Page 91 of Tormented Billionaire Romance Series

Levon's father briskly walked up to the door and immediately embraced me. He smelled like the same old cologne he had worn since Levon and I were teenagers.

I smiled warmly. “Hello, Mr. Milford. It's good to see you both looking so healthy!”

“Ah, you've always been so kind, Clara,” he remarked as he pulled away. “What brings you to our door? Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“I was actually looking for Levon. I've been trying to get a hold of him. Is he here?”

They exchanged glances before focusing on me. Mrs. Milford offered me a mournful smile as she replied, “Oh, he left for Canada last night. Did he not tell you?”

I blinked. “Oh.”

“It was quite a last-minute trip from what he told me,” Mr. Milford explained. “But I'm sure he told you, right?”

My face went numb as I tried to keep my smile. “He must have forgotten to mention it.”

“And he hasn't been answering his phone? I swear, that boy is always busy with something,” she joked. “I can let you know if he calls.”

“Oh, that would be great. Yes, thank you.” I held up a hand to wave as I stepped away. “It was lovely seeing you again. Take care!”

I raced to my car as fast as my heels would carry me. As soon as I was locked inside, I started up the engine and peeled away carefully from the driveway, not caring which way I took to get back to my sister's house. I left so fast that I didn't have time to process what had happened.

He left without saying anything. Last night. Last minute. What was I expecting from Levon Milford? Last minute is his whole thing.

I parked in the driveway of my sister's house and turned off the car, sitting in silence. My hands shook despite how hard I was holding the wheel. My vision went blurry as tears filled my vision, a sob taking over my throat. I leaned forward and burst with emotion.

Tears flooded my cheeks and wet the steering wheel, soaking my hands as I raised them to cover my face. I shook with sobs, my entire form shuddering with the realization that Levon had never changed—and he never would. It didn't matter if I told him my feelings or begged him to stick around to make things work. There was no way he would ever change.

And it hurt to remember that.

I cried until there was nothing left. I cried hard until my throat was dry and my eyes were burning for relief. Once I had finished, I stepped from the car and sniffled as I walked up to the house, clumsily procuring my keys from my purse. I unlocked the door, stumbled inside, and collapsed on the couch for round two of crying.

I sobbed into the pillows.

“I was . . . going . . . to choose you,” I held back a loud sob, squeezing my eyes shut to control the amount of tears falling. “But you left. Just like you did after college.”

I shook my head as I rolled over to rest my head on the pillow. I stared at the ceiling with the same hopeless resolve as I had many times in the past. It was a repeat of everything that happened after college. I recalled the lonely nights of cold sheets. I remembered how I cried every time he left me alone.

And it was awful.

“If I had reached him sooner, if I had spoken to him Sunday night instead . . .”

I covered my face as another floodgate broke open. Tears streamed from eyes, more than I had ever cried in my life. I was overwhelmed by the sorrow and disappointment I felt. Betrayal swam in my gut like a poisonous fish getting ready to kill my system. I held my stomach as an additional wave of sobs echoed in my chest.

My eyes were burning. I rose up and ran to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face, sighing shakily as the cool liquid soothed me. When I raised my gaze to the mirror, I immediately turned away. I looked awful. My cheeks were puffy and my eyes were red-rimmed. Every bit of my neck looked blotchy as if I had eaten something I was allergic to. I grabbed a towel and ran it under the faucet, opting to sit it over my features.

The gesture helped. I rested on my bed and propped up my feet, kicking my heels off immediately. Once I was comfortable, I relaxed into the mattress, hoping it would provide more relief. I wasn't sure when Laura would be home. I needed her comforting words and wonderful jokes to keep me going. Levon sure wasn't going to do that.

And I don't think he ever planned to do that. Work took priority—as always.

I scrunched up my face. I was sick of crying and I didn't want to let it out anymore. I rested the cool cloth on my forehead and took a few breaths, settling back into my body. The shaking subside. My eyes were still burning, but at least they were drying out. My cheeks were sore from my face contorting and my stomach hurt from sobbing.

I rolled to my side. I stared at the empty space in my bed with a grim expression, wondering if Levon would have ever changed. I rested my hand over the cold sheets. I rubbed them gently, running my nails over the white fabric. I recalled how Levon had felt against me. He snored as he typically did, but it was a comforting sound. It meant he was home.

And now he was gone.

I grimaced.

There's no use crying over spilt milk is what my mother would say, I reminded myself.And Levon is milk way past its date. He's not even worth getting worked up over.

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