by Dani McLean
I was monumentally fucked.
“Oh, Auds,” Tiff said, and she sounded as despairing as I felt. “Promise me you’ll at least try.”
I waited until I was on the El before I told Jackson I was on my way.
The trip didn’t give me enough time to collect my thoughts. I still felt as lost as I had at Tiff’s, but I was at least calmer than before. I had no idea what to expect when I talked to Jackson, but I felt each brick being laid down around my heart with every approaching stop.
The first thing I wanted to cover was the podcast and the “no one” comment.
Either Jackson lied. Or worse, he hadn’t.
The best way to approach it was probably quick. Like a band-aid, wasn’t that the phrase?
He was as gorgeous as ever when he opened his door, casually dressed in sweats and a tee. I imagined him spending the afternoon reading scripts on the couch, and it made me want to forget everything and just curl up in his arms.
Suddenly, I had a strong preference to avoid this conversation.
On instinct, or perhaps because it might be the last time I got to do it, I hugged him, reveling in the feel of him, his familiar smell, the comfort of his arms. More than anything, I wanted for it to be yesterday when there wasn’t anything hanging over my head.
“Can I sit?” The question was unnecessary. I was already moving towards the couch, and I didn’t expect him to say no, but the thick fog of the inevitable was starting to choke me, and I needed to say something.
When he took the seat next to me, I turned and rested my feet in his lap. It was a position we’d been in many times. His hands came to rest on my calves, and the gesture pulled at my heart, taunting me. See how sweet he is? My heart seemed to cry. Don’t hurt him.
Clearing my throat, I said, “I wanted to talk to you about the interview today.”
Quick. Just like a band-aid.
Jackson, understanding exactly which part of the interview I was referring to, gently squeezed my leg. “I’m sorry about that. They put me on the spot, and since we haven’t talked about going public, I thought that was the best way to cut off the questions until I saw you. I know that’s not an excuse, but I wanted you to know that I do see us as something serious.”
“Ok.” And it was. “I … that makes sense.” And it did. “I have to admit I was a little disappointed, but you’re right, we hadn’t talked about going public, and after I saw some of the comments that they were talking about, I guess I’m glad no one knows who I am yet.”
His frown deepened. “I’m also sorry about that. You don’t deserve any of what they’re saying, anonymous or not, and I plan on getting the PR team to make sure that anything hateful is deleted.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
I slipped my gaze away from his, flexing my foot against his thigh, and watched as he thumbed along the seam of my pants.
“I wanted to if that helps.” When I responded with a questioning look, he elaborated. “Tell them how I felt about you. I know we haven’t been together very long, and it’s a big step, but I wanted to call you my girlfriend today. To tell everyone how much you mean to me.”
He was quiet, studying me while I continued to avoid looking directly at him. Scared that if I met his eyes, I would crumble. Into what, I wasn’t sure yet.
“But only if that’s something you want, too.”
“I …” And I startled myself when I realized I had no idea what I wanted to say. I honestly couldn’t decide between bringing it up or letting it go, and it made me so endlessly disappointed in myself. Because I didn’t trust myself to know what I wanted.
Brad’s voice rang in my ears. I really wished I’d let Tiff punch him.
Before the next words came out of his mouth, I could feel the change in the atmosphere, like a super sense, warning me about what was about to happen. But I had no way of stopping it.
“Audrey, I know it might be quick, but no, I know how I feel about you, and I don’t care if it’s too soon …” The tenderness in his tone felt abrasive against the storm swirling inside me. “I love you.”
Earlier today, it had taken two words to break through my rose-colored haze.
It took three to break my heart.
31
Jackson
Her eyes drifted closed in the seconds that followed, and I prayed they would open and release me from the fear that was slowly creeping over me.
Then they met mine, and my breath caught in my throat.
It wasn’t so much that she didn’t immediately say it back. It wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for, but on its own, I could accept it. I could even understand it. It was still early.
It was the look of shock and fear in her eyes that hurt.
“Audrey?”
She swung her legs off my lap and onto the floor, turning away from me, her voice icy. “I heard you.”
The resulting silence was not comforting me. Something was wrong, but I was scared to ask.
Panic struck me as Audrey stood up from the couch, her face strained. “I really wish you hadn’t said that.”
My heart dropped.
She swore softly to herself.
“If you don’t feel the same …” I started but was barely able to finish the thought, let alone the sentence. Had I imagined this thing between us?
“No! I …” She caught herself. “Jackson, I really care about you. You have to know that. But this has just all gone so fast, and I don’t know how to do this right now.”
She wasn’t making sense. “I don’t understand.”
She didn’t answer.
I was at a loss. I wanted to say the right thing, but I wasn’t sure what that even was. “Audrey,” and it came out like a question. Like a plea.
She was quiet as I watched a myriad of emotions cross her face, her lips twitching with unsaid words. Eventually, after a long exhale, she whispered, “I think I better go.”
