Page 96 of Tamed By You

Jack continues, “But I promise, if you don’t give up on her, it will all be worth it. You just need to be patient and show her you aren’t giving up on her, the way everyone else in her life has.”

I let Jack's words sink in and I know he’s right, but I can’t help but worry I’ve already lost her.

“Come on, go shower and we are taking you for food. Something that isn’t deep fried and comes in a box,” Brad says tapping me on the back.

I give them both a smile, one I hope that conveys my appreciation to them both. We’ve all pulled each other out of the darkness many times and I should have known this time wouldbe no exception. I know they will always be there for me, but never has my darkness felt this bleak.

I take a shower and put on clothes for the first time in days. We head out in search of food. I’m lucky I live in central New York, and we are minutes from some of the best bars and restaurants.

I sense they are planning on taking me to my favorite steak restaurant when we pass by Aurora’s cocktail bar. We cross the street, Brad slightly in front and Jack behind me on a call to Ria. Suddenly, without warning, Brad stops in the middle of the street, and I slam into his back, jolting us forward.

“What the fuck?” I huff, stepping away, looking at him ready to go off for being so clumsy when I look up at the building in front of us to see what got him stopping in his tracks.

My stomach drops, that painful ache returning to my body, my legs feeing like they might give out and I am thankful for the strong arm that wraps around my shoulder to steady me. My eyes focus on the large billboard in the middle of Times Square as image after image of familiar icy blue eyes and a face that’s haunted my dreams for weeks now lights up the place.

She looks incredible. Perfect in every way, but I know her As I watch as the billboard repeats the montage of images for a second time, I can see the emptiness in her eyes, the broken smile. I notice all of it because I’ve seen the real Ali, not the Ali she shows the world like the one casting over New York right now.

It feels like a punch to the gut watching her beautiful face flicker before my eyes and I can’t touch her, can’t hold her.

Jacks soothing voice echoes around as everything begins to feel dark. “Come on, buddy, we’ve got you.”

Chapter Forty-Four

Ali

I can’t be sure how long I’ve laid here, how many hours or days, or maybe weeks, have passed by. Time seems to have stopped. Every minute ticks by and this feeling I have doesn’t ease. It only gets worse.

Ria and Gabby have come to see me, begged me to let them call a doctor. I think I convinced them enough that it’s the flu, but the flu can only last so long. His face, her face, the faces from my past, they have plagued my dreams, and it felt like ten steps backward when I had to reach for the sleeping pills just to get some relief from the never-ending loop of flashbacks replaying over and over.

One letter, a few sentences have put me right back to where I was nearly fifteen years ago. It took everything I had to pull myself out of that hole. But this time it feels impossible, toodifficult to do because I’ve had a taste of happiness; a sample of what life could be like if I wasn’t so damaged and broken. The universe saw I was happy and really wanted to fuck me up the ass by deciding my past had to come back to haunt me. It's easier when you’ve never experienced true happiness to pull yourself out of your darkness. You don’t need to mourn what was. But now, trying to accept I can’t have, what I so desperately want, is a kind of pain I have wanted to avoid.

How can life be so unfair, so cruel? How can someone do what they did and there be no real repercussions, and yet I am the one who has to live with it. Have it replay over and over, the memories living in my head like an unwelcome guest; I am the one living with the lifelong sentence, not them.

I roll to my other side, pins and needles trickling up my left side, a sign I have stayed in the same position too long. Pushing my hand under my pillow, gripping the crumpled fabric of his t-shirt, I pull it free, bring it to my face, and inhale. His scent fades a little more each day, just like I hoped my feelings for Harry would, but they don’t. Every day it hurts a little more, not less. I tell myself I don’t need him, that I don’t want him, but I do. I ache for him. I shouldn’t have let myself get close to him, shouldn’t have let my guard down, show him the parts of me I’ve never shown anyone.

I’ve spent the last fifteen years guarding my heart, building a protective wall around me. One so strong not even the strongest of forces could break through. But he did, he knocked that wall down bit by bit until the last part came tumbling down. But now all I am left with is the rubble, the aftermath of my past coming back to destroy me again. Everything feels too damaged to rebuild. How can I expect someone, especially someone as good as him, to sit here with me in the ruins? He says he will stay, but he won't. If I told him, he would see how truly broken I am and then he would walk away, and that would hurt more than thething that hurt me in the first place. He can’t be here on my side of the broken wall. I need to focus on rebuilding it by myself.

Sweeping the soft fluffy brush across my face, I cover the dark circles, the pale skin, the pain in makeup. It’s Brad’s birthday and going out to celebrate is the last thing I want to be doing, but if I don’t go, I’ll only raise more suspicion. My boss has been leaving me message after message, but I don’t have the energy to have that conversation. I don’t feel ready to go back. I don’t feel ready for anything, especially not seeing Harry.

Reaching for my favorite pink lip gloss, I coat my lips, puckering them, lacquering on the shimmering liquid. I stare at my reflection, a perfectly made-up face, hair curled and full of volume. You would never know how broken I was. But I see, I see the fifteen-year-old girl staring back at me, reminding me how far I’ve fallen again.

Hello, darkness, I’m home.

I tighten my silk pink bathrobe. Weeks of not eating more than a bowl of soup has required me to tug a little harder to keep the fabric close to my body. A sudden wave of dizziness hits me, and I grip the counter to steady myself. Letting out a slow breath, I open the top drawer of my vanity and reach for my anxiety meds—ones I haven’t taken in so long but now I need them to ease my racing heart and then the small bottle of vodka to wash them down. I’ve somehow fallen into old coping methods and I’m too weak to stop. I just need to numb this empty feeling, this unbearable ache that not only consumes my body but also my mind.

I toss the pills into my mouth and swig the vodka straight from the bottle, wincing as the burn of the alcohol hits the back of my throat. I turn to look at the black dress I plan to wear. Remembering the night, I wore it when Harry took me to the theater in London. Maybe it's stupid wearing it, but it makes me feel like I have a small part of him, holding me, keeping me together. I slip the dress on, smoothing my hands over the silk fabric, tears pricking my eyes at the memory of his hands on my waist as we walked along the River Thames, soaking in the sights of the evening. I clasp a hand over my mouth, choking back a sob, my body suddenly rising to an uncomfortable temperature.

I need to get this dress off.

But the moment I go to do so, Gabby’s voice sounds from the other side of the door. “Babe, you ready? Cab’s outside.”

“Just a second,” I call, trying my best to sound my normal self.

I take one last swig of the vodka, glancing at my reflection and taking a deep breath. Time to do what you do best, Alice. Plaster on a smile and act like a winner.

Chapter Forty-Five

Harry

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