Beholden (The Belonging Duet, #2)(45)
“What? I don’t understand. All Jackson said was he needed to talk to you, but you wouldn’t answer his calls. Why would you come home?”
I huff and shove away my disgust. “I need to handle this f*cking party and tomorrow when I wake up, we’ll talk. I love you, Ash. But I have to go to work.”
She lets out a long breath. I know she needs more information, but right now, I don’t have it. “This doesn’t sound like you, but answer me this: On a scale of one to ring the alarm, what are we at?”
“Let’s say the alarm is ringing and I’ll need someone to break the f*cking bell.”
“Okay, great, so we’re talking nuclear. And you’re sure you don’t want to talk to me now?” she asks carefully.
“If you want a preview of what our conversation will be, watch the press conference for Raven. Be sure to get some popcorn, because it’s quite a show.”
“Okay, but that doesn’t explain where Jackson comes in.”
“Oh, but it does. Ashton, I need to pretend my life didn’t go from amazing to shit. Let’s just say its broken and there isn’t a way it can ever go back together. I have to go to this f*cking party and smile, so please don’t make me cry right now,” I say, trying to control my emotions, but my voice slips when I explain how broken we are. There’s no fixing this.
“So we’re talking about calling in Gretchen and removing all knives from the apartment. Got it. I love you, Cat. I’m always on your side. I know you don’t want to hear it, but nothing is ever broken beyond repair.” Ashton’s voice is the only thing keeping me from falling to the ground right now.
I take a step into the building and hold on to the knowledge that this won’t kill me. I’ll survive this.
“I love you and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Entering the elevator, I find a way to get myself under control. I slip into another role. The one where I’m on stage and need to perform. I can do this. I just need to breathe and remember I can fall apart later. This entire night will need to be an Oscar-worthy performance, only I won’t be accepting any awards. Because in the end no one wins anything here.
I hesitate at the door as the turmoil rages like a war within. I’ve been living here for almost a month and this makes me question everything. Do I knock? Do I use my key? I’m not sure of anything since I no longer feel like I belong here.
Fuck it. He didn’t really give a shit about boundaries, so why should I?
“Catherine?” Jackson calls out when the door closes behind me as he comes around the corner. “Catherine, please.”
I put my hand up letting him know I can’t listen to him. The sound of his voice is making me feel ill. “If you want me to remain civil at all, you’ll shut up. You’ll find a way to respect me in this moment and allow me to get through this. I’m getting my things and I have to work tonight, Mr. Cole.”
He stops and I can see how much my words affect him. “You’re not even going to let me talk, are you?”
“No. The time for talking was months ago. Today, I’m going to f*cking work!” I skirt past him into the guest room and slam the door. My back rests against it and I slide down with tears streaming silently. Dammit, I wasn’t going to cry.
He’s hurt me so much more than I can ever explain. Seeing him standing there with the pain in his eyes just shattered anything left inside of me. He lied to me. Even if he’s not married anymore, he never told me. All this time. The months, the countless nights I’ve been at his side, never once did he mention it. Not only that, his friends and family never said a word. I gave him my non-negotiables and he broke one anyway. I feel like a damn fool.
I hear his walker moving back and forth on the other side of the door. It stops and then moves again. He knocks twice but I don’t answer. I need to get ready. Removing the dress from the bag, I wipe the tears from my face. No more crying. Show mode time. I put the beautiful dress on and pin my hair up allowing the low back to be seen. Trying to fix my makeup is more of a challenge. Each time I apply eyeliner, another tear falls without permission. After a few minutes and a lot of counting to ten, I manage to make myself look decent. It took a shit-ton of concealer and waterproof mascara.
Once my shoes are on, I open the door and he’s leaning against the wall staring at me. His blue-green eyes are hollow as he takes me in. “You should get ready, Mr. Cole. You have an event in an hour.”
“Stop it,” Jackson says, taking a step toward me, but I retreat. His eyes go wide when he sees my reaction. “I tried to tell you a hundred times.”
“Apparently, you didn’t understand what I asked from you. I don’t want to f*cking hear it!” I scream and close my eyes releasing a breath through my nose. “I won’t have this conversation with you tonight. I have a job to do and you’ve had plenty of chances to talk before. You need to let me go to this party and smile, telling everyone how wonderful you are. Even though right now I want to punch you in the face.”
“Punch me, hit me, I don’t care, but we need to work this out. You walk away tonight I know you’re not coming back. I can’t—” Jackson pleads but I cut him off as if he didn’t speak.
“I have to look charming, happy, and not like my boyfriend just destroyed my entire world. Not like the man I spent weeks by his bedside praying he would live just single handedly killed me. Or like the hero I thought I had turned out to be a traitor. Does that sum up the emotions I’m feeling right now? Do I need to go on? No? Good. Go put your tuxedo on. If you could do it in this room so I can pack my things, I would appreciate it.”