Surrender by June Gray Page B

that again.”
    He took a deep breath, his heart breaking all over his face. “Okay,” he said, that one word soaked with finality. “I’ll fly you home.”
    â€œNo,” I said quickly. “I’ll just take a commercial plane.”
    I expected him to argue, to insist that he’d take me, but he just nodded and said, “Let me call you a taxi at least.”

6
    Neal dressed and waited with me at the front of the hotel for the taxi to arrive. He didn’t have to—I practically pushed him back through the sliding doors, I was so aggravated—but he wouldn’t budge. He simply stood stoically beside me, his hands folded across his wide chest, casting glances at me as if I were a complex math problem that had him perplexed.
    â€œI’m sorry it has to end like this,” I said, seeing the taxi turn off the street and into the hotel driveway. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
    He nodded, though there was pain in his eyes.
    I cleared my throat. “You gave me the ability to fly, even for a little while.” Hell, I was being sappy, but how was it possible to keep from being sentimental during this gut-wrenching moment? “I’ll never forget it.”
    When the taxi stopped before us, Neal stepped off the curb and opened the door. The move, so chivalrous in nature, just about broke my heart. “Have a safe trip back home.”
    I set my bag inside and turned to face him one last time. “Be safe,” I said, and gave him a brisk hug.
    â€œJulie, before you leave, please tell me your last name.”
    â€œKeaton.”
    He let out a defeated sigh and nodded gravely. “Julie Grace Keaton,” he said, my name sounding beautiful in his deep voice.
    â€œWait, I don’t know yours.” How was it possible that I’d slept with him, flown to a whole other state with him, and yet we didn’t even know each other’s names?
    â€œHarding. Neal Harding.” He held out his hand and I took it for the last time. His eyes rooted me in place as he shook my hand, then before I could react, he tugged me in and I was engulfed in his strong arms. I buried my face in his chest, breathing in his scent, then he was gripping my hair and kissing me, a desperate man drawing his last breath. “This isn’t the end, Julie,” he said, bowing his head to mine. “Not by a long shot.”
    I wanted to believe him, wanted so badly to take back the last hour so I could enjoy our last night together, but knew it wouldn’t change a thing. Because come the morning, he would still be the very thing I’d been running away from all these years.
    I pulled away, wishing I’d been more careful with my heart. “Sorry, Neal. It has to be.”
    â€”
    I arrived in Monterey at midnight, bleary-eyed and numb. Though it had been a direct, three-hour flight, by the time I walked off the plane I felt like I’d been traveling for days.
    I took a taxi to the Shermans’ house and let myself in quietly, using the key Elodie had lent me. On my way to the guest bedroom, John appeared at the top of the stairs, concern written all over his sleep-rumpled face. “Julie? I thought you weren’t due back until tomorrow,” he said, padding down the stairs.
    â€œI . . . I missed Will,” I said, hoping he didn’t notice my puffy, red-ringed eyes in the dim hallway light.
    He nodded, looking like a comfortable sage in his blue robe.
    I had just turned to go when he spoke, stopping me in my tracks. “You know, sometimes things like these don’t work out,” he said gently. “But the admirable part is that you gave it a try.”
    I kept my back turned to him. I didn’t want him to see my lips twisted in misery. “Good night, John. Sorry I woke you,” I said and walked away.
    Instead of going to the guest room, I crept into Will’s room and lay beside him,