Page 112 of The Close-Up
The mix of pain and anger on his face as he gazes at me is wrenching. It’s like a glare, but with an edge of heartbreak.
My eyes burn, my chest aches, and my throat squeezes as I look at him. I’m hit with the urge to speak even though I know he can’t hear me. I ache to tell him how sorry I am for leaving when he was asleep, how much I wish I could take back that god-awful “I can’t do this. I’m sorry” text.
I start to open my mouth, but he shakes his head at me, his stony expression unmoving.
The silent rejection hits like a brick to my face. In this moment, it’s crystal clear: Simon wants nothing to do with me.
I did this. I made him feel this way. I broke him.
He turns away and walks to a car parked along the curb. He climbs in the backseat and shuts the door, and the car speeds away.
I deserve this... I broke his heart.
When I blink, the dam inside me bursts. It’s not until that hostess from earlier gently touches my arm and asks if I’m okay that I realize I’ve been standing there, silently crying. I blubber an apology, wipe my face with my hands, then stumble outside. I pull up the rideshare app on my phone and fall inside the car when it pulls up. The driver says nothing as I cry all the way back to Harper’s place.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Harper asks over the phone as I set up my camera in the corner of the courtyard at the San Francisco Mint.
“I’m sure,” I say.
With the phone pinned between my cheek and shoulder, I adjust the camera height. Then I straighten up and gaze around the space. The classic revival architecture of the building along with the endless strings of tea lights hanging above set the perfect romantic scene. At one end is a wooden platform with a white sheet hanging over it, which serves as the makeshift stage where Cole and Tamara will renew their vows. Standing cocktail tables and small round dining tables, all covered in white sheets, dot the rest of the space.
“You don’t have to keep checking in, you know,” I say as I finish setting up. “You’ve sent me three texts since I left your place two hours ago asking me this same question.”
Harper sighs. “Yeah, well... I felt a little guilty the way I left things earlier. And I didn’t want you to feel forced into anything.”
“You mean the way you forced me into this dress?” I smooth my palm along the side of the form-fitting hot pink knee-length cocktail dress Harper insisted that I wear. When I squirm, the cap sleeves feel snug against my shoulders. The gold zipper in the back, which runs the length of the dress, is cold against my skin.
“You look amazing in that dress, Naomi. You wanted to wear that sad gray thing you wear to funerals, but no. Not when you have to see Simon.”
Closing my eyes, I sigh and momentarily regret spilling everything the moment I got back to Harper’s place last night. But I was sobbing. She knew something bad happened. There was no way I could get away with telling her nothing.
“I really don’t think Simon is going to care what I look like,” I mumble. “He made it pretty clear last night that he’s done with me.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to start dressing like a sad sack. Especially if you’re planning on going through with what you’ve planned.”
I swallow in an attempt to quell the nerves whirring in the pit of my stomach. I’m fully aware of just how badly I screwed things up with Simon. I owe him an apology for how I hurt him, and I plan on doing that when I see him today.
I don’t expect that to change anything between us—I don’t have that right. I blew my chance with him the moment I decided to take the coward’s way out, when I walked out on him the other morning as he slept instead of staying and talking things out. Maybe if I had done that, I’d have realized my true feelings and we could have stayed together.
It’s too late now, though.
Harper huffs a sigh. “It’s okay if you want to say screw it and come home.”
“Can’t. I’ve gotta film this for work.”
“Fine. The moment they say ‘I do’ again, come home. Then we’ll drown our sorrows with sheet masks, prosecco, and whatever takeout you feel like.”
I smile softly for the first time all day. “Thanks, Harper.”
I hang up just as Cole and Tamara walk into the space, holding hands with their two elementary school-age kids dressed in adorable pink tulle dresses. Cole props their toddler on his hip. The two of them are clad in matching tuxes while Tamara wears a stunning sleeveless lace white gown with a deep V-neck. Gazing at the decorations, they all squeal in delight. I can’t help but grin. Even in my heartbroken state, I’m ecstatic for them. They’re declaring their love for each other again in front of their family and closest friends. Not everyone is able to do that. I swallow back a lump in my throat.
Cole spots me, hands the toddler to Tamara, and scurries over while tugging at the bow tie of his tux.
“Congratulations. This place looks amazing. And thanks again for letting Dash film your ceremony,” I say.
“Of course. Anything to promote Simon and what he’s helped do for us. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him.”
My heart pulses at just the mention of his name.
