The Ending I Want(93)

Anger and pain pull his brows in. “Well, I did. And I think you love me, too.”

He takes another step toward me.

I grip the handle tighter.

I’m still shaking my head. I’m not sure at what anymore, but I can’t seem to stop.

“I know you love me, Taylor. I see it in your eyes when you look at me. In your voice when you talk to me. In your laughter…” He takes another step closer, his voice lowering. “In your body every time I slide inside you.”

My body shivers. My head has stopped moving. I wrap my arm over my stomach. I can’t even feel the damp and cold on me anymore. All I can feel is him and his words.

“No,” I whisper, my eyes fixed on his chest that’s getting closer by the second.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he says like he didn’t hear my word. “Tell me that you don’t feel the same as I do, and I’ll let you walk out that door. I won’t try to stop you.” Another step. “But I know I’m not wrong, Taylor. I just can’t understand why you won’t admit it.”

Because I’m dying.

Because I don’t deserve you.

Because I owe my family…

I might love Liam.

But I love my family more.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I’m so f*cking in love with you, Taylor.”

I close my eyes against the onslaught of pain.

I love you, too, Liam. So much.

But it’s not enough.

Then, I shut everything down inside me, putting up steel walls and concealing the truth behind them, because it’s all I can do. I pull in a breath and force my eyes up to his, staring straight into them.

“You’re wrong.” I keep my voice even. “I’m not in love with you. I’m sorry.” And I am sorry. So very sorry.

The look on his face…I can put as many steel walls around me as I want, but the look on his face and the pain in his eyes right now…breaks through every single one of those walls, tearing them and me apart.

And that’s why I can’t stay a moment longer.

I turn my eyes from him, yank open the door, and run.

I run through his apartment and out the front door, and I don’t look back.

Reaching the elevator, out of breath, tears mixed in with rainwater streaming down my face, I hit the call elevator button. The door opens immediately.

I fall inside, and I press the button for the lobby.

The door closes, and the elevator starts to descend.

I lean against the wall.

Coldplay’s “Paradise” is playing in the elevator. Some might call it a coincidence. But, to me, it’s a sign from above.

They’re calling for me.

I shut my eyes and rest my head back, exhaling out. “I’m coming,” I tell them.

My time with Liam is over.

It’s time to go home.





I’m sitting on a chair in the middle of my roof terrace.

The place is still lit up like a Christmas tree. The champagne is still sitting in the cooler by the table. The plates and silverware are still in place on the table. The dinner I cooked last night is still on the counter in the kitchen.

Everything is the same as it was last night.

Except she isn’t here.

I’m alone.

And I’m a good halfway through a fifth of whiskey, which I’ve been drinking straight from the bottle, ’cause that’s how I roll nowadays. I’m just missing the brown paper bag around it.

Also, I’m staring at Squishy and Ducky, who I brought out from the bedroom where Taylor had left them on the nightstand on her side of the bed—she had a side of the bed—and I have set them on the floor in front of me, so I can stare at them and torture myself with thinking about Taylor while getting drunk and listening to Daniel Bedingfield on repeat. It’s still playing from last night. I never turned it off.

After Taylor ran out of here and I picked my heart up off the floor, I realized that she’d left her bag. I panicked, knowing that she was out in the city with no money and phone. Her hotel was a good thirty-minute walk from my place.

I could have gone after her, but I was sure she wouldn’t want to see me, so I called Paul and had him drive around and look for her.

He found her soaked through and walking in the direction of the hotel.

He got her in the car and drove her the rest of the way. That’s what I’d told him to do.

I’d already called ahead to the hotel to make sure they had a new key card ready for her, as that was in her bag, too.

Paul saw her up to the hotel room and made sure she got in safe.

Then, I had him come back here, get her bag, and take it to her.

I wanted to hold on to it, so she would have to come back. But I knew it wouldn’t be right because that wasn’t the reason I wanted her to come back.

I want her to come…for me.

But she hasn’t.

I haven’t heard anything from her since last night. And, now, it’s today. The night is starting to come in, and I don’t know what the f*ck to do.

I’ve just alternated between wandering around my apartment to lying in bed and smelling the pillow because it smells of her.

Yeah, I’ve turned into that guy.

So, now, I’m sitting here like a f*cking loser, well on my way to getting drunk, listening to the same sad song because it makes me think of her, and I’m wondering what she’s doing right now.