“Hey!” I shout out to him, but he ignores me.
Every step I take makes me more and more frustrated about the situation.
“Jack?” I call out again, this time more urgently.
He finally tears his gaze away from the elevator door and meets my eyes. The torment in his eyes is undeniable.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier that Roisin was my sister,” I begin, my voice filled with a mixture of regret and confusion.
“Aimee…” Jack starts to speak, but his words hang in the air, caught between us.
“But why are you acting like this?” I continue.
“Like what?” Jack’s voice is tinged with frustration, mirroring my own.
I’m surprised by how much his indifference hurts. “Like you’re running out on me!”
“I told you, I have work.”
“I thoughtthiswas different.” My voice cracks with emotion.
“It is; it’s just…” Jack’s voice trails off, struggling to find the right words.
“Just what?”
His face forms an uncomfortable grimace, and he turns away, clearly exasperated. “Jesus Christ, Aimee, stop it.”
“Stop what?” I retort, my own frustration boiling over.
“You lied to me,” Jack states bluntly as if that’s enough of an explanation.
“Yeah… but…”
Jack looks at me again with pleading eyes. “Please, I need to go.”
I can see there’s no winning this conversation. Whatever I’ve done, whatever lying like this means to Jack, I’m not going to find out today.
“Right,” I respond, my voice barely above a whisper, the weight of the situation settling heavily on my shoulders.
Despite the tension, the harshness, and the way he looks at me like something he will always regret, he closes the distance between us and kisses me on the forehead firmly.
He lingers for only a moment before turning away.
“Goodbye, Aimee Maguire.”
With those words, he walks away, leaving me standing there, feeling the sting of his departure.
Chapter Twelve
Jack
New Yorkers don’t look at each other on the sidewalks. But the snarl I try to repress has even the most jaded of commuters giving me a wide berth.
Aimee Maguire.
AimeefuckingMaguire.
A fucking Maguire.