“Dinner tonight. Biltmore Club at seven.”
He hadn’t told her what to wear, but over the past two or three months he’d done that less and less. She knew now what he liked, what he expected, and since they were dining at the rather stuffy private club he belonged to, she’d make sure to wear something on the conservative side. She was also going to make damned sure that she looked as stunning as possible, that she pulled out every trick she knew to make herself irresistible. Because even though she’d been filled with dread all week, had been a walking basket case, convincing herself that she’d totally ruined any chance she had of keeping Nick, she was now filled with renewed hope. As she mentally ran through the contents of her extensive wardrobe, she vowed that she wasn’t going to let him end things without a fight. She’d find a way to convince him that the words she’d uttered in the heat of passion had been completely unintentional, had just slipped out unthinkingly, and that of course she wasn’t really in love with him. She was just like him, after all – not believing in love or commitment, being way too focused on her career right now to even think about the future, being more than content to keep things casual and low key between them, just as they had done so successfully for almost a year now.
She left work earlier than normal, needing the extra time to get ready for what could very well be the most important dinner of her life. She tried on nearly a dozen outfits, rejecting one and then the other as being too short, too sheer, too innocent, too sophisticated. She fretted over the sort of image she wanted to project tonight, not wanting to come across as too young or vulnerable, but also not wanting to seem too much the experienced, mature woman of the world.
In the end, she chose a simple white sheath dress, its starkness relieved by the black button detail on the yoke and a thin black patent leather belt. She left her hair long and straight, the way she knew Nick preferred, and her makeup was all smoky eyes and dark red lips. The only jewelry she wore were diamond stud earrings and a gold and diamond cuff bracelet, both gifts from him, of course.
He had left instructions for her with the club’s receptionist to head directly up to the dining room, an action that made her feel a bit uneasy since it wasn’t his usual way of doing things. Typically when she met him at a restaurant he would be waiting for her in the bar or at the entrance. Now, as she followed the hostess across the dining room floor towards their usual corner table, Angela kept her fingers crossed that her suddenly shaky legs would continue to hold her upright, or that her wobbly ankles wouldn’t cave in on her towering black patent stilettos.
Nick was already seated, a heavy crystal tumbler of what looked like whiskey in his hand. She frowned, for he rarely drank whiskey, preferring vodka as she did, or wine, and she tried not to make anything of it. He wore a light gray suit, unusual for him since he typically favored dark colors. He stood as she arrived but he was unsmiling and there was a strained look about his eyes.
A waiter brought her drink, her usual Absolut Citron, and she took a long swallow, not caring for once if Nick chided her. But he remained almost morosely silent, finishing off his whiskey and signaling to the waiter for a refill.
“I hardly ever see you drinking whiskey,” she commented, her voice sounding hollow to her.
He shrugged, glancing away. “I just wasn’t in the mood for vodka tonight. Seemed more of a Maker’s Mark evening.”
“Oh.”
The tension was heavy in the air and grew increasingly thicker as the meal dragged on. She let Nick order for her, but she had no appetite and no real idea of what she was even eating. For once, he didn’t harass her about picking at her food, and he himself ate little. Angela’s stomach was churning, as it had been all week, and she wondered distantly if she was developing an ulcer. Or acid reflux. Or IBS. Or –
“Do you want dessert?”
She shuddered at his question. “No. Maybe some tea, that’s all.”
“Okay.”
He skipped dessert, too, and even declined coffee in favor of a glass of port. It seemed to Angela that he’d had quite a bit more to drink than usual tonight, but she didn’t dare bring up the subject. They’d barely said a word during the entire meal, and Nick had been broody and unsmiling throughout. She’d wondered despairingly why he’d even bothered asking her to dinner, why he hadn’t just broken up with her over the phone or via text. Or just not contacted her at all. Anything would have been better than this ominous silence, this awful, menacing quiet.
She took a sip of her tea, though she really longed for another vodka. “Nick,” she ventured timidly. “Is something wrong? Why are you -”
“Not here, Angel,” he interrupted, holding up a hand. “We’ll talk in a bit, but not here. Finish your tea and then we’ll go for a drive or something.”
He was driving his SUV tonight, something he rarely did when he was with her, yet another difference in what had been an evening filled with unsettling changes. The uncomfortable silence continued as he drove with uncharacteristic care – no doubt because of the amount of alcohol he’d consumed – across the city until they reached the Presidio. Nick parked at Crissy Field, cutting the engine before getting out of the car. He helped her out, keeping a grip on her elbow as they slowly began to walk along the beach promenade. It was mostly deserted at this time of the evening, the sun having set almost three hours ago, but the weather was still balmy. It had been hot in the city today, reaching into the 80’s, but Angela had felt cold for days now and shivered a bit as they continued to walk along in silence.
“Is it too cold out here for you?” he asked abruptly. “We can go back to the car. Or find somewhere to get coffee.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine.”
