Page 114 of Once Upon a Fall

So, I’ll keep it to myself.

Dean

The prince left the kingdom for a tower. The tower was very nice, and he hated it.

“Welcome back to the W, Mr. Alden,” a woman in a black blazer says as she checks me in.

It took me nearly seven hours to get here, but the drive was surprisingly easy for a Monday. Not a lot of traffic until I hit the city.

When I pulled up, the valet took my car, the bellhop grabbed my bags, and I headed inside to check in. Not exactly the level of service I’d been used to for the last month and a half.

I look around as I wait for the check-in clerk to run my credit card. I’ve stayed at this particular hotel in Union Square a few times and have always appreciated the great customer service, the larger rooms, high-thread-count sheets, and firm mattresses.

Today, it just feels drab.

There’s no heart. The polished surfaces and modern furniture are cold and impersonal.

I think I’d much rather be in a cozy inn with a pink ruffled bedspread, a mattress with a permanent dip in the middle, and a shower curtain rod that’s hot-glued in place.

But I ran out of reasons to stay. The only thing that would have kept me there was Rosie. And she never asked.

I waited until she was fully back on her feet before leaving, but she insisted that I go, even though she could only do so much before having to take a nap.

All the guests at the inn had checked out that Sunday, and there wouldn’t be new ones until the next weekend, so she had some time to fully recover.

“Manhattan will be great,” she said as she walked me to my car, my bags already in the trunk along with two boxes of things I kept from the farm.

She was trying to be chipper; I could tell. But her complexion was pale, and she still had bags under her eyes.

We stared at each other for a minute, standing by my open car door before she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me, her cheek resting on my chest.

“I’m going to miss you,” she said, her words muffled against my jacket.

“Me too,” I said, my arms going around her, pulling her close.

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t need to,” I told her.

She’d given me one of her signature rambles earlier when I tried to help her pull the sheets off my bed, telling me I’d done too much already, and then there was something about Aruba or a gift card to Chili’s, before cutting herself off and apologizing.

She pulled out of the hug too soon, taking a step back and then putting her hands in the back pockets of her black overalls. She blinked a few times, the way she usually does when she’s holding back emotions.

I wanted to kiss her. Just one more time. Then ask if she wanted to figure this out. Because that’s what I want.

She might have said yes. Even after telling me she agreed with that Jackson idiot about long-distance relationships. But Rosie says yes to things all the time. And that was the problem.

I don’t want to be another yes from Rosie. I don’t want to spend the next six months wondering if she wants this too, or if I’d just be one more person asking something of her that she couldn’t bring herself to refuse. If she wanted more, she could tell me.

But she didn’t.

So, we said goodbye, and I watched her get smaller in my rearview mirror as I drove away.

I didn’t stop by the farm on the way out. I’d planned to, but the thought of seeing a FOR SALE sign in front of my grandparents’ house made me keep driving. There was nothing I needed there anyway.

“Mr. Alden?” the woman checking me in asks.

I think she may have said it a few times.