Regret. “Do you want to know another secret, Stella?” My voice was unrecognizable in its rawness. “I can’t say no to you.” Not when it came to the things that mattered. “But I will always be here if you need me, no matter how far in distance or time. I don’t care if we’re on different continents or if it’s five, fifty years in the future. I never want you to wake up and feel like you’re alone because you’re not. You’ll always have me.” My eyes burned as my final, greatest truth scraped up my throat. “I love you. So fucking much.” I thought saying those words for the first time would feel strange. They didn’t. They felt like they’d been waiting to find their home all these years and found it in her. Stella squeezed her eyes shut. A broken sob bled through her lips, but otherwise, she didn’t respond to my confession. It was what I’d expected, but agony twisted my gut nonetheless. I allowed myself to look at her one last time before I walked out and closed the door behind me. There was nothing else to say. I ignored Alex and Ava’s curious stares as I left the apartment, my body numb. Pieces of my heart were scattered all over her room, and my mind had devolved into an endless loop of her tears. Even the blood seemed to have vanished from my veins, leaving nothing but cold emptiness behind. There was nothing left of me when I took out all the parts that belonged to her. I’m asking you to leave me alone, Christian. Leaving went against my every instinct. Every molecule of my body demanded I stay and fight for her, to beg and plead until she forgave me. But I had already crossed too many boundaries with her, and I couldn’t cross another one. Not when she’d explicitly asked me not to. I’d meant what I said. I would give Stella anything she wanted, even if it killed me in the process.
42
STELLA
I waited until the door shut behind him before I collapsed. Sobs wracked my body as I sank onto the floor and finally let the full flood of my tears flow. I love you. So fucking much. The words echoed in my head like a taunt, as did the image of Christian’s face before he left. The agony in his eyes. The torment in his voice. The brokenness that I felt as surely as if it were my own because it was. My heart had splintered into a thousand jagged pieces, and they cut and cut
until I couldn’t stop bleeding. It was very possible I might die right there, with my knees drawn to my chest and my trust in shambles. I believed he was sorry, and I believed he loved me in whatever way he knew how. But they didn’t change the fact that our relationship had been built on a lie. He knew how much the stalker had traumatized me. How much I hated the invasion of privacy and loss of control over my own life. Christian did what he did before the stalker showed up, but he’d sat on those files for years and never told me. He’d held all the cards while I held only the scraps he gave me. Our power imbalance wasn’t about money or security; it was about trust. I’d always given more than I received from him. The thought of him sitting at his desk and poking through the most intimate parts of my life with a mere press of a button sent another shiver down my spine. I pulled my legs tighter to my chest and buried my face in my knees. I’m so, so stupid. I’d seen all the warning signs and ignored them because I’d been too caught up in the excitement of falling in love for the first time. I will always be here if you need me. I should’ve been happy Christian was gone. Instead, my heart hollowed in my chest while a barrage of memories played in my head. Get in the car, Stella. I’ve never wanted anyone more, and I’ve never hated myself more for it. Because love is ordinary. Mundane. And you, Stella…you’re extraordinary. I believe in everything when it comes to you. One week ago, we’d been in Italy, and we’d been happy. Part of me wished I’d never stumbled across that secret compartment or looked through those files. Then we’d still be happy, and I wouldn’t be sitting in the ruins of what we used to be. Christian was the only safe space I had, and now he was gone. My gasping sobs filled the cocoon of my arms and legs. I’d been crying so hard and for so long that my ribs hurt and I couldn’t draw enough oxygen into my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t—I needed…
“Stella?” I heard Ava’s voice followed by a knock, but the sounds were muted, like they were traveling to me underwater. I was drowning in grief, and I didn’t know how to pull myself out. “It’s okay.” Ava’s voice was closer. She must’ve entered when I didn’t answer. “Oh, sweetie, it’ll be all right. I promise.” She wrapped her arms around me and rubbed soothing circles on my back while I leaned my head against her chest and cried until I ran out of tears. Part of me had anticipated this crash from the beginning. My relationship with Christian had been too perfect, and nothing that good could last forever. What I hadn’t anticipated was how much the crash would break me. But the most terrifying part wasn’t my broken heart. It was the possibility that I might never be able to glue the pieces back together again.
43
CHRISTIAN
“You’ve had seven drinks in two hours, bud.” The bartender stared at me with a dubious expression. “And I’m ordering an eighth.” I enunciated each word with cold precision. I didn’t slur or sway. I could be blackout drunk and no one would be the wiser. “You got a problem with that?” He held up his hands and shook his head. “It’s your liver.” Goddamn right. It was my liver and my money. I could do whatever the hell I wanted with them. I tossed back the glass he slid in my direction and drained it in a minute flat. The alcohol had stopped burning four drinks back,
and it tasted like water going down. It pissed me off. What was the point of alcohol if it didn’t numb the way it was supposed to? “Is this seat taken?” A blonde slid onto the stool next to mine before I could answer. Tiny dress. Long legs. Lips that would make Angelina Jolie cry with envy.
I didn’t spare her a second glance. “Not interested.” It was the same fucking thing every time.
Couldn’t a guy drink in peace without getting hounded? I could’ve saved myself the trouble and drank at home, but the apartment was too depressing these days. I also didn’t want to go to the Valhalla Club since everyone there was nosy as fuck. No one liked seeing a member down more than the other members. So here I was, holed up in some shitty dive bar near the office, drowning my sorrows in equally shitty scotch. If my liver rebelled, it wouldn’t be from the quantity of drinks. It would be from the quality of them. The offended blonde left in a huff, clearly unused to being rejected. Tough shit. It’d been two weeks since Stella and I broke up. Two weeks of unrelenting hell where everything reminded me of her. The blender she made her smoothies in, the tub where she’d bathed, the cafe where she bought her pastries. Even the fucking trees and plants outside reminded me of her. It was enough to make me want to lock myself in a dark concrete box and never come out. The jangle of bells above the entrance pulled me out of my pathetic self-pity and drew my attention to the door. My heart stopped. Dark curls. Green eyes.
Warm smile. Stella. For a second, I thought I was hallucinating and had conjured her from my thoughts. Then her voice wound toward me, as real and tangible as the cracked vinyl cushion of my stool and the muted baseball game playing on TV. I straightened, my spirits lifting until I saw the guy standing next to her. He looked vaguely familiar, and he said something that made her smile. My hand tightened around my glass as an icy black wave of possessiveness rippled through me. Whoever the guy was, I wanted to fucking kill him. My eyes tracked them as they sat at a table across the room. Stella hadn’t noticed me yet. She said something else to the soon-to-be dead fucker, but she must’ve felt the weight of my stare because she finally looked up. Our gazes collided like sparks in the air. Our relationship had turned to ashes, but the fire between us was still there, burning up space and oxygen until we were the only people left. My blood roared at the sweet relief of seeing her again. She asked me to leave her alone, and I had. Us showing up at the same bar on the same night would’ve been a coincidence, but nothing was a coincidence when it came to her. It was fate.