Broken Juliet(86)

I look up at him and try not to seem as desperate as I feel. “Just five minutes?”

“If I stay here for even one more minute, I’m going to forget all the reasons I shouldn’t make love to you. If I do that, I’ll have no chance of getting on that plane tomorrow, and my agent would murder me, and possibly you. So I’m going.” He doesn’t move.

“Okay.”

“Tell me you’ll miss me.”

“I’ll miss you like crazy.”

He lets out a long breath and grazes his fingers down my face. “See you next week.”

“Okay.”

I watch as he goes to the elevator and pushes the button. Then I watch him step inside and wave as the doors close.

I stare at those elevator doors for a long time.

They don’t reopen.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR


ENCORE


Three Years Earlier

Westchester, New York

The Grove


The shower water runs cold, and I realize I’ve been pressing my forehead to the tiles for a really long time. I get out, wrap myself in my robe, and crawl into bed.

I’ve barely left it for the past three days. Barely eaten.

Ruby is spending the week in Hawaii with her rich Australian boyfriend, so I don’t even have her to kick my ass. I haven’t told her about Ethan. I can’t.

She warned me this would happen. I should have listened.

My phone rings, and I check caller ID before ignoring it.

It’s him.

Again.

He’s called dozens of times, but I never answer. I don’t know what he thinks I possibly have to say. It’s not like I could change his mind. I don’t even think I want to anymore.

Fuck him.

Fuck him and all the ways I still love him.

When it stops ringing, I call the local pizza place and order a large pie with everything. I figure if I’m going to spend the evening wallowing, I need the appropriate supplies.

Half an hour later, there’s a knock on the door, and my stomach rumbles. God bless thirty minutes or less.

I stop dead when I open the door to find Ethan standing there with my pizza. Every hair on my body stand on end at the sight of him. I want to be hard and unaffected that he’s here, but I’m not. My heart races as my numbness begins to fade.

He holds out the box. “I … paid the guy for you.”

I snatch it from him with trembling hands.

“Oh, you paid for my pizza? Well, that makes up for you being the world’s biggest bastard. Thanks.”

I shove the door, but he stops it with his hand. “Cassie, please—”

“Let go.” He has to leave. Now. Before I fall apart.

He steps forward so his body is blocking the door. “I’m leaving tomorrow. I came to say good-bye.”

Just the word is enough to bring me to the edge of tears.

Good-bye.

Not “See you later,” or “See you tomorrow,” or even “I’ll call you.”

Good-bye.

I turn away and fight for air as I take the pizza to the table. I don’t invite him in, but he comes anyway. When the door clicks shut behind him, I clench my jaw so hard, my teeth grind.

I don’t turn around. If he has something to say, he can say it to my back. My face will give everything away.

“I know you don’t want to see me, and I know I’ve hurt you, it’s just that … f*ck, Cassie, I never wanted it to end like this. Ever. But there’s only so much you can watch someone sacrifice before you realize they’re changing who they are for you, and not in a good way. You were perfect how you were. I’m hoping that when I’m gone, you can go back to that.”

I can’t respond. He doesn’t get it. Doesn’t understand that by trying to make me better, he’s only making me worse.

I drag in a breath and hate that it contains a sob.

“Cassie…”

Then, he’s wrapping his arms around me. I don’t mean to turn in to his chest, but I do, and then I’m not numb at all. I’m a heaving mess of pain and regret, and although I can’t really comprehend that this is the end for us, my heart is telling me it is.

“Cassie … God, please don’t cry. Please…”

He cups my face and dries my tears. His lips are on my forehead, and my cheek, and it makes me furious that despite everything, he still feels so good.

“Cassie…” He kisses me softly on the lips. Once. Twice. I grip his shirt. Press against the skin beneath. He kisses me a third time, and I don’t let him retreat. I kiss him violently. Give him some of my bitterness. He tightens his arms around me and doesn’t even pretend he doesn’t know what’s going on.

He does.

We both do.

As we get rougher and more desperate, we both know this is the only good-bye we’ll have. Words are no good to us. They never were. They’re useful at communicating everything that’s wrong with us, but this is the only way to express why we’re so right.

It’s not going to make him stay, and it’s not going to make it hurt less. It’s just going to give us both one last glimpse of what might have been if our story was a romance instead of a tragedy.

We tug and pull at each other as we stumble down the hallway and into my bedroom. Half his clothes are already off. The rest don’t last long. My robe hits the floor. He’s not gentle when he lays me down and buries his head between my thighs. There’s a desperation in him that I haven’t seen since the night before he broke up with me the first time, and I know it’s because he already has one foot out the door.