Page 108 of The Innovator

Grayson:Gotta run to a meeting. Won’t be coming home until next week.

I couldn’t shake this odd feeling that a storm was coming and there was no umbrella wide or strong enough to protect me.

CHAPTERFIFTY-EIGHT

GRAYSON

Inside my hotel room in New York City, I stared at Natalie’s text messages. She was hurt, and I’d done it. I could feel her pain searing into me from the screen.

This was the only way to ensure her safety.

CHAPTERFIFTY-NINE

NATALIE

Grayson arrived in Providence yesterday, but was too tired to visit me. I’d been working all morning, and it was now lunchtime. I missed him and sent him a text.

Natalie:Will you be home for dinner?

Grayson:I’ve got a lot on my plate. Not coming home for dinner.

Natalie:You need to eat so you have energy.

Grayson:I’ll order something. Is that all?

My heart cracked from the bitter tone.

Natalie:I’ll let you get back to work.

Why did I feel like I was just pushed aside?

He was probably stressed with Three Point Park. Anxiety took a toll on a person, so I was trying to be an understanding girlfriend. But I wasn’t sure how much longer I could tolerate his dismissal of me.

The following day, I went to his place after work and found him in a sweatshirt and pants inside his office, slouching in his chair, drinking from a bottle of whiskey. He’d never done this before. What the hell was going on?

I yanked the bottle away from him. “Is everything all right? Why are you drinking?”

“Having a good time.”

“Did something happen at work? Why are you acting like this? I’m worried about you.”

He grabbed the bottle back from my hand. “This is how I was before I met you. Stop trying to change me.”

That comment stung, but I shoved it away.

“I’m not trying to change anything. What happened to the architect I fell in love with? What happened to the joy I used to see in your eyes? What’s going on with you? How can I help if I don’t know?”

“I’m not interested in your help. I like variety. If you haven’t noticed, open your eyes.”

What did he mean by that?

“What are you talking about?” Nerves stabbed my insides.

“It’s been fun, buttercup. But I need more variety. Morespontaneity. You’re too . . . simple for my taste.”

I didn’t know what people meant when they referred to the heart dying. How could it die when they were still breathing? But at this moment, I finally understood what it felt like to have my heart deflate in slow motion like a balloon losing helium. My bodily systems detached from themselves, disabling my emotions and my senses. I felt like an empty shell standing before him. Like a fool who had just realized she’d been defeated.

Don’t cry.

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