Page 214 of P.S. I'm Still Yours

She hasn’t even looked at me.

Physically, she’s here, but emotionally, she’s gone.

And she isn’t just icing me out.

She looks like she genuinely hates me.

Her body is crushed to the car door, her back facing me in a way that ensures small talk isn’t a possibility.

I take it back.

Watching her walk away doesn’t even make the top five of my worst moments on this earth.

Realizing the only girl you’ve ever loved has lost all feelings for you?

Now, that shit will kill you.

Part of me is hoping that she’s faking it, but the other is fucking terrified of what it’ll mean if she’s not.

“We’re here,” the driver I hired notifies me, entering the building’s underground parking garage.

I might’ve been reckless when I showed up to Hadley’s dorm without security, but I’m going to play it safe starting now.

I’m sure pictures of me knocking on Hadley’s door dressed like a fucking serial killer are already circulating online, but I can’t have the media finding out where we are.

Drea and my new management have been blowing up my phone since this morning, when they found out I left my LA house without telling anyone.

I knew they’d never approve of me playing hooky and flying to North Carolina right before the trial, so I snuck out in the middle of the night, got on a jet, and did what I do best.

I went after Hadley Queen.

Although, I’m starting to think getting her back isn’t going to be as simple as sending her postcards and souvenirs of all the countries I’ve visited and missed her in.

I’m not saying I expected her to forgive me over a bunch of postcards, but I was hoping it might win me some points. Help her see that she never left my mind, even when a thousand miles stood between us.

I would’ve tried anything to get her to talk to me.

My chauffeur stops the car, and I thank him before getting out. Hadley follows suit, rounding the vehicle to meet me by the elevator.

The doors of the elevator part, allowing us inside, and I insert the key card needed to access my floor into the electronic card reader.

More silence.

Then the doors are gliding apart again, revealing the foyer of the luxurious penthouse I booked on a whim yesterday. Wraparound windows adorn the walls, the city lights and moonlight casting a golden glow over the common areas.

I hit the light switch the moment we step out of the elevator, preparing myself for the traumatic walk I’m about to take down memory lane.

I’ve spent years trying to block out those memories, but tonight, I’m facing them head-on.

Hadley releases a quiet gasp when the lights come on, and even I must admit the place is incredible. Not only is the panoramic view insane, but the penthouse is elegant, with modern furniture, carefully curated artwork, and an open layout.

“Come in.” I lead the way into the living room, Hadley trailing right behind me.

I make a beeline for the couch in the center of the space and take a seat, gesturing for her to do the same. A flash of hesitation gleams in her blue eyes, but she eventually complies, sitting opposite me.

My airways suddenly feel thinner. “Do you want something to drink? I can get you some water or—”

“Just get to the point. You wanted to talk. Now, talk.”

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