Say the Word(60)
“And there’s no possibility of a future toge—”
“No.” I cut him off. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be burdening you with this.”
“Hey,” he said, reaching out and entwining his hand with mine. “Don’t worry about it, Lux. I know all about first loves — they’re complicated and messy, and they rarely end well. I understand if you need some time and space to sort out your thoughts.” He took a deep breath. “And maybe I’m an idiot for telling you this while you’re in the process of breaking up with me, but I’d be an even bigger idiot for walking away without telling you that I think you’re amazing. I’ve never met someone like you before. And I’m not saying we’ll be able to just put things on hold and pick them up exactly where we left off. But maybe in a few weeks or a few months, when you’ve figured things out… give me a call.”
I felt my chest swell with feeling. He was seriously the perfect guy. Something was definitely, fundamentally, inexplicably wrong with me for walking away from him right now and sabotaging the only shot I had at happiness. Any girl in the world would be lucky to give her heart to a man like Desmond, because he was one of the rare men out there who’d be sure to treasure it forever.
But I’d given my heart away a long time ago, and I’d never gotten it back.
He cupped my face between his hands and dropped a kiss onto my forehead. I squeezed my eyes shut, unsurprised when tears escaped beneath the lashes and tracked down my cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Don’t be,” he whispered back. “I’m not. And… maybe someday.”
“Maybe someday,” I echoed quietly as he walked out the door, my mind a messy snare of conflicting thoughts. If I moved on, if I loved someone else — even if it wasn’t the epic, once-in-a-lifetime kind of love I’d shared with Sebastian — was I betraying the memory of that love? Would loving a man like Desmond detract from the memory of my love with Sebastian?
And, the real question: did I want it to?
Because those memories, though they gave me pain, were a part of us. A part of me.
Maybe I wasn’t the kind of girl who wanted a simple love, with the joys of shared conversations and mutual interests. Maybe I didn’t want Valentine’s Day cards, a chore wheel to split up domestic tasks, or nothing-fights in the supermarket about whether or not there was any laundry detergent left at home.
No.
Maybe instead, I wanted the kind of love that devastates you. The kind that rips your insides open and leaves you gutted, out in the cold. Maybe I wanted that great, epic, once-in-a-lifetime love, that consumes with the brightest of flames. And maybe, even though I knew the hottest fires often burn out the fastest, even though it couldn’t last… it was worth it.
People say love isn’t supposed to be painful. But maybe the best things in life are the ones that hurt the most after they’re gone.
***
The next day at work was better and worse, all at once.
It was better because Sebastian wasn’t there. Whether his absence had anything to do with our scene on the table after hours last night, I had no idea — and, frankly, I didn’t want to. Seeing him would only add to the tangled bird’s nest of thoughts and emotions I’d yet to begin to unravel.
It was worse because, without Sebastian there to rein her in, Cara was more demanding than ever. After another morning spent doing coffee runs for her and her friends — seriously, pumping that much artificial vanilla sweetener into a latte could not be good for you — Cara decided that I could run the rest of her errands while I was at it.
“Here’s my grocery list,” she said, staring down at me from her perch on a director’s chair in the fitting area. “Go to Whole Foods, then bring everything to my apartment. My address is on the list. I’ve already called the concierge — he’s expecting you.” She smiled at me, extending the list with one manicured hand.
“I’m not doing your grocery shopping, Cara.”
“What’s that?” she asked. “Did I hear someone protesting? Because I’m pretty sure I have your boss’ number right here in my phone. Want me to call her? Give her a little progress report on your work ethic?”
I glared at her, watching as her finger scrolled through her contact list and hovered over Jeanine’s name.
“I’m sure she’ll be upset to hear about your performance as a Luster representative.” Cara shook her head in faux sadness. “Such a shame for you to lose your job over a little laundry.”
“Laundry?” I bit out between clenched teeth.
“Oh, yes. I’ll need you to pick up my dry cleaning as well. Didn’t I mention that before?” She smiled at me maliciously.
“No,” I snapped, snatching the sheet of paper from her grasp. “You didn’t.”
“My mistake.” Her tinkling laugher filled the air, mocking me. “I’d hurry up, if I were you. It’s already past noon, and you’ve got a full day of errands to keep you busy!” She clapped her hands together excitedly, like a giddy child.
I turned to go, defeated. Cara might look like a total bimbo, but apparently she possessed enough brains to blackmail me. If she called Jeanine, I had no doubt I’d be out of a job. And no job meant no paycheck, so I’d be out of my apartment and living on the streets in a matter of weeks.