Diary of a Bad Boy(104)
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then he’s a dumbass.”
“Dad,” I groan. “Not the answer I was looking for.”
He leans forward and reaches for my hand, which I give him. His thumb strokes lovingly over my knuckles before saying, “If he’s a smart man, which I think he is, he’ll figure it out.”
“I wish that were the case.” I pull my hand away and push a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “One thing I learned about Roark while we were together, when he’s set on something, there’s not much you can do to change his mind. I think when he said it’s over, he truly meant it.”
“He is a man of his word,” my dad confirms, ramping up the panic in my heart. “But there is one thing you don’t know about the man. When he realizes he’s wrong, he owns it.”
“Good morn—yikes,” Maddie says, when I look up at her. “Uh”—she leans forward and whispers to me as she quickly looks around the coffee house—“do you realize you look like death?”
“Oh really?” I answer sarcastically, setting my cup of coffee on the table as Maddie takes a seat with her to-go cup in hand. “I thought I looked like a dignified debutante this morning.”
Maddie shakes her head. “Check the mirror again, Sutton. I love you, but you look like a Barbie doll that’s been dragged across the train tracks all night.”
“You’re incredibly sweet.”
“I’m sorry, but when have I ever not told you the truth?”
“I know, but at least you can finish saying good morning before insulting me.”
“I’m sorry,” she says sincerely. “I was caught off guard. I’m going to guess he hasn’t contacted you?”
I shake my head. “Nope, and he even spoke to my dad two days ago.”
“Did you talk to your dad about the conversation?”
I nod, remembering how tight-lipped he was. “He wouldn’t tell me anything really. He said it was between him and Roark, and what Roark did with their discussion was up to him. Clearly he doesn’t want to do anything.”
“And he’s still not answering you?”
“Honestly, I threw in the towel on trying to communicate with him. It started feeling desperate rather than concerned. I don’t want to be that girl. If he wants me, he wants me.” My stomach churns in knots as tears start to well in my eyes. “And it’s clear he doesn’t . . . want me.”
“Oh, Sutton.” Maddie scoots her chair to my side as I bury my head in my hand, hating that I’m crying in public. Maddie pulls me into a hug, her arms securing tightly around me. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could say something that would make you feel better, but I don’t want to fill you with hope. Roark, from what you’ve told me, doesn’t open up easily, nor does he permit himself to feel.”
“He doesn’t, and that’s what I’m afraid of, that he’s going to walk away, without ever letting himself figure out his feelings for me.”
“Have you gone to his office?”
I shake my head as Maddie pulls away but rests her hand on mine, keeping her comfort close. “That would be too desperate, and what if he turned me away? I would be humiliated, just like I was when Harris told me Roark didn’t want to see me.” Tears streak down my cheeks as I barely voice what’s at the forefront of my mind. “I really . . . think it’s over.” I suck in a deep breath, my chest rattling with sorrow. I feel so broken and hate it. I hate this pain. This agony.
Maddie once again pulls me into a hug and presses her hand to the back of my head. “I’m so sorry, Sutton. I know this is probably the last thing you want to hear, but love is unpredictable. Sometimes it sweeps you off your feet and carries you off into the sunset. And then there are moments where love is a learning lesson, a small chapter of experience in your long and beautiful life. Have your moment, learn from the love you had with him, and when the time is right, the ache in your chest will start to ease and the colors around you will begin to brighten again.”
Even though I know she’s right, that in time I’ll probably get over this, I know deep down, there’s no way I’ll be able to truly let this love go. This was the first time I ever felt another human bury themselves within the marrow of my bones. There will always be a part of my life that reads a little duller before I met Roark McCool, and that’s a realization I’m going to live with for the rest of my life.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dear Who Gives a Fuck, I don’t know why I’m still writing in this damn thing, it’s not like I have anything else to really say other than . . .
I drank until I blacked out last night.
I smoked what feels like three cartons the night before.
And I paid some dickhead in a bar three nights ago to beat the living shit out of me in the back alley.
He did a shitty-ass job.
Now I’m left with subpar black eyes, a wicked cough, and a massive hangover that has me dragging my ass even worse than before.
For the first time since I started my company, I’m taking a sick day.
I called my assistant, pretending to cough, saying I was going to hit up a doctor, but she and I both know the only kind of sick I really am is lovesick.