Page 122 of Something Forever

“You believed her, too. You thought the same as me?—”

“Because you signed them, Liam.”

“I’m sorry.” I take a step towards her and lift my hand to her chin, tilting her eyes to meet mine. “I should have trusted you. I let my insecurities and fears control my actions, and when I was hurting, I protected myself the best way I knew how. It was selfish and stupid, and I regret it more than anything. Running from what scares me is all I know how to do, but I don’t want to run from you, Whitney. You’re my home.”

She shakes her head and pushes my hand away. I’m completely helpless as I watch her eyes well with tears.

“You should go,” she chokes out.

“I love you,” I whisper, my voice raw. “You are the most important thing in my life. Please tell me what to do. I’ll do anything.”

My hand trembles with the need to reach out and touch her, to wipe away her tears and wrap her in my arms and tell her that everything is going to be okay, but I feel like I’m on the edge of a cliff, about to free-fall. Nowhere to land. No safety net.

“It’s too late,” she says eventually, her voice shaky.

An image of her standing barefoot in the kitchen flashes through my mind. The early morning light bathing her in a golden glow, my oversized t-shirt hanging off her thin frame. An ordinary moment made special simply by her being a part of it.

I shake my head, refusing to recognize what she’s saying. Because it can’t be too late. It can’t be.

“No,” I argue, my voice trembling.

“Please go,” she whispers. “Please.”

Something about the raw desperation in her plea sends a jolt through me, my spine straightening. I refuse to accept that we are over, but I have to respect her request and try again another time. Maybe once she’s slept on it, she’ll feel differently.

Swallowing my protests, I take a deep breath. “Okay,” I say reluctantly. “I’ll go, but this conversation isn’t over. We can’t just let her get away with this, Whitney.”

Her eyes flare with anger, and I can’t tell if it’s for me or Caroline. “You made sure it was over the second you signed those papers.”

There’s nothing I can say. I feel like I’m grasping at straws trying to describe my rash decision, how the sickening pain of what I perceived as a rejection overruled any sense of logic and security. How the minute I saw her ring it felt like the world collapsed beneath me, and now I’m terrified I’ll never find my way to solid ground. Not without her. Not without my anchor.

“I love you,” I repeat, because there’s nothing else I can say. “I don’t want a divorce. I want to be with you, and I should have never given up on that. If you give me another chance, I will spend every day for the rest of my life proving to you how much I love you. I promise you that, Whitney.”

She doesn’t respond, and I can’t tell whether my words have landed at all.

“I’ll go now.” I wrap my arm around her shoulder, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. I’m surprised she lets me, and just the brief feeling of her in my arms seems to settle me. Hanging my head, I grab my bags and ramble down the sidewalk, walking away from the woman I love.

45

WHITNEY

Is this what dying feels like?

There’s a hole in my heart the size of Everest. I can’t keep a meal down, and no matter how much I sleep, tiredness seems to overwhelm me. Everywhere I look, the world seems dimmer somehow.

Gray.

Cold.

Empty.

I can’t even take solace in my apartment because everything reminds me of Liam. He’s woven into every part of that place, the memory of him following me around like a ghost. Even curled up in my own bed, I was assaulted with the memory of him pressed against my back, the two of us tangled up in my sheets. If I close my eyes and focus hard enough, I can almost smell him — that sultry blend of mint and clean linen.

So, here I am at a nearby coffee shop, trying desperately to forget the dead expression in Liam’s eyes when I told him to leave and the reluctant acceptance of his goodbye. He said he wouldn’t stop trying, but that was six days ago, and I haven’t heard from him once. I don’t even know where he’s been staying.

I shouldn’t care — I tell myself I don’t — but the ache in my chest tells a different story.

I’ve ignored three texts from my mother. Every time I look at them, I’m hit with a wave of overwhelming sadness. I know I’ll have to confront her at some point, but I don’t know what to say to her. How can I ever forgive this? My own mother tried to sabotage my relationship. It’s hard to believe she’d go that far just for money, and it makes me even more worried about what the hell is going on with her.

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