CELESTE Dominic didn't take me home. I didn't argue. I couldn't. The rain was coming down so hard it was impossible to see three feet in front of you, and I was soaking wet and shaking so badly I could barely hold myself upright. He spoke quietly to one of the resort staff, handed over a card, and within minutes we were being led to a suite in the West Wing. The suite was warm and expensive and too beautiful for the kind of night I was having. I walked straight to the couch, sat down, and stayed there. I didn't take off my wet clothes. I didn't move. I just sat there and stared at the wall while the rain hammered the windows and something inside me kept breaking over and over in the same place. Dominic moved around quietly. I heard him adjusting the heater. Heard the clink of mugs in the kitchenette. He didn't talk and I was grateful for that because I had nothing to say. He set a mug of coffee on the table in front of me. I stared at it. "Drink it," he said. Not unk
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