Lovegame(116)

I told myself that I came back to L.A. just to make sure that she’s okay.

I told myself that that was all that mattered. That whatever was going to happen between us was going to happen and I couldn’t force it. Any more than I could go back to the time before everything went to hell.

But that was before I saw her, before I was close enough to look in her eyes and see the pain she’s trying so hard to hide. And well, f*ck that. Just f*ck that.

Yes, I lied to her. Yes, I originally had an agenda when I set up that Vanity Fair interview. But that agenda went by the wayside pretty damn quickly after meeting her and I am not going to let her throw away everything that we could have because I f*cked up. She deserves more than that and maybe, just maybe, so do I.

I’m just taking out my phone to check and see if there’s another update when a car rolls slowly up the driveway. It doesn’t look like Veronica’s normal car, and for a moment I’m afraid she’s brought a man home with her. My heart drops to my knees and I stand up, fists clenched by my sides. No way is she doing this. No way am I going to let her go in that house with another man. She’s mine and the sooner she comes to understand that fact, the better off we’ll both be.

A month ago, I’d be freaking out at such thoughts, worried that I was turning into some kind of psychopathic stalker like my brother. But f*ck that, too. Veronica is mine and there’s nothing even vaguely sociopathic about it.

The car stops at the top of the driveway and I realize it’s not some strange guy’s car after all. It’s the limo that dropped her off in front of the theater tonight. Thank God.

She gets out in the center of a pool of light and for long seconds I forget how to breathe. She’s so beautiful. So goddamn beautiful that sometimes it’s impossible to do anything but stare at her.

But as she turns around and begins the walk up the winding pathway to the front door, she looks more than beautiful. She looks ethereal. Fragile, even, now that she’s been stripped of the armor she wore so well while on the red carpet. Up close I can see that she’s lost weight she couldn’t afford to lose, and now that her makeup has worn off I can see the dark circles under her eyes.

It’s obvious she’s been in hell these last few weeks and the fact that I am at least partially responsible for that is a shame I will take with me to my grave.

I have to fix this. If I do, maybe I’ll finally manage to fix both of us, as well.

“Veronica.” I say her name as I start to step out of the shadows, doing my best not to startle her.

She jumps anyway, her clutch falling to the ground at her feet. She doesn’t scream and at first I think it’s because she recognizes my voice. But then I get my first look at her face and realize that isn’t the case at all. She didn’t know it was me waiting here for her. She just didn’t care enough to scream.

The realization chills me in a way nothing ever has before—and considering who I have for a brother, that’s saying something.

“Veronica, it’s me,” I tell her, bounding down the steps until I, too, am in the light. In those moments as I’m walking toward her, her face goes from resigned to devastated. Watching it—watching her—breaks something inside of me, something I didn’t even know could be broken.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” I say as I crouch to pick up her purse. “I’m so sorry.”

She refuses to take it when I hold it out to her, as if just my touch is poisonous. “You need to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere. We need to talk.”

“I think we’ve done all the talking we’re going to,” she says as she walks around me to the front door. “Go home, Ian.”

“You are my home.”

“Then go away. There’s nothing for you here.” She opens the front door, slips inside. Starts to close it in my face.

I stop it with a hand, push my way inside.

“Damn it, Ian.”

“Damn it, Veronica, I’m not going to let you shut me out.” I close the door behind me, then reach for the light switch I remember is next to the door.

She looks even more fragile in the soft light. But her voice is strong when she says, “I already have.”

“Well, tough shit. We’re going to work this out.”

“There’s nothing to work out. We f*cked each other and then we f*cked each other over. What else is there to say?”

“You’ve got that wrong and you know it. I’m the only one who f*cked up. That’s why I’m here. I want to fix it.”

“Some things can’t be fixed.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You mean you don’t want to believe it. You want to ride in here on your white horse and fix us. Well, sorry, baby, but that just ain’t gonna happen.”

“Let me try.”

“No.” She walks down the hall and doesn’t stop until she gets to the bar. Unlike the last time we were standing here together, she has no trouble deciding what to drink tonight. She goes straight for the whiskey and she only pours one glass.

“I’m an ass,” I tell her as she downs the whiskey in one long swallow. “But you have to believe that I never meant to hurt you.”

“Bullshit.” She pours herself another glass.

“I swear. If I had known how things would work out—”