All Chapters of Quit Playing Games (English): Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

They went for a trek in the pine-covered hills behind town, packed a picnic, and set sail along the coast. They drove to out-of-the-way villages on occasion, where they dined on delicious local fare in a tiny, modest restaurant with walls lined with wine barrels. They went into the city on occasion and dined in style on the best the city has to offer. On the Grand Pavilion Hotel, they danced side by side and made passionate love in his king-size bed.If he had to break a date—which he did frequently—he sent her flowers or texted her notes in the middle of the night so she would find them when she awoke. In exchange, she attempted to keep her anxiousness in check while he was away, but she never felt truly at ease until he returned. She couldn't sleep and spent the night on the floor. She couldn't eat since her appetite had been taken away by anxiety. Rocco never missed an opportunity to remind her she was making the biggest mistake of her life when he noticed her.

However, he remained silent over the weekend. She couldn't hold it together any longer on Monday morning and sobbed in front of Rocco. She cried, "I'm worried sick for him."“When you become involved with a man like him, that's what happens.”“You make it sound like I had a choice whether or not to fall in love with him, but that's not how it works. Regardless of my better judgment, it happened.”“I'm not sure what to say. I tried to warn you, but you wouldn't listen, and now you're trapped with no way out.”“You're not helping,” she screamed as she wiped away her tears.He had a sad expression on his face when he gazed at her. “I'm sorry, but I'm unable to assist you. Worrying is a waste of time when it comes to my son, which I learnt a long time ago. He'll do what he wants, regardless of who or what stands in his way.”She cried bitterly, “How do you sleep at night, Rocco?&n

Lara kept the connecting door between their rooms open for the rest of the night, worried as much about his rising temperature as the injury that was causing it. He opened his eyes and peered at her in the faint light at one point, as if he had no idea who she was. Another time, she overheard him deliriously repeating her name and knew he was on fire when she placed the back of her palm to his cheek. She couldn't give him aspirin because she didn't know the extent of any vascular damage, so she had to settle for sponging him down with lukewarm water. It relieved the temperature for a while, but it never entirely subdued it. She'd understood from the start that what she could do for him would only be a first-aid, and she'd hoped that the new day would make him more receptive to the kind of care that only a doctor could deliver. When his temperature rose dangerously just before daybreak, despite her attempts, she decided she couldn't wait any longer and called Roc

So there it was, the end of the affair, given with his customary unflinching honesty. They'd finally used up their borrowed time, and she was standing on the doorstep the next day, something she'd worked so hard to avoid. "We were never a good fit, were we?" she murmured, her voice hollow with grief. "Never," he admitted after a dreadful, tension-filled silence. "It's always a ships-passing-in-the-night type of thing." His voice, on the other hand, was rusty, like if he'd choked on a peanut. And she... she was on the verge of crying. She'd followed in her parents' footsteps and risked everything for the sake of experiencing the present moment. And in the process, he'd lost everything. Their biggest blunder had now become hers as well. "So...o...o." She drew out the word on a long, quivering sigh. "I guess this is goodbye." "I guess it is." "It's

She laid in bed that night, surrounded by all of the things that made her feel at ease. She had hung her own blue and white wallpaper. Three years ago, she had bought a handmade wedding ring quilt at auction. Her rosewood bombe chest of drawers and imitation four-poster bed. The silver-framed photograph of her parents and two little oil paintings she'd discovered at an estate auction the summer after graduating from nursing school. She convinced herself that they were proof that she didn't need a man in her life. She'd put a rocking chair in the alcove near the window, where she'd nurse her baby, then a white bassinet next to her bed as her due date approached. She'd change the second bedroom into a nursery after he'd outgrown it. Clouds should be painted on the ceiling. On the walls, stencil unicorns and pixies—oh, and a guardian angel, because every child needed one, even if he couldn't have a father. A father... Chris...&nbs