The Break(89)

“Wow,” I say, shaking my head. I let go of a breath. I don’t want him to think I’m judging him, because I’m not, because now I know what it feels like to want something you can’t have. But I wanted Gabe for a few hours—maybe even a few days—before it simmered back down again. He’s wanted Rowan for years and years. I ask, “So then why did you bring me there, to Gabe’s reading, if you were so worried about all the ways he pulls women in and makes them want him?”

Harrison shrugs. “I guess I was showing you off,” he says.

“At least you’re honest,” I say.

“Too much therapy not to be.”



“Is it working? The therapy?”

“Nope,” Harrison says, and he laughs again, and the air changes, and I hate this moment; I want to leave so badly my teeth hurt with the wanting.

“So you’re in love with Rowan,” I say. “Can we move on now? I really want to get out of here. I’m freezing, and the dust is making it hard to breathe. I’m allergic.”

Harrison drops the laugh. “Who wouldn’t be in love with her? She’s the most appealing creature I’ve ever met.”

I swallow. I almost feel bad for him. “Does she know?” I ask.

He stiffens a little. “Oh, I think she does,” he says. “That’s the thing with you women: You like it, don’t you? When a man’s eyes are all over you, when they can’t get enough?” He brushes a wayward blond curl off his forehead. “You certainly like it, June,” he says.

“That’s not entirely right,” I say. My blood moves through my veins a little faster.

“Are you sure?” he asks me. “I’ve been watching you these past few months. You really are cut out for this actress thing,” he says. “You love being in the spotlight.”

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” I say, moving back a step.

“I think you are,” he says. He waves around the journal. “You’ve wasted months of my life using me to get closer to Gabe. You’ve been in love with him this entire time. And how messed up is that, that you’re the one going to their house to care for their baby.” He snaps his fingers. “Oh my God,” he says. “Maybe Rowan’s not completely insane at all. Maybe you did try to hurt Lila.”

My mouth falls. “How dare you?”

“Sometimes real life is stranger than fiction,” he says nastily. “Isn’t that what storytellers love to say? In fiction, everything has to make sense. Characters’ motivations, timelines. There’s no room for coincidences.”



“If you’re done waxing poetic about storytelling, and accusing me of trying to harm children, I’m going to go home now. But for the record, I’m not in love with Gabe,” I say. “I had a crush that first night we met, like you saw there in my journal when you stole it. And you’re right, Harrison, it was all about his sex appeal, if that’s what you’d like to call it. But then I got to know Rowan, and I care about her, and I am absolutely not in love with her husband.”

“So now what?” Harrison asks. “You’re just hanging on, trying to be a part of their life? Trying to ruin Rowan by telling her about Gray before she’s ready? A little desperate, don’t you think?” The back of his hand goes to his forehead and he rubs it quickly, furiously. “I guess I wasn’t enough, was I?” he asks. “All those amazing places I took you, though . . . was it worth sleeping with me for that kind of access, June?”

I gasp. “I’m done here,” I say, making a move to get past him.

“You’re not,” he says, and then he grabs my arm.

“Ouch!” I say, and I see it register on his face, but I can’t read the look I see there. It’s almost like he’s scared of how far he’s gone, and for a second I think he’ll let me go. “You’re hurting me,” I say when he doesn’t.

“You hurt me,” he says. “You played me like a pawn.” He shakes his head as if he can’t believe how despicable I am. “I’ve tried moving on from Rowan so many times,” he says. “And every time I end up with women like you. Self-involved, immature, deceitful. There are so many women like you and not enough like Rowan.”

I hold back tears because now he’s said the thing that breaks me, the thing I fear is the most true: that I’m not shiny and good, that I’m just untalented, selfish, unlovable June. I start crying, choking over the words as I say them: “Did you ever think maybe you’re not good enough for her, either? Did you ever think that Gabe is just more than you—that he’s everything Rowan wants and you aren’t?”

I barely mean the words even as I say them. I’m just so hurt. Harrison’s features shift into something terrifying, and I open my mouth to take back what I’ve said, but then his arms are coming at me, his gloved hands at my throat, pressing against me. Tighter, tighter. The room spins. The green of the table whirls together with the reds and yellows and oranges of the billiard balls. I’m slipping somewhere I don’t want to go—but I can’t get a breath in, the dusty air barely makes it down my throat with him squeezing it so hard. My knees buckle beneath me and down, down I go, onto the floor, everything growing darker, darker.