NATALIA
The moment Wesley slammed the door behind him, I stood frozen in the middle of the room.
My arms were limp at my sides as if the argument had drained every ounce of strength from me and his words looped in my head.
I hated that he had spoken to me like that as if I had become exactly what I swore I would never be, difficult and impossible, but what I hated even more was the fear I had deep down that he might be right.
I had been impossible all day. I let old scars from Robert affect the way I saw Wesley and it all crashed over me now. Paris was supposed to be about the campaign, about proving I could stand on my own after everything. Instead, I had turned it into a battlefield, projecting my bitterness onto a man who had done nothing but try to move us forward.
The realizati