I reach out, pleased this time when she didn’t shy away. “Please stay. We should talk about this.”
Taking a seat, I was hopeful when she did the same, but it waned when she couldn’t quite meet my eye. When she didn’t say anything after a minute, I tentatively unwound her hands where they were tightly clenched on her lap and clasped one between my own.
This broke her silence. “I’m not … I can’t …” She pinched her nose with her free hand, clearly pained at not being able to find the words.
It was equally frustrating that she couldn’t tell me what was going on in her head.
I couldn’t understand what had changed, and she wouldn’t explain it. I wanted to make it right, to fix it. I just needed her to tell me what I could do to help us get past this. Why was this so hard? Yesterday, everything had been easy, and now it was complicated.
I was scrambling to figure out what was going on. “Is this about the podcast? Do you want me to tell everyone how I feel about you? Because I’ll do that. I can get on Twitter right now and tell everyone how much you mean to me.” Help me fix this.
“No,” she said, pulling her hands out of my grasp, and my jaw clenched as my annoyance built. Talk to me, I wanted to scream.
“I don’t want that. I …” She cut herself off again with a frustrated groan, and I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Audrey. Talk to me.” My voice was firm. “What do you want?” I felt like a broken record.
“You know what I want?” Her voice cracked, but there was no mistaking the fire behind it. “I want not to be having this conversation. I want not to have to choose between you and my work. I want to go back to how it was before. I want it to be easier.” She shook her head. “We should have just kept it casual. Good thing you covered yourself in that interview. It’ll be easier this way.”
My pulse stuttered, caught between thrumming in anger and halting in panic. Where was this coming from?
I made a move toward her and couldn’t hide the look of hurt when she shied away from me and took a step back out of my reach. F
rustrated, I dragged a hand through my hair. “Is that what this is about? The damn interview? I told you. I was protecting you.”
“I never asked you to do that! I can take care of myself.”
“I never said you couldn’t!”
If she heard me, I couldn’t tell. She started to pace. “And what about the post about the rum? Was that to protect me?”
“What?” It took me a moment to think back, understand what she was referring to. “I did that to support you. I thought you’d be happy.”
“You didn’t even ask me.”
I stiffened. “I didn’t think I needed to.”
“It’s not that …” She deflated somewhat, pausing mid-stride. “I don’t need you to fix my problems for me, Jackson. I can handle it. Why doesn’t anyone get that?”
“I know you don’t need me to, but I want to.”
“Well, I don’t want that.”
I paused, knowing I might not like the answer, but determined to ask anyway. “What do you want?”
“Not this.”
It was a gut punch.
I finally moved off the couch, needing some distance, though I couldn’t bring myself to move farther than a few steps from where she was. Where had this all gone so wrong?
There were a million things I wanted to say. I wanted to tell her that I also wanted those things. That this was what had kept me from starting anything serious since I’d started acting. That I also had no idea how it would work, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to be with her.
“I’m sorry,” Audrey said, still seated, her head hanging down as she focused on her lap. “I’m not explaining myself right.”
Releasing a heavy breath, I took a seat on the coffee table so I could face her, but I didn’t reach out, and neither did she. We were going around in circles. Or speaking two different languages. It was exhausting. “No, you’re not.” I sounded as flat as I felt.
“Can we just … Maybe we need to take a break.” She gave me a pleading look and caught her bottom lip with her teeth. Seeing her like this was almost as painful as the idea of letting her walk away.
“No. That isn’t what I want. I want to work this out. I love you.”
Her whole face fell at those words. “Stop saying that.”
A pit opened in my stomach, and I realized I’d been an idiot. She didn’t feel the same, and I’d just thrown my heart out to be crushed.
“Do you love me?” Because I needed to hear her say it. Because if what she felt for me was anything close to what I felt for her, we could work this out.
In the seconds before she answered, I was hyper-aware of the space between us. She hadn’t shifted away from me, and I found myself leaning toward her to close the gap.
Her voice was quiet. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
I thought hearing no would be the worst answer, but I was wrong. This was.
“Ok …” I stalled, trying to wrap my head around this situation. It was frustrating to be without words, so used to being full of them, even when they were someone else’s.
The bottom was dropping out of my world, and there was nothing I could do about it.
She winced. “Jace, I …”
I tried to ignore the sharp pinch in my chest at her apologetic tone. I knew what it sounded like, but I didn’t really want to believe it. I couldn’t. There was no way there wasn’t love there. I knew that. But for some reason, Audrey couldn’t acknowledge it. Or maybe she refused to.
“You say it like it’s so easy,” she said.
The moment stretched out, and I focused on the feeling of her soft skin, her hand in mine. When had she reached out for my hand?
Everything felt wrong. All I wanted was to gather her up in my arms, tell her everything was ok. That we’d be ok.
“It is easy. I know exactly how I feel.” The implication was that she didn’t.
She pulled her hand, hard, out of my grip. “That’s not fair. I know how I feel. But this is … a lot, Jackson. Don’t you get that?”
