dreams. His eyes stare into me, begging me to let him in. I fight it with every ounce of my strength. I brace myself against the assault that his gaze wages on me, bolstering the defenses around my heart.
He kicked me out. He turned his back on me. He left me out in the cold.
Now, without a word, I’m ready to let him back in?
My heart stutters as a soft breeze carries his scent toward me. I close my eyes for a brief moment.
I thought I was strong. I thought I was free, and ready to live honestly. I thought I wanted to proclaim my illness from the rooftops with pride, ready to conquer whatever the world had to throw at me. I thought I could raise my baby on my own and stand on my own two feet.
The Prince makes me crumble with one look. He hasn’t even said a single word, and I’m ready to open myself back up to him.
“Dante,” I finally manage to croak, clearing my throat and patting my hair.
“Margot.” His voice is husky, barely a breath.
“I… What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.”
“Dante!” Ivy says behind my shoulder. “I thought you were still in Argyle.”
“I flew back,” he says, moving his gaze from me to my sister and back to me again.
I know he’s waiting for me to open the door wider. He’s expecting me to let him in.
But how could I?
The man who broke my heart is standing there like nothing at all is wrong. His face is open, and although his eyes betray a bit of pain, it’s nothing compared with the suffering in my heart.
I gulp, frozen in place. My feet grow roots and I can’t move from my spot on the floor.
“Can I…come in?” Dante arches his eyebrows.
I nod, pulling the door wider, but instead of waiting around to see what he has to say, I mumble something incoherent and escape up the stairs.
Only when I’m safe in my room do I let a breath out and sink onto the floor. Dropping my head in my hands, I finally let a sob rack through my body. All the tears I’ve held inside come rushing out and I curse my miserable life. I cry for my mother, for my childhood, for all my failed relationships and the weaknesses that have plagued my entire existence.
If I were stronger, I wouldn’t have fallen prey to celebrity and all its curses. If I were stronger, I would have been honest with Dante about the baby.
If I were stronger, I wouldn’t be so fucking terrified of dying.
Huddling on the floor, I cry into the carpet and clutch my growing belly.
“Margie?” Ivy knocks softly on my door, barely whispering my name.
“What?”
She tries to open the door, but my body blocks her from opening it more than an inch or two.
“Margot,” she says softly, “will you let me in?”
Crawling to my hands and knees, I scoot out of the way. I lean against the wall and watch as my sister walks in and slides down the wall beside me. We sit there, knees up, pregnant stomachs protruding, staring straight ahead.
“He’s here for you,” Ivy finally whispers.
“So?”
“So, don’t you want to talk to him?”
“Not particularly, no.” I try to laugh, but it turns into an awful snort. Wiping my cheeks with my palms, I take a deep, shaking breath. “I don’t have anything to say to him.”
“You still love him.”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
Ivy snorts, shaking her head. “Don’t you?”
“Look, Ivy, we don’t all get happily ever afters like you, okay? Maybe this is exactly what I deserve. I’ve lived my life hiding from everything bad, taking the easy way out every time I could. Even with Dante, I hid my pregnancy and the fact that Beckett is the father from him, and it blew up in my face.” My breath shakes, and I squeeze my eyes shut. “Today, I decided I wasn’t going to live like that anymore. I told you about my disease because I wanted to be honest and strong and open.”
“And hiding from the man who loves you is being honest, and strong, and open?”
“No,” I laugh bitterly. My eyes are still leaking tears, and I wipe them away with frustration. I don’t want to cry! I don’t want to hide!
But what else can I do?
“If I go down there, I’ll end up kissing him. He’ll say he’s sorry and I’ll say I’m sorry and that will be the end of