Page 171 of A Love Letter to Whiskey
B shook even more as she pressed her fingertips to her temple, massaging. “You thought I would wait, and I thought you changed your mind.”
I thought she’d stop me when I moved toward her again, but when she didn’t, I bent to my knees, waiting until she looked me in the eyes.
“I could never change my mind about you.”
She closed her eyes with a quivering lip like I’d struck her.
“No,” she said, pulling away. “No, you should have found a way. You gave up too easily. You should have answered my call, or had your lawyer call me, or told Jenna, or fucking smoke-signaled. This is too much. You abandoned me.”
“Stop doing this! Stop self-destructing, stop making this harder than it has to be,” I begged, exhausted. “Maybe you’re right, okay? Maybe I should have figured out a way to reach you, but I didn’t, because you were supposed to wait. And none of that matters now, want to know why?” I touched her chin, lifting her eyes to meet mine. “Because you still love me. And I love you.”
She flew off the couch, away from my touch, running her hands through her messy hair. “No, it does matter. Because I’m getting married.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am!”
I stood, jaw tight. “You’re not marrying anyone but me.”
My words shocked her for only a moment before she scoffed.
“You can’t do this. You can’t walk in here, at the one time I finally have my life together, and make me rip it to shreds.” Tears assaulted her, falling so quickly she couldn’t bat them away fast enough. “All we do is hurt. All we do is destroy, and one of us is always picking up the pieces, trying to move on or forget or not get our hopes up. It’s sick. We’re toxic.”
She cried so hard she could barely breathe, and again, when I tried to comfort her, she ripped away from my touch.
“And now, I risked everything I have to be with you last night, because I literally can’t say no to you. I cheated on a man who didn’t deserve it, on a man who wants to spend his life with me, on a man I love, all because of my inability to let you go.”
She cried and cried, looking at me like I was the fucking devil.
“Your love is poisoning me, Jamie!”
A violent sob lurched through me, face twisting with emotion as I crossed the room. I had to hold her. I had to make her see that our love wasn’t poison — it was our saving grace.
I shook my head, pulling her into me, holding her as tightly as I could as another sob wrecked me. I bent, pressing my lips to hers, but she shoved me back.
“Stop it! Stop! You have to go, you have to leave, Jamie.”
She breathed wildly, tears streaming down her face.
Please.
Please, don’t do this.
Please, don’t let me leave. Don’t make me leave.
Hold me.
Kiss me.
Be with me.
Ask me to stay tonight.
Ask me to stay forever.
I begged her, though I didn’t say a word. She felt every word I didn’t say as we stood there in her apartment, breathing fire, ice in our veins.
But she didn’t budge.
I growled, punching a box as I passed by it. It was full of pans, and it clamored to the floor, but I didn’t care. I stormed out of that apartment, out of that building, out of that city with my heart splintered into jagged, paper-thin shards.
And that was it.
That was really it.
I snuck into the church the day she married Brad, stomaching only the first five minutes before I had to leave. I just had to see it for myself, had to know that she really meant it, that she loved him and we were truly over.
Watching her walk down the aisle to him was all the gut-wrenching proof I needed.
I only flew to see her once more after that, to apologize for what I’d done, for how I’d tested her before her wedding when she’d already made promises to another man. It wasn’t fair. And she was right.
I was poison.
So, with one final parting gift, and a promise that I would always be there for her should she ever need me, I pressed a kiss to her forehead.
And I let her go.
Let us go.
Until the day I saw her goddamn book in the bookstore window.
AND THERE YOU HAVE it.
We’re all caught up.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I asked B, and even then, even with a mixture of love and curiosity and fucking rage searing through me, I wanted nothing more than to kiss those lips of hers that were parted in shock at the sight of me.
“Jamie,” she breathed, and the sound of my name on her lips nearly unraveled me, nearly erased any questions I had or any urgency to know what the fuck that book meant. The way she said my name always tested my willpower, and at that moment, I nearly gave in, nearly pushed through that door and slammed her into the wall and took what I knew was always mine.
