And I tore it all to shreds.
“It’s probably for the best.” I’m nodding slowly to myself, as if this might somehow convince me. “She’s too good for me, anyway.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Paul says. “The man who loves her is obviously the worst possible choice.”
I tense, gripping my phone tighter. “I never said I loved her.”
“Son,” Paul laughs. “You didn’t have to. No one feels this shitty about someone unless they love them.”
The suffocating emotions that I’ve been working so hard to suppress fill my head and my chest and everywhere else—my body feeling heavy and weary. Honestly, I’d just like to sleep for a while and forget.
“I’m going to have to let you go,” I tell Paul softly. “I have packing to do.”
Paul sighs, sounding weary himself. “For what it’s worth . . . I’m sorry, Noah. Truly.”
“Yeah,” I mumble. “So am I.”
I hang up without saying good-bye, immediately downing what’s left in my glass and shutting my eyes tight to focus only on the burn as it goes down. If I could go back—I would have never touched her. I would have never let myself know how soft she is, how warm . . . Maybe I would even go back to the beginning and tell her that it was a ridiculous idea, this plan of ours. I would face the board and take my punishment and that would be the end of it.
Except . . . I wouldn’t know what her laugh sounds like. I wouldn’t be able to recall the way her nose wrinkles when she’s thinking. The sweet softness of her scent that haunts me, even now. I wouldn’t know her, and I feel like that would be an even greater tragedy than losing her, to never know her at all.
I don’t remember getting to my feet, but I feel my body carrying me down the hall toward my bedroom before I even realize where I’m going. It only takes seconds to fall into my bed, to press my nose to the sheets and breathe in deep. It’s still there, almost as strong as the day she left it, and scenting her feels almost like touching her, like she’s brushing back my hair or sighing in my ear. It makes everything better. It makes everything worse. It makes the reality even more crushing, because I know I will never touch her again.
I roll away from my bed as fast as I can, pushing away from the mattress like it’s burned me and cursing myself for coming in here again when I promised myself I wouldn’t. I stomp toward the bedroom door, only to pause just inside it, turning back to glance at the sheets as memories of having her there beneath me taunt me in vivid recollection, making that suffocating feeling inside almost unbearable.
I close the door behind me, making myself another promise not to come back even while knowing I’ll probably break it. Again.
Time for another drink.
25
Mackenzie
“That’s it. We’re getting drinks tonight.”
I blink, remembering where I am, noticing Parker grimacing at me mindlessly stirring my soup. “What?”
“I actually cannot sit here and watch you space out like a depressed zombie for another day.”
“I’m not depressed,” I lie, frowning down into my soup as I stir more aggressively.
Parker rolls his eyes. “You’ve been giving me ‘Anne Hathaway in Les Misérables’ vibes for the past week, Mackenzie.”
“I don’t understand that reference,” I mumble.
“Well, I can’t help it if you refuse to culture yourself.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I’m serious. You’re making me depressed. I’m worried about you.”
My brow knits. “I’m seriously fine.”
If seriously fine means crying myself to sleep like some downtrodden heroine in a romantic comedy after being viciously dumped counts as fine, that is. But Parker doesn’t need to know about that.
“Whatever. You don’t have to cry on my shoulder or anything, but you can admit that you’re hurting.”
“What’s there to hurt about? It was a fake relationship.”
“Most people don’t take heat leave with their fake relationship,” he accuses. “And they don’t call me crying from outside a café because their fake relationship broke things off.”
“I wasn’t . . . crying.”
He rolls his eyes again. “Right. Sure. Regardless—We are getting drinks tonight.”
“I don’t really feel like going out,” I protest feebly.
“Well, I don’t really feel like watching you wither away in front of me because of that asshole.”