For the second time in as many weeks I'm in bed, unable to get up. I don't know what day it is; I don't know how long I've been here.
Fitz's words keep echoing in my head—the ice in his voice—saying he changed his mind, calling me a mistress for the first time. And I know, deep down, I made a horrible mistake.
I fell in love with Fitz.
Everything else snowballed from there. If that hadn't happened, if I hadn't gotten caught up, lost control, I wouldn't be here in bed, unable to get up. Not knowing what day it is, not knowing how long I've been here.
I was blind.
I was stupid.
I let my guard down.
It can't ever happen again.
It won't ever happen again.
