Cruz’s POV
I stare at the open trunk on my bed. I don’t remember how long I have been staring at it. It has probably been a few hours this time. It is completely empty as is the business backpack I have on my desk.
Everything in my body is physically resisting packing up my belongings. Sure, I could call my driver or someone to come and do it for me, but procrastinating in doing it myself makes it feel like I have some kind of control over returning to Spain.
This alone makes me happy.
I do not want to leave. I have a good life here. I have someone I care about here.
Haven.
For the life of me, I cannot get her out of my mind. I want to see her again. I have to see her again, but will there be enough time?
At the very least, I can give her a quick call, right? She has this afternoon off. Maybe talking to her will help ease this whole packing thing.