I DIDN’T WANT to leave Sam. After an unbelievable night together spent with our bodies joined in one of a myriad of ways, I feared that, if I left for a month, I might lose what we had started. But I needed to get my life together so we could restart our relationship in a healthy place for us both—instead of on the top of that bridge. And, unfortunately, no matter how much it sucked, I had to do that alone.
So, with that in mind, at nine the following morning, I blew Sam a kiss from the wrong side of the window as Devon pulled away. He stood, hot as ever, with his hands shoved in his pockets, rocking from his toes to his heels. It made me feel marginally better that he hated watching me leave every bit as much as I did going.
“He’ll be here when you get back,” Henry said, patting my leg when I began to tear up.
“I hope so.” I swallowed hard and rested my head on his shoulder.
“You want me to keep an eye on him while you’re gone?”
I chuckled. “You mean the kind of eye where he wakes up in your bed each morning?”
“I do believe that would be the most effective method for keeping tabs on him.”
I shook my head. “Stay away from him. I don’t need you spending the next month trying to get your claws in his pants while I’m not here to protect him.”
“Oh, please. Even if I didn’t have a dick, it would be a worthless attempt. He’s been hit by the Levee Williams effect. Complete with googly eyes and breathy sighs.”
My insides warmed, and my shoulders relaxed. “He looked at me like that even before he knew who I was. That’s just Sam.”
Henry tossed an arm around the back of my seat and squeezed me tight. “That’s how you know he got the full effect.”
I closed my eyes and sighed.
One month.
It had to be done. The high I felt with Sam was only a patch. He deserved a whole woman, and as we headed to the airport, I was determined to be that woman.
Two private jets and six hours later, I arrived at a rehabilitation center in Maine. It looked like a luxury hotel from the outside, but as soon as we walked into the back door there was no doubt it was a medical treatment facility.
I’d been worried for days that we would be greeted by the paparazzi, but luckily, we arrived under the radar.
Since we’d canceled most of my appearances, it had been speculated that I was going away for rehab. Everyone assumed drugs, but I’d taken to Twitter a few nights earlier, explaining that my body was worn out after my tour and I needed some time off to rest up. Fans seemed to be supportive and understanding, but it was the media who would ultimately cast the final judgment. Stewart was working his ass off, alongside my publicist, to give my “vacation” a positive spin.
“Miss Williams, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Doctor Terrance Post.” The elderly man with thin-rimmed glasses extended his hand in my direction.
“Nice to meet you too. Stewart spoke highly of your facility.”
“Well, that was kind of him.” He smiled. “Come on. Let’s get you checked in.”
The doctor walked away, but my feet remained rooted. My stomach twisted with nerves. I didn’t want to do this anymore. It wasn’t necessary. Well, that was a lie. It was totally necessary, but it still scared the shit out of me. I was already feeling better, so maybe all of this was overkill. Sure, something had to change, but like this?
Henry linked his arm with mine and tugged me forward. “Stop freaking out.”
“I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to go home.”
“Well, I want you to get better. So suck it up.”