say.
“But I do worry. Adair, I…” He trails away, turning his head to look toward the darkened house. “Do you want to talk?”
“You should stick to whiskey, Cy. Wine makes you a bit emotional,” I advise him. I turn the knob and open the door a crack. “I just want to go to bed.”
“Yeah, me, too.” He takes his hands out of his pockets and steps toward me. I expect him to hug me, him being too drunk to remember how much I hate that, and I brace myself. Then his mouth is on mine.
My hands shove him back and he stumbles, nearly falling onto his ass.
“What the hell?” I step backward, feeling behind me for the door.
“Adair, I didn’t—” He scrambles onto his feet and advances toward me. “Let me come in. Let me explain.”
“Go the fuck to bed,” I order him, backing inside my cottage the rest of the way and slamming the door shut.
Wiping the back of my hand furiously across my lips, I fight tears as I lock the door. He’s drunk. It meant nothing to him or to me. But that doesn’t change the fact that he kissed me.
Sterling was the last man that kissed me, and without thinking, Cyrus just erased that. He took that final kiss from me, and I hate him for it. Almost as much as I wish I could hate Sterling. I kick off my shoes and climb into the bed, pulling the sheets to my chin. This is why I came to London: to claim my life as my own. To get away from a world that constantly takes what it wants, not caring if there’s anything left over for me. But as the first tears splatter on my pillowcase, I realize that I’ll never escape that world.
It won’t let me.
“He did what?” Sterling roars. He’s on his feet, pacing the room in bare feet, looking like he wants to put his fist through the wall.
“He was drunk.” The excuse falls out of my mouth.
“That sounds like a lie you’re telling yourself.” Sterling’s anxious energy attracts Zeus, who comes to sit in the doorway, watching him with concern.
“It probably is. I just needed to tell myself something,” I admit. “But I’ve never forgiven him really. Maybe it was a stupid mistake, but I hate that he did that to Poppy.”
“The next time I see him…” Sterling massages his fist with the palm of his left hand.
“It was a long time ago, and after what happened next, it just never seemed to matter.”
I find myself hoping for rain the following morning, so I have an excuse to avoid Poppy, and, more importantly, Cyrus. Instead, sunshine and blue skies greet me as soon as I look out the window. Trust the fickle English weather to give everyone a beautiful day when I need a storm. I dress slowly, wondering if anyone will say something about my riding attire. I hadn’t brought riding clothes purposefully. I doubt I could button my