“Of course, I do. You think that I don’t understand that?”
“You don’t understand. You can’t. It doesn’t matter how I feel if I don’t feel like myself. I want this to be real,”
I cut in, my fraying nerves not allowing me to sit silent. “It is real.”
“You think so, but it isn’t. You don’t know what a real relationship is. You’ve never been in one.”
White-hot anger flashed under my skin, and I was shocked by the intensity of it. But more than anger, it was fear. I could feel everything between us slipping away, trapped under our feet as we barked and bit at each other like this.
Insults seeped into my mind, words I knew would hit their target and hurt her just as acutely as she’d hurt me. A small part of me wanted to retaliate, wanted to cut into her the same way.
Maybe the most messed up part was that I agreed with her. I hadn’t been in a relationship before. That wasn’t to say she was right, but … she had a point. It was something I’d worried about and thought I had done a pretty good job of hiding from her. Clearly, I was wrong.
Which made this all the more frustrating. She knew me better than anyone, yet here she was, telling me she didn’t know how she felt about me, throwing this back in my face.
How did I get it all so wrong?
I finally spit out, “It’s not like your last relationship sets the gold standard.” If I had been thinking at all, I would never have let those words past my lips, but I wasn’t thinking. I was angry. I was furious.
Audrey’s head shot up, and her expression was as pained as I’d ever seen it. Guilt and anger were all I could see, and there was a perverse sort of pleasure at knowing I’d landed a blow. That I wasn’t the only one hurting right now.
Because I knew this was the end, and right now, I was standing by and watching it happen in real-time, like a spectator at an accident.
We stood at an impasse, neither of us speaking for a long time.
Then with a broken voice, she said, “You’re right.”
I said nothing as I watched the door shut behind her.
32
Audrey
When I returned to work the next day, all thoughts of Jackson were locked away, hidden to preserve my sanity. There would be time to fall apart later. It was the only way I was going to make it through without crying.
I felt raw, exposed, un-contained. Like my broken heart was beating outside of my chest for everyone to see. Emotions pouring in and out of me like a battle of the tides.
There wasn’t even time right now to question whether I’d done the right thing by walking out. More than anything, I felt horrible about everything I’d said, knowing I hurt Jackson with careless deflections.
My first hint that something was off was finding my office empty. I’d grown used to seeing Winnie and Jet squatting in here, waiting eagerly for the jobs I gave them.
I dropped my coat and bag on my desk and was on my way to David’s office when I found the two missing interns sitting with him in the conference room. More surprising to me was that the MacMillan’s were seated across from them.
Shock rushed through me, rooting me in place.
The MacMillan’s never traveled to the city. Ever.
What the hell did it mean that they were here now, and why the hell were they laughing with Winnie and Jet like old school chums?
And why was I just standing out here like an idiot?
I walked into the room without another thought. “Hi, sorry, did we have a meeting?”
“Audrey, fantastic! Sit down. We’ve got great news.”
Jeff corrected her. “Actually, it was terrible news that we’re hoping is good news.”
Julie patted his arm. “It’s all going to work out, Jeff.”
“Absolutely, Audrey will make sure of it.” David smiled at me.
I looked around warily, “Anyone want to fill me in?”
I was surprised when Winnie took over. “We received a
call yesterday after you’d left. The hire company double-booked half of our order for the launch and couldn’t provide us with all the chairs and tables we needed. Jet,” she gestured, “saw your notes on using some pieces of furniture that Jeff had made in the past as showpieces at the event, and I thought, why not use it to replace the half of the furniture we don’t have!”
“And we love the idea, Audrey” Julia was so happy; it was almost painful not to be able to return it.
Even Jeff looked pleased. “Made a few calls to some friends on the way up here after David mentioned it, and we’ll have more than enough on loan for the night to fix your issue.”
Your issue.
My issue, they meant.
The one that the damn interns fixed.
Because I was too busy imploding my relationship to be here.
I fixated on my breathing so I wouldn’t show the MacMillan’s how guilty I felt.
Winnie spoke up again. “I also managed to negotiate a refund of the full amount while getting the hire company to agree to loan them the remainder of the order. I got the idea from that mess you sorted last month with the delivery truck.”
“What a great idea.” I agreed.
David was smiling at me, but I couldn’t quite get my face to fit itself into the same expression. I was in shock.
I was completely embarrassed and left so off-kilter after the breakup that I felt one hair's breadth away from completely losing it. Each shallow breath only served to get my heart racing faster, fueling my frustration.
A dull weight had settled at my temple, heavy over my eyelids, and I couldn’t ignore the knowledge that it was solely my own doing. With some effort, I could rid myself of it instead of embracing it childishly, wrapping the hurt and frustration around like a shield.
David was eyeing me with concern but kept his tone light. “Ah, Jeff, Julie, why don’t you finalize the details with Winnie and Jet here while I update Audrey in my office.”