Nick let go of her elbow then, shoving his hands into the pockets of his suit trousers, almost as if he didn’t trust himself to touch her. He stopped suddenly, staring out at the bay where the waves lapped gently at the shore. The silence continued to hang between them, growing heavier and more uncomfortable with each passing second, and Angela felt like screaming to relieve the unbearable tension. But when he finally spoke, his voice sounding rusty, she longed for the silence to return – for the words that came out of his mouth were the very ones she’d hoped to never hear.
“It’s over, Angel,” he said quietly, almost matter-of-factly. “I’m ending this – whatever it is we’ve shared for the last year. Tonight. I won’t be contacting you again and I trust you’ll respect my decision and accept that it’s done.”
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. She felt frozen in place, her entire body engulfed in ice as she began to shiver uncontrollably. She tried to say something but even her throat felt frozen over, and she couldn’t seem to open her mouth. A single tear began to track its way very slowly down her cheek, hovering near the corner of her mouth, but her hand didn’t seem capable of moving enough to brush it away.
Nick shut his eyes, shoving his hands even deeper into his pockets as he continued to speak in that deep, raspy voice. “I never, ever, expected things would last this long, you know. In my entire life I’ve never been with a woman more than a few weeks at best, and most of them a hell of a lot less time. So this – you – was definitely a first for me, Angel. But it needed to end sometime and that time is now.”
“No.” She was finally able to speak, though the sound that escaped her throat was barely a croak. “Please, Nick. Don’t – don’t leave me.”
He turned to her then, one of his big hands threading into her hair as the other wiped the tears from her cheeks as they fell more rapidly now. “I have to, Angel,” he muttered roughly. “I should have ended this weeks ago, months even. But I was too weak to do it then, couldn’t make myself say the words.”
She wrapped her arms around herself in a futile attempt to stop shivering. “Why?” she whispered on a sob. “Why now?”
“Because you’ve gotten too close,” he told her flatly. “You’ve allowed yourself to feel too much, feel things you weren’t supposed to feel for me.
Things I can’t – don’t – feel in return. And you deserve someone who can return your feelings, Angel. Someone who can love you. Someone who’ll offer you all the things you know deep down you really want – love, marriage, kids.”
“But I don’t want that stuff!” she protested wildly. “You know I don’t! Nick, please. When have I ever asked you for anything, ever once hinted I wanted more from you?”
“You haven’t,” he replied gently. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t want them. And you’re lying to both of us when you keep denying the truth. I’ve probably known all along that you really weren’t this modern, independent woman you try so hard to be. But it was after your cousin’s wedding – when it was so obvious how much your family’s behavior had affected you – that I finally recognized the real truth. And I knew then the time had come to let you go.”
“No! No!” She flung herself against him desperately, clinging to him fiercely. “You can’t let me go, Nick. Please! I need you in my life, I can’t bear the thought of not being with you. I don’t care how it has to be, I never have. All I’ve ever cared about is just being with you, on your terms, no matter what. Besides, I’m way, way too young to even think about getting married, that’s not even close to what I want right now. All I want,” she sniffled, twining her arms about his neck, “is you.”
“Angel.” He held her close, stroking her hair soothingly. “You say that now, but I know differently. Even before you told me last Friday night, I knew you were in love with me, knew that you’d felt that way for a long time. And I should have ended things the moment I realized the truth, should never have let things last this long. You might not agree right now, but one day you’ll see that I’m doing you a favor. Because as long as you’re mixed up with me, you’ll never be truly happy. I told you from the very first time that I was a selfish, fucked-up bastard and that’s never going to change.”
“I don’t care.” She was weeping openly now, the tears streaming down her face faster than she could wipe them away. “It doesn’t matter, nothing matters as long as you don’t leave me. Please, Nick. I’ll do anything, but please don’t end this.”
“Stop.” His voice deepened, became less raspy and more commanding. “You have to stop this now, Angela. Nothing you say is going to change my mind. And seeing the way you’re reacting now, how emotional you are, makes me realize that this is the right thing to do. We need to end this before I hurt you even more than I already have. Now, come on. You’re shaking like a leaf. Let’s get back in the car so I can take you home.”
“No. No.” She shook her head, refusing to budge, refusing to accept what he was telling her. “It can’t be over, it just can’t. I love you, Nick, it’s true. I’ve loved you from the beginning. But that doesn’t mean I won’t put my feelings aside. I’ll never say the words again, will never, ever expect you to say them back. I just want you in my life, on whatever terms you’re willing to give me.”
“No.” He took her firmly by the arm and began to propel her back towards his car. “I’m not willing to go along with those terms. While I’ve never apologized for being a selfish, cold-hearted prick, even I have my limits. And I refuse to go on hurting you intentionally, Angel, refuse to let it last even one more day. Because I’m finding it a little bit harder each day to live with myself. So it has to end now. For both our sakes.”
Angela was limp and unresisting as he practically hefted her inside the car, even buckling her seat belt when she was too unresponsive to do it herself. When she continued to shiver almost violently, Nick quietly switched on the automatic seat warmer but she barely noticed. The chill she felt was coming from deep inside of her, and she knew that nothing would help warm her. Nothing except Nick’s declaration that everything he’d said tonight had been a lie, that he hadn’t meant a word of it, and that nothing had changed between them.
