Kiss the Sky (Addicted #3)(128)

I open my mouth, but she cuts me off with a raised hand.

“Let me finish. There’s something else.” She grabs a tissue, sniffs, and walks around her desk.

She sits in the chair next to me.

And just by the serious, tortured look on her face—I know there’s no way to prepare for her words. I can’t anticipate anything she’s going to say.

So I grip the armrest, I clench my teeth, and I brace myself.

I don’t want to fall.

I never have before.



* * *



I feel blindsided.

My whole life I always made sure I knew every possible path, every probability and what if so that I wasn’t ever assaulted by this feeling. And today, I wake up and there it is.

The path I never saw coming.

I left Cobalt Inc. with this insane thing ripping through my chest. I thought about calling Frederick, but there’s only one person I want to see. And it’s not my therapist.

The Calloway Couture loft is crammed with people and boxes, bustling around with fervent urgency. A dramatic change from months ago. Her company is still in flux. She won’t know how the sex tape will impact it until a few weeks pass.

I find Rose in her glass-walled office in the back. She subconsciously touches the bruise on her cheek, concealed with makeup, as she scans her computer screen. I enter quickly and shut the door.

She springs to her feet in an instant upon seeing me. “What’s wrong?” Her fingers touch the corners of my eyes, as if she needs to feel my tears to know they’re real. I don’t blame her. I did the same f*cking thing.

I don’t remember the last time I cried. But it was probably over something trivial. A grade. An accomplishment I didn’t fully succeed. The things that used to matter to me. I never cried over a person until now.

“Hold on,” Rose chokes, worry coating her voice. She moves swiftly, drawing cream curtains closed so that her employees can’t see into her office.

I take a seat on her white couch, another breathtaking view through the window. This time New York City. And then Rose sinks down on the cushion, turning her body towards mine.

She rubs my leg. “Connor…”

I take her hand in mine, lacing our fingers together slowly. I try to speak, to let it out, but I shake my head and pinch my eyes as they outflow. Why is this so hard? Why do real emotions have to be so devastating? Why do they have to cripple me?

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”

But I do. I need to f*cking say it. “I hate her…” I start. The first thing that comes out of my mouth is impudent and juvenile. I can’t take it back. I just keep going. “I hate that she has continued to blind me. No matter how wide I open my eyes, there’s been a haze that only she could clear. And she made me believe that I was walking in the f*cking clear sky.” I pinch my eyes again, and I actually scream, one that burns my throat. “I am so—”

“Don’t you dare say stupid,” she snaps. “You’re not stupid, Richard.”

“I feel like an idiot,” I tell her. “I was fooled by my own mother for two f*cking years, Rose. Two years, and she couldn’t find it in her heart to tell her only son that she has breast cancer? That she’s dying?” My throat swells as the truth bears down on me. “She made me believe I’d be taking over Cobalt Inc. in five years, maybe ten. And this whole time, she knew I’d be taking it in two months.”

Rose’s mouth falls. “Two…months?”

“Two months. That’s how long she has left.” I extend my arms. “And she didn’t think it was important to tell me.”

Not until now. She was scared. I saw the fear in her eyes at her office. It’s why she’s been regretting and remembering the past. And yet, I can’t pity her. I can’t wish her farewell.

I only hate that it took death for her to see her mistakes.

And I hate that it’s taken me the same to see mine.

I unlace my fingers from Rose, and I hold her one hand in between two of mine, just staring at them for a while. I call her stubborn, but in the past year and a half, I’ve been worse.

I meet those fierce yellow-green eyes. Even in the wake of my pain, she has this resilience that’s more beautiful than words can describe. It’s fire to my water. And I want her to burn me alive.

“You’re the only one who has ever loved me,” I confess, my chest heavy. “Not a mother. Not a father. Not a friend. Just you, Rose.” All these years, I never thought I’d need anyone but me to survive. My mother thought the same.

I was wrong.

“I don’t want to be sixty years old and wishing I opened myself up to the people I care about. I don’t want to look back and regret that I wasn’t a better friend or a better man to the woman I adore.”

She’s already crying. I haven’t even said it yet.

Tears fall down her cheeks, matching mine.

“And I can’t tell you how long I’ve been fighting the truth, but it’s been awhile,” I say.

The next words come from the core of my chest. Each word is like taking on water and breathing in oxygen—a paradox that I enjoy very much.

“I am so deeply in love with you, Rose.” I wipe her cheeks with my thumb.

She tries to smile but every time she does, more tears fall. I can tell they’re from a place of joy by the way her eyes light. And then she says, “Ca vous a pris pas mal de temps.” It took you long enough.