Page 4 of My Sweetest Obsession
Her entire body shakes violently as she waits for what she must know is coming, and I have to muster up all the courage I have to get the words out, including some more of the liquid variety.
I chug the whiskey, wincing this time as my head spins from the alcohol now coursing through my bloodstream. My vision blurs staring at the mostly empty bottle. “As soon as he left, I felt terrible about it. I ran out after him, but he had already pulled away from the curb, and there was no way I was going to catch him on foot.” I release a little snort. “I even tried running after him for the first block or two, but he wasn’t stopping for me. He was driving like a bat outta hell…”
I raise my eyes to meet hers.
It’s all I need to do to confirm what happened.
“Oh, God.” She presses her hand over her heart as a hiccupped sob steals her breath. “The stop sign he ran…”
I nod slowly. “Two miles from here.”
“Oh, my God.” Ivy sucks in a sharp inhale as her chest starts rising and falling rapidly. “Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.”
She repeats the words over and over and over, then covers her mouth with her hand and gags.
“Shit, Ivy—” I try to push up, but the room spins violently, and I crumple back onto the floor. My head slams back against the bricks again, and I squeeze my eyes closed long enough to get the world to stop its rotation, then open them.
Ivy turns away from me and crawls to the wastebasket next to the kitchen island and dry heaves over it.
I shift up to attempt to get to my feet again, but she holds out a hand to me.
“Don’t. You. Come. Near. Me.”
Her words are like another sharp slice from the knife lodged in my heart, but I drop back onto my ass and let my head fall against the bricks. This time, the sharp bite of pain is more than welcome. It isn’t anywhere near what I deserve. “I told you that you would hate me.”
“Did you—” She heaves again, gasping for air as she tries to gain control of her body. Her hands tremble, clutching the edges of the wastebasket, her eyes clench closed, and her lips quiver. She finally glances over at me. “Did you know he was in the accident?”
I shake my head “No.” Tears burn my eyes, blurring my vision of her, and I swallow back another sob. “I was going to call him to apologize the next day. Give him some time to cool off, but then my mom called that night…”
Ivy heaves again as I fight the desire to do the same fucking thing.
Reliving that moment, hearing Mom say those words and knowing I had caused it—all of it threatens to drag me even deeper into the dark abyss of despair I’ve already dived into tonight.
“It was my fault, Ivy, all of it. I killed Drew. If I hadn’t kissed you that night, if I hadn’t come back, if I hadn’t fought with him, if I hadn’t said those things and made him leave that angry, he’d still be here. Everything would be how it’s supposed to be. He’d still be alive, you two would be married, and I’d be back in London…”
Ivy settles back on her ass and leans against the kitchen counter, watching me warily, her face pale and clammy looking. She wipes her mouth with the back of her arm as her tears continue to roll down her cheeks.
The way she looks at me—like I’m a complete stranger instead of the man she’s been sharing a bed with—destroys what’s left of my heart. That knife so deeply embedded in it finally tears away the final pieces so that nothing is left except my guilt and agony.
I swallow back the desire to beg her forgiveness because there’s no way to ask for that from her.
Not with what I’ve done.
What I’ve caused.
“Did you go back to London?”
There it is.
At some point, she was going to realize it was a full month after Drew died before I showed up on her doorstep, and she was bound to want an explanation. It’s the least she deserves.
I shake my head. “No. When my mom called and said he had died, and I realized what I had done”—I take a sharp inhale and chug on the bottle again, taking several long swallows and hissing at the burn—“I couldn’t leave her.” I meet Ivy’s gaze. “I couldn’t leave you.”
“But—” She shakes her head. “You didn’t come to the funeral. Your mother says she hasn’t seen you in years. I don’t…”
I press my lips together, trying to control the emotions warring inside me. Ivy needs answers, but the more I give her, the worse I feel. The more confident I become that there will never be an end to this torment. “I couldn’t face her knowing what I had done, that I was the reason she had lost Drew. I couldn’t face you, but I made sure you were both okay as much as I could.”
Her brow furrows again as she narrows her eyes on me. “What do you mean?” After a few seconds, her eyes widen slightly. “Why did you come to my house that night—that specific night?”
