I need to face the consequences like a grownup.
My throat is dry, eyes are burning. “I’m really sorry,” is all I can manage. “I wrote it in the beginning of us. When I was in denial that this was something important and special. I would write it very differently now.” I move to the bed under Tobias’s watchful eyes, open the laptop and hand it to Banks. “Read it. Whatever you need to do, I’ll understand.”
I leave the room, closing the door behind me.
The house looks very different now. Dimmer. More ominous. There’s no laughter or movement. The low murmur of voices behind me causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand up, my skin prickling with dread. There is a severe urge to bolt tickling the soles of my feet that I’m trying to ignore. Tobias hates me right now. Gabe and Banks could very likely follow in his footsteps. Avoidance would be so easy. Leaving now and pretending the whole thing never happened. My insides will be a shipwreck without them, but I know from experience that if I pretend to be aloof about something long enough, eventually I will convince myself that it’s true.
Do I want to do that, though?
Do I want to be aloof over these men? Or do I want to leave my floodgates open and take whatever comes because they deserve to be treasured? Because the way they make me feel deserves to be celebrated?
Yes.
Yes.
I decided to stick and that’s what I’m going to do.
My heart won’t allow me to run this time. I’m in deep, times three.
No running this time, Elise.
My phone buzzes in my hand and I quickly tilt the device so I can see the screen. Finally, Karina is texting me back. Thank God. I need to get the article pulled immediately…
* * *
Karina: Got your text and email. I understand you’ve had a change of heart about the article. Pity. It’s utterly absorbing. Unfortunately, like I said, I’m not in the office today and I can’t get a hold of Lisette. I’ve managed to have the online version delayed, but the physical paper gets sent to the printers at six. I’ll do my best to track her down between meetings.
* * *
That’s not good enough.
I need it stopped.
It’s three forty right now. If I leave this very second, I can make it to the Times by four thirty. That would give them an hour and a half to remove the article and replace it with something else. I physically cannot bear the idea of that article going out into the world. I don’t care if Karina thinks it’s good. Those words on the page were lies I told myself. They aren’t good enough for Gabe and Banks and Tobias. I can’t let them get printed.
I pocket my phone and glance toward Gabe’s bedroom door.
Will they even care if I leave right now?
My heart tells me yes—and I desperately want to believe that.
But I can’t run the chance of them preventing me from leaving. They might tell me it’s not worth the risk right now when the situation with Alexander and Crouch is still unresolved. They might not understand this is something I have to do.
Might as well admit what terrifies me the most, though.
They won’t care if I leave.
I take a step toward the bedroom door and my stomach shrinks in on itself, preventing me from going any closer. I don’t deserve to go in there and crawl into Gabe’s lap and cry until they forgive me. That’s not the kind of woman I am, either. I’m going to make myself earn their forgiveness. I’m going to make this right and show them how much my heart has changed since I wrote that article.
Resolved, I order an Uber, relieved when one pops up two minutes away. Gathering my things as quietly as possible, I leave them to come to terms with what I’ve done.
I leave the house to do damage control.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Tobias
* * *
I feel as though I’ve been doused in ice water.
My skin is cold and clammy. I can’t seem to sit still.
I’m pacing while Banks and Gabe read the article, refusing to acknowledge the prongs of dread that dig themselves deeper into my chest with every passing second. I do not like how sad Elise looked when she walked out of this room. I am growing increasingly seasick over it. But I remind myself of those words, how they ridiculed me in stark black and white. Egomaniacal porn star. Shallow. When I confronted my manager about him buying the rights to my catalogue out from under me, profiting off my name and years of work, he said something along the same lines as Elise. That I was a human dick joke.
Seeing them from Elise’s point of view hurt infinitely worse—and I didn’t think that was possible. But of course it is.