The SUV pulled up outside of her building before she knew it, the drive having taken a revoltingly brief amount of time. Nick kept the engine idling and made no move to come around and assist her out.
“You should go now.” His voice was soft but firm. “There really isn’t anything more to say. All the things I’ve given you – the clothes, jewelry, furniture – obviously it’s all yours to keep.”
She couldn’t – wouldn’t – move, was stubbornly prolonging this, making it as difficult for him as possible. “Don’t do this,” she began to plead.
“It’s already done.” He cut her off brutally. “And there’s nothing more to say. Let’s just say good-by and go our separate ways.”
She clutched his arm. “No. We can make it work. Please give me another chance.”
His fingers were almost crushing hers as he forcibly removed her hand. “It’s over, Angela. Don’t humiliate yourself any further by begging. It won’t make a damned bit of difference. And don’t try contacting me, either. The phone number I gave you – the one you’ve been so diligent about not using – it’s been disconnected. And if you try to enter my office, my staff will be given very specific instructions to stop you. You’ll only embarrass yourself if you try. So let’s just finish this now and part with some semblance of dignity.”
“Nick.” Her voice broke as she began to weep again.
He reached across her with barely concealed impatience and flung her door open before unlatching her seat belt. When she didn’t budge he gave her a slight shove. “Get out, Angela. It’s over and I don’t want to see you again. Now, go, before I have to come over there and lift you out by force.”
He gave her another little push and she half-stepped, half-fell out of the vehicle, teetering wildly as she landed on the sidewalk. Without another word Nick closed the passenger door and drove off.
Had he bothered to glance back, he would have witnessed her crumpling to the ground right there on the sidewalk, her legs buckling underneath her, and sobbing as though her heart was breaking.
Chapter Twelve
Having been brought up a Catholic – and thereby subjected to more than a decade of religious education classes – Angela had always thought herself familiar with the concept of hell. But any of her previous images of that dark, evil place didn’t even begin to compare to the torturous depths she’d plummeted into over the past two weeks. Ever since the night Nick had broken things off between them, each waking moment had been far worse than her most vivid imaginings of hell had ever been. And since she hadn’t been able to sleep more than a couple of hours each night, nearly every moment in the day had been a waking one. Moments where she lived in constant agony, where she existed in a state of dazed disbelief, and where her body took over when her mind shut itself off.
She operated on auto-pilot round the clock, somehow managing to get dressed and off to work and go through the motions there. Except for her clients, she rarely spoke to anyone at the office, didn’t notice the looks of concern her co-workers sent her way, and she’d often spend half an hour or more at a time simply staring numbly into space.
She had no appetite whatsoever and was subsisting on power bars, black coffee, and booze – a whole lot of the latter. Most every morning since the break-up she’d woken with a hangover – bloodshot eyes, pounding headache, roiling stomach. Over the course of two weeks she’d already lost six more pounds, and her clothes hung loosely on her frame. She’d stopped paying attention to how she looked, not bothering with makeup, scraping her hair back into a messy ponytail, and not especially caring if her clothes were wrinkled.
She checked her phone almost obsessively for the call or text from Nick that never came, no matter how hard she willed it to happen. More than once she’d actually taken the elevator up to his floor and paced around the foyer for almost half an hour, hoping that he’d walk by. She was still too much under his control to outright disobey him and go directly to his office.
She kept telling herself that this was just a temporary break, that any day now Nick would realize what a terrible mistake he’d made and call her up, begging her to take him back. She ima
gined any number of different scenarios where this reconciliation took place – where he told her he couldn’t live without her, confessed he’d always loved her, promised to always be with her.
Her daydreams, her hopes, were the only things that kept her from snapping completely. Some part of her recognized that she was a complete and utter fucked-up mess and was barely hanging on to reality, but she couldn’t summon up enough strength to roust herself out of her stupor.
And after so many months of letting Nick control every aspect of her life, of organizing her schedule to accommodate and always be available for him, she was suddenly at loose ends – lost and adrift without any idea of what to do with herself. She was alienated from the family she’d never really been close to anyway; had pushed Lauren away so many times that she was good and pissed off by now; had basically cut off contact with nearly every friend she had. She had no one to talk to about what had happened, no shoulder to cry on. She’d never in her life felt so lost and alone, and part of her badly wanted to reach out to someone – to Lauren or Julia or even one of her sisters – but she felt too frozen inside to make the attempt.
She worked ridiculously long hours and would have spent even more time at the office had the constant temptation to try and see Nick not been present. She filled the empty hours without him by running, sometimes more than three hours in a session, and had lost even more weight as a result.
She’d dropped so much weight, in fact, that she had to begin wearing some of her older clothes. When Nick had ruthlessly plowed through the contents of her closet and they’d filled several large garbage bags with stuff to give away, she had stored the bags temporarily in the basement of her apartment building. She’d become so obsessed with Nick, so caught up in their relationship, that she had forgotten all about the bags until recently. One by one she dragged each one back upstairs, leaving them smack in the middle of her apartment, and pulled things out as she needed them.
Shattered Page 23
