The Grand Pact (The Grand Men #1)(79)
“I’m not. I just want you to experience this like you wanted to.”
All I wanted to do was make them proud. Now I’m in a city I don’t truly know, and he wants to cut me off.
“I’m going to go.” I sniff, wiping at my face.
“Will you do something for me?” he asks, his eyes shining—wild and lost.
“What?”
“Call the girls. I know you don’t want to speak to me right now, but I can’t stand the idea of you being upset.”
He’s all I want right now.
How does he not know that?
“Goodbye, Elliot.”
“Luce—”
I hang up the phone and immediately break down. My shoulders shake as I fall forward on the sofa.
I want to go home.
I want to go back to how things were.
Back before I fell in love with him.
Monday morning hurts worse than I could have imagined. I barely slept last night. Everything Elliot said to me replayed like a broken record in my mind, evoking all the emotions that I felt in the moment over and over again.
I wondered if he was awake. I wondered how someone can go from caring so much, being at the other end of the phone and sharing intimate moments with them, to then just stop and say no more. I wondered if he felt the way I did. I wondered if he was already with someone else.
That one hurt the most.
I’ve felt so strong for weeks. Living in New York has been an eye-opener, but I’ve been doing it. I’m surviving. Despite the way I let things twist me up inside, I did what I said I would do.
Why does he think he’s getting in the way of that?
It feels like an excuse. When I said I wanted to do this alone, I meant it. I want that independence. But that doesn’t mean I want to cut off my lifelines. Elliot knows how much I need him.
Surely living in this city alone is enough for them all?
Are they not proud of me?
Are they all sitting at home, thinking I’m not doing it right because I’m building something with Elliot?
I pull myself out of bed and head to work early. I arrive at eight and find my desk filled with a list of to-dos.
The girls arrive just before nine, and I go out of my way to avoid having to chat with them over coffee, pretending I’m too busy to stop. I’m pretty sure I have bags under my eyes, and if anyone asks me if I’m okay, I might ball my eyes out.
I work through lunch, not wanting to stop and think.
By the time five thirty rolls around, my feet are throbbing, and my stomach is growling at me. I leave the office and walk down the street, not paying any mind to anyone around me.
I don’t have anything waiting for me back at the house, and I don’t want to sit on my own all night. The girls are probably busy, although I don’t feel like checking in with them. It hurts, but London seems like a side, and I’m not on it.
I walk to the nearest shop and buy a sandwich and a bunch of flowers, knowing I won’t be able to lay them. Then I walk to the chapel. One of the only places I don’t feel alone.
I don’t check my phone until hours later when I get home. Nina has called and texted me, but I don’t reply in case I wake her up. Elliot has sent a message, but I don’t even open it, knowing I need to sleep. I’ll call my mum first thing. She will be able to make me feel better without even trying.
I’ve called into work sick for the second day running.
Two days since the phone call with Elliot, and everything feels like it’s getting worse. The sadness inside of me seems to outshine the day’s existence, and all I want is to go home.
But what I want more than that is to be stronger. To stop feeling like an anxious mess whenever my life’s routine changes.
I didn’t get out of bed yesterday other than to eat, and when I did, I carried it back to my bed. I’m ignoring my friends, and I know they will worry. But I also know that Elliot will tell someone what happened. He doesn’t keep anything to himself. He would’ve told Mason, and Mason would have told Nina.
Nina: Right. Last chance or I’m flying out Luce: I’m okay
Luce: Promise
Luce: Give me a day or two. Please.
Nina: No you’re worrying me. Why won’t you talk to me!
I don’t reply to her most recent message, hoping she reads it back and knows that I mean what I say. Because I will be fine. I’m always fine. It just takes a couple days of bone-aching reality. At least, I think it’s real. It’s like all the bad thoughts stolen from my best days unload in one giant pile in my brain.
Brain tip day.
Pickup time: Unknown.
But I will be fine.
It’s Friday night, and I’m on my way home from another afternoon and evening at the chapel. It’s become my go-to spot when I need to get out of the house, and I know Ralph would appreciate me visiting.
I’m pretty sure the majority of New York will be out, partying and feeling alive on this Friday night, but I can’t think of anything worse.
I feel alone.
Which is a me problem because I have an entire family at home who have been calling me all week.
My steps are unhurried as I walk down my street and towards the house. The whole street is super quiet, and that makes it hard because I want to love it here. And I have loved New York so far, but the last few days have been the hardest by a mile.