Page 97 of Tamed By You

We are sat in a VIP booth in Aurora’s. Our closest friends surround us, here to celebrate Brad’s birthday. Our booth overlooks the dance floor, the place packed with people. The club has a bougie vibe. Everything is sleek and black, with the odd accent of silver.

Brad sits in the center of the booth, dressed head to toe in black, puffing on a cigar, a whiskey in his free hand. Jack is sitting with Ria, her belly growing a little more every time I see her. I smile looking at them as they talk, never breaking eye contact with each other. So blissfully happy and I can’t help but feel a little jealous. Not of them, but what they have, and the idea that I could have had it with Ali. I’ve been back weeks now and she still won’t talk to me, won’t answer my calls, or texts so I am at a loss of what to do. Trying to make sense of it all is breakingme in two. I don’t understand how we went from everything that we were in London to nothing at all.

I sip on vodka soda, a drink that reminds me of her, and my eyes travel the length of the club until they land on eyes I’d recognize anywhere. Her body visibly stiffens when she registers me, and her gaze quickly diverts to Ria and Jack.

“Hey ladies.” Brad’s voice booms over the music as he stands to greet Gabby and Ali, everyone does except me. I freeze in place, taking in her black dress, the dress she wore to the theater, the dress I peeled off her bronzed skin that then laid on my bedroom floor. That was the night I decided to book Paris, and we were on the train the next day. I’ll never forget the way she looked in that dress. Sure, she’s worn fancier, sexier dresses than this one, but this dress she wore when the first shift in our relationship happened, and that now feels like another lifetime ago.

Gabby walks over to me and I stand, embracing her and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Ali awkwardly stands, looking down at the silver bag she clutches nervously in front of her stomach.

“Hey,” I mouth and nod. She gives me a weak smile and then sits at the opposite end of the VIP booth next to Kate and starts chatting. Given how we usually acted around each other, most wouldn’t question us, but tonight, Jack and Brad look at me and I shake my head in reassurance. I don’t need them fussing over me. I don’t know if Ali has told the girls. Tonight isn’t about us, it’s about Brad.

One of the bar staff carries over a bucket of Champagne with sparklers and we all sing happy birthday and cheer. He’s not usually one for grand gestures, but I can see in Brad’s eyes he’s grateful we are all here. He’s had a rough life, and although he might look like he will snap you in half for glancing at him in the wrong way, he has a heart of gold under all that hard exterior.

He claps a hand on my back, leaning in. “You good man, I know it must be hard being here.” His voice is full of empathy.

“I’m good.” I lie. I’ve never felt so uncomfortable in my life. I’ve watched her all evening. Noticed the drinks she is putting away, how she’s not up dancing, barely speaking to anyone.

She looks lost, hollow, broken. The light has gone out in her eyes. Her eyes, which were once full of passion and fire, are now dim and vacant and it breaks me to see her like this. I thought I’d felt pain when we lost Scotty or when I had to pull Tori out of her own darkness, but this, this is something else.

She excuses herself and my eyes follow her to the back of the club. I get up, hot on her heels. Needing to talk to her. She pushes through the back exit, only used for staff, but just like her, I couldn’t give a shit about the rules.

The muggy New York evening air hits my face as I push through the door she just went through. She’s leaning against the wall, hands covering her face, the streetlight glowing just enough to see her.

“Ali,” I call, and she looks up, moving away from the wall and holding her hands up in surrender.

‘Harry, please, not tonight.”

“I don’t want to fight. I just want to know if you’re okay.”

“I’m great, never been better.” She answers sarcastically, still not meeting my gaze.

I reach out, touching her arm and she flinches at the contact. “Please, look at me.”

She doesn’t and I take hold of her chin and move her to look at me. “Ali, give me something, please. Hate me. Fight me. But don’t ignore me, because this version of us is killing me,” I plead.

Her face softens, tears pooling in her haunted eyes. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Harry. I’m trying to save you.” Her voice is shaky.

“From what?”

“Me.”

I take a step closer, cupping her face with both my hands, and she closes her eyes.

“Why would I need saving from you?” I ask, pressing my forehead to hers.

“Because I’m poison. Everything I touch gets tarnished,” she chokes out, her hands coming up to grip the lapels of my shirt.

“Baby, please, if you can’t be with me right now, the way I want you to be, the way I need you to be, just give me something. Help me understand what’s happening here.”

“You want me to help you understand this, but I can’t. I don’t even understand it.”

“Ali, please,” I beg, weaving my fingers into her hair, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and she instantly pulls away. Turning away from me, taking two steps, then spinning on her heels, her eyes wild, finger pointing at me.

“We weren’t meant to be anything. You were meant to be one night, one and done,” she yells. “You made my mind and my heart believe that I could do it. That I could be normal, that I could have what everyone else has. But I can’t. I have so much baggage, Harry, you wouldn't know where to begin unpacking it. I am too much to handle. Trust me, I am doing you a favor pushing you away.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” I say quietly, trying to process her words. “How can this feel right Ali? I miss you so mu—”

“I know,” she interrupts. “I miss you too. I am falling for you in some type of way that I don’t understand. I’m getting so lost I don't know what to do.”

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