Cruel Fortune (Cruel #2)(67)

“My last girlfriend took the money. Alicia. The one my sisters hate. I thought that he wouldn’t do that to you because I’m clearly in love with you.”

I took a step back in horror at the words. At the way he’d used them to try to get out of this argument. When I was seething and not blissfully happy. When I wasn’t ready to hear those words. Right now, it was the last thing I wanted to hear. The last thing I could even deal with.

“Well, he did. I told him to go fuck himself and that I didn’t need or want your stupid money. Because I don’t. But I did want the truth,” I told him. My features turned to stone. “And you couldn’t seem to give me that.”

“Natalie…”

“Just don’t. I’ve heard enough for one night. I wanted this on my own,” I said. I hated that my throat was tight with unshed tears. “I was so proud of my accomplishments. But you tarnished it all. So, I’m going to walk home right now. And you are going to let me.”

“Please,” he said, stepping toward me. “Please, Natalie. Don’t go like this. Don’t leave angry.”

“That is entirely your fault and not mine,” I said before I tucked my hands into my pockets and headed toward my apartment.

I thought he’d follow, even when I’d told him not to. But he didn’t.

And when I glanced back, he was gone.

I sank into a park bench, tucked my legs underneath me, covered my face, and cried. I hadn’t cried in a long time. A very long time. I hated it and how weak and vulnerable it made me feel.

But this wasn’t just about a boy. Or even his father’s accusation.

This was about the death of my one perfect moment for my book. A matter of minutes had stripped it back to its bare bones. Merit hadn’t won me that contract. It might have won me everything that came next, but now, there was a hole in it all. A black hole sucking the life out of everything that came after. I burrowed down deep, sinking into my own inadequacies. It showed me that this book was like all the others before it. Only I’d had a Warren push it through.

And I didn’t like the rancid taste of it when I saw it from that angle.

My feet dropped back onto the sidewalk. I should go home. Deal with all of this in the morning. Being alone in Central Park wasn’t my smartest move, but at the same time, I wasn’t ready to return to my sad one-bedroom. I’d go home, crack open a container of icing, and cry.

I turned my feet in the opposite direction. Back toward the Upper East Side. It was closer than continuing to the Upper West. I turned left and headed north toward the MET. Streetlights and taxicabs illuminated my way. For a Tuesday night, the traffic was insane. The traffic was always insane.

It was easier to think about the traffic than to deal with the real issues. With Lewis and his dad and my career. Just thinking of those made me want to scream.

I pulled my phone out for another distraction and almost immediately regretted it. I had two missed calls from Lewis and a text message. I clicked off of them. I didn’t want to read his apologies and excuses right now. Because I knew that was what it would be.

Maybe I’d be able to hear it when I calmed down. This moment? Not so much.

Finally, I stopped and looked around. I’d been walking for a while. I didn’t exactly know where I was. Then I looked up at the light on in the apartment at the top of the building I was in front of.

I froze, realizing exactly where I was.

My fingers pulled up the number that I’d thought about blocking more times than I could count. But never had. I hovered over it. Indecision written through me. Then, I pressed Call.

I waited three rings before a male voice answered, “Natalie?”

“Are you home?”

“Yeah,” he said tentatively. “Is everything all right?”

“Can I come up?”

“What? Right now?” he asked, flummoxed.

“Yeah. I’m…I’m downstairs.”

“Uh…yeah. Come on up.”

“Thanks,” I muttered. “See you in a minute.”

“Natalie, are you sure you’re all right?”

“No, no, I’m not.”

Then, I hung up the phone and walked into the building to take the elevator up to Penn’s apartment.





Natalie





29





I should have been nervous, but somehow, I wasn’t. Not with Penn. He’d put me through the wringer, but being around him had always been so easy. Even back when we’d first met in Paris.

The elevator opened to his apartment, and I waited for the memories to assault me. But, before I could even process them, a small Italian greyhound bounded off the couch and vaulted straight at me.

Totle.

He knocked me so far off-balance that I actually tumbled backward. He just figured it was easier to smother me with kisses that way. His thin body pressed against me, and he wagged not just his tail, but also his entire body. His unbelievably long legs for a ten-pound dog tried to find purchase in my arms, and his wet nose brushed my cheek. He barked at me once, and then he was licking my face as if not a day had passed since I lived with him.

Tears welled in my eyes. Fuck, I was emotional. But I really hadn’t realized how much I had missed him. Maybe all I needed was puppy therapy. I snuggled him tight against me.