The Ending I Want(96)

“You thought we’d have chosen him over you.” Eddie sounds even more disappointed in me than Cam did.

Won’t lie. It f*cking hurts.

“How could you think that? You’re our friend,” Cam says vehemently. “Our best friend. Yeah, we’ve known Jeremy a long time, but with him, it’s never been like it is with the three of us, and you know that. It’s always been me, you, and Eddie. Jeremy just coasted in and out of our friendship. Even now, I see you way more than I see him. He’s an occasional friend. You’re my best friend.”

A lump climbs up my throat. I fight to swallow it down.

“And you have the most money and a private jet, so of course, we’d pick you,” Eddie says, a loose smile on his face.

And his words are just what I need to stop myself from crying like the * I’m turning into.

Fighting a smile, I shake my head. “Good to know you just want me for my money.”

“And your private jet. Don’t forget the jet.” Eddie’s grin gets bigger.

“How could I?” I chuckle.

Cam leans his forearms on the bar and stares me in the eyes. “Liam, we’re your mates, your best mates. So, don’t you ever f*cking keep anything like that from us again. You got me?”

“I got you.” I tap two fingers to my head in a salute.

My heart might still feel heavy over Taylor. But it feels lighter from telling them the truth.

Cam straightens up, and as his eyes lift, he freezes. I know he sees something behind me because there’s a distinct shift in his expression.

Someone’s here, and I have a feeling it’s someone I don’t want to see.

I swear to God, if it’s Jeremy, I’m going to nail the cunt to the wall.

“There’s someone here to see you.” Cam lifts his chin in the direction of the door behind me.

I look deeper into Cam’s expression. He doesn’t look angry. He looks…pleased.

And that has me spinning my stool around, my gaze zeroing in on the door.

Taylor.

She’s here.

My breath catches as my eyes connect with hers. My heart takes off like a racehorse in my chest.

I slide off my stool, my feet hitting the floor with a thud.

People are moving between us, but I don’t lose eye contact with her for a second.

I need to do something. Go to her.

I force my feet forward, cutting up the space between us.

My moving seems to set her off, and she slowly walks toward me.

We stop a few feet away from each other in the middle of the pub.

“Hi.” Her voice is soft but laced with unease and a hint of sadness.

And it reaches into my chest and curls around me.

I can’t speak.

I’ve wanted to talk to her all day, and now, I can’t think of a thing to say.

Everything I want is standing in front of me, and I’m here, acting like a f*cking mute.

All I have running through my mind is that I want her to stay.

But, the last time I said that, I sent her running.

I want to take the fact that she’s here as a good sign. That she’s changed her mind, but I know better than to presume things in life because, sometimes, presumption can come back to smack you in the face with reality. And she hurts like a motherf*cker.

“You’re here,” I finally say because I’m a dumb f*ck and because it’s all I’ve got at the moment.

Her eyes move from my face and lower to the floor, her lips pressing together, and my heart sinks.

Because, in that moment, I know she isn’t here to stay.

I rub the heel of my hand against the ache in my chest.

“You’re not staying, are you?” It’s not a question because I already know the answer. I just need to hear her say it.

I need to know why she’s here.

Her blue eyes—eyes that always make me think of the sky on a sunny day—lift back to mine.

I can see a world of sadness in them. The sadness she always thinks she’s hiding is now clear for me to see.

Taylor shakes her head, and at the same time, she quietly says, “No.” Her voice breaks on the word.

And that one single word breaks my f*cking heart.

So, I do what I always do when I feel pain. I get angry.

“So, why the f*ck did you come here?” I bite out.

Tears instantly shimmer in her eyes, and her lip trembles.

And I feel like a bastard, and that pain in my chest only intensifies.

She bites her lip and closes her eyes, blowing out a breath. Then, her eyes open and focus back on me. “I just…I didn’t want to leave things the way we’d left them last night.” Her voice is soft, like a whisper, but the blows that come with each word feel like hits in the face. “I didn’t want us to end like that.”

“I didn’t want us to end at all, but we don’t always get what we want.”

And I’ve boarded the train to Bitterville.

She exhales a sad sound. “I wish…” She trails off, her eyes looking away from me.

It angers and hurts me that she can’t even bring herself to look at me.

“You wish what, Taylor?” I fold my arms over my chest and make my tone sound impatient, like she’s a bore on my time. But it couldn’t be further from the truth.