Mr. Franz steps out of the foyer, ready to end his phone call.
Promptly, Brexton drops his hand, and removes himself from my body. Smoothing through his inky locks, he fixes himself at the head of the table and nods to our guest.
“Welcome back,” Brexton says, calm and controlled like nothing happened.
Same cannot be said for me. My throat burns, feeling raw and scraped from the overload of emotions. I don’t even dare to speak since I’m already certain nothing about my tone will be collected.
Lucky for me, the men dive into serious matters, and soon I feel long forgotten by both of them.
For the best, really. The quiet and space allow me to reclaim my logical and self-preserving headspace. Sitting here, with my hands in my lap, dread creeps all around me.
Saying yes would have been a disaster.
And soon, I’m giving into the hollowness that’s usually shoved aside as the room around me falls away.
No, Olivia. Better to stay as you are ... detached.
Brexton has no idea who I am, and it will have to stay that way. As things are, I’m only half alive.
Half the woman—soul—I used to be, and there’s no coming back from that.
Sexy, multimillionaire bachelor or not. There’s no returning from a past that still haunts my mind and will continuously rob me of my future.