Page 36 of Tormented Billionaire Romance Series

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Well, no.”

“So, it might be a good place to start. At the very least, you'll have a friendship. That's more than you have now. And it would likely heal old wounds.”

“You think I need closure?”

She crossed her arms. “Yeah, actually, I think you do.”

“I've made my peace with what happened. I've gotten over it.”

“Then, you wouldn't have gotten mad with the aisle arrangement. If you were really over it, you wouldn't have thrown a whole damn tantrum.”

She's right, I reflected.I'm not over it. I haven't been for years.

I frowned at my folded hands. My palms were sweating and sticking together, making it difficult to pry them apart. It wasn't the sweat acting as a glue—it was everything else. I felt stuck in place and rigid as a stone wheel. I felt immovable.

I shook my head. “Sure, but that doesn't mean I need closure. I can move forward without it.”

“What about me?”

I met her gaze. “What do you mean?”

“Have you bothered to consider how I feel about you leaving?”

“Well, no . . . I just thought you would understand.”

“Because I always understand.”

I nodded.

“Well, what you don't understand is that I feel abandoned every time you take off. I feel like you're leaving forever. Last time you left, it took you years to come back. It took aweddingto make you come back. Don't you see how that can hurt? Your family wants to spend time with you, Levon.”

“I want to spend time with you, too.”

“So, why don't you?”

I shrugged. “Because I like what I do. I'm good at it.”

“You have so many great skills, Levon. You could apply them nearly anywhere at this point. Your resume is beyond impressive. Literally anyone would hire you in town.”

“Are you telling me I should move back home?”

“I'm just telling you that you have options.”

I shook my head. “I don't know, Jen.”

“You don't have to know right now. But think about one more thing.”

“What's that?”

“Everything I told you about how I feel?” She paused for a moment, taking a slow breath. When she exhaled, she continued, “That's how Clara felt every single time you left. Don't make her feel it again.”

She stood promptly and headed out of the living room, leaving behind the pile of letters toppled over like a broken mountain on the couch.

I felt much the same—broken. My heart cracked in two after my sister left and I collapsed against the cushions, feeling the ache of my muscles double. I sank as far into the cushions as humanly possible. I wanted to disappear. The feeling Jen left me with was awful and it made me curl up as a result.

I hugged my knees to my chest. It was the first time in a long time that I had felt abandoned. And I suppose that was her point. She was making me feel how Clara felt—how Jen and my family felt—every time I took off for another country. I was buried in work. It was my life. And I wasn't exactly sure how to stop.

Work was all I knew. It was all I had. And I had abandoned the very things I wanted in life just to have my job. As much as I hated to think it, Jen was right. I did need closure. I wanted it as much as I craved water when I woke up first thing in the morning. I hungered for it as I did food. My very soul cried out for the sweet release that closure would bring.

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