Throat too tight, I swallow hard. “We had a bad night.”
“I’m sorry,” Heather says, her expression filled with sympathy. She walks over to me and pulls me into a hug, even though I tower over her. “Everyone has bad nights.”
“I know.” Maybe that’s all it is. Maybe I’m being dramatic. The tears threaten but I refuse to let them fall.
Over her head, I look at my phone, lying there on the counter.
He hasn’t bothered to reply.
The tears slip unbidden down my cheeks.
He finally shows up at my apartment at eight thirty that night.
I’m that mix of fury and relief when the door buzzes and I hear his voice for the first time in what feels like forever.
Until today I hadn’t realized how ingrained he’d become in my life. How many times I checked in with him, or smiled when I saw his name pop up on my phone. How I’d gotten used to the expectation of seeing him, of his strong arms wrapped around me. And how empty my life felt without him filling it up.
Ready for the mother of all fights I opened the door, set to scream at him. All the anger dies the second I see his face, and is replaced by fear.
One look into his cold, dead eyes and I know this isn’t going to be a fight.
It’s going to be the end.
I step back and hug myself, my skin suddenly like ice.
We stare at each other, the silence thick with finality.
He looks awful, like he hasn’t slept in a month. There are shadows under his eyes and his skin is drawn tight over his cheekbones.
The silence stretches between us like an endless chasm and when I can no longer stand it, I take a deep breath and do what needs to be done. “Just say the words, Leo.”
He looks away from me. “I can’t.”
He’s not going to get off that easy. If he’s going to leave me, he’s damn well going to confront it. Confront me. “Can’t what?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think I can do this with you anymore.”
“Why’s that? Is it just so good you’re determined to ruin it?” My voice is cold, giving no indication of my heart squeezing, threatening to burst into a million pieces.
When he says nothing, I say, “Is this about last night? Because I don’t care about that. You’ve got this all warped in your head, but that’s all it is, Leo. I don’t feel that way at all.”
He nods. “I know.”
Nothing makes any sense to me. “Aren’t you going to at least explain yourself? Don’t I deserve that?”
He takes a deep breath before slowly exhaling. Some dark emotion flashes over his expression but then it’s gone. “You know I’m not the guy you stay with. You’ve always known that.”
“I don’t know any such thing.”
A muscle clenches in his jaw. “I’m not cut out for commitment. I don’t want to be attached. Not to you. Not to anyone. Ever.”
I stare at him, my eyes narrowed and finally it dawns on me. I blink as the realization rushes over me like a freight train. I point at him. “Oh my god, this isn’t about last night at all, is it? You’re in love with me.”
A spark of panic flares in his eyes before it flames out. He shakes his head. “Jillian, please, you know I’m not that kind of guy.”
The truth settles inside me and not even god himself could convince me I’m wrong. I’m rock solid. It makes perfect fucking sense. I shake my head. “That’s bullshit. You love me and it scares the hell out of you.”
“I just don’t think this is going to work out.” His hands flex. “I’ve given it a lot of thought and it’s better if we end it now before anyone gets hurt.”
I don’t relent. Because I’m right. He’s running scared. I think about my conversation with Michael, about the walls Leo’s built around to insulate himself from other people. Well, I don’t care, I’m demolishing those walls. And no one, not even Leo can stand in my way.
I shake my head. “You’re lying. We’re right for each other and you’re terrified. That’s what this is about.”
“We need to end this.” I can see his struggle written plainly across his face but I can also see his resignation. His stubborn refusal to listen.
He’s going to end this and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
But I don’t have to let him go without a fight. If he leaves, and I know in my heart he will, I want him to feel the loss. To know what it will be like if I’m not in his life. Because Leo might be good for me, but damn it, I’m good for him too. I make him more fun, less controlled, more spontaneous. I force him outside the box of his comfort zone. Just like he does for me, only in a different way.
He laughs with me. I make him happy. He needs me.
As much as I need him.
I walk over to him, reach up and force him to look at me. “Don’t do this, because I promise, you’ll regret it.”
“Jillian…” My name is a croak.
I rise to my tiptoes and touch my lips to his, soft and fleeting. Tears sting my eyes as I wonder if this will be the last time I feel his mouth on mine. Maybe another girl would play it cool, but that’s not me. I will not make this easy for him. Again I brush my lips against his. “I love you.”
I let the words sink in and he shudders under my touch. He grips my waist although I don’t know if it’s to push me away or not. But I don’t give him the option to pull back.
I kiss him again, and he kisses me back, his mouth hard and desperate on mine. I tangle my hands in his hair and press full against him. I whisper against his lips, “I love you.”
His fingers tighten on my wrist. “Jillian, please.”
“Please what?” My voice is filled with all the need I have for him.
He groans as though in pain. “Don’t do this, don’t make it harder.”
I kiss him again, snaking my tongue past his lips and stroking against his. Our mouths meld together, my head slants to deepen the connection between us. To strengthen the bond he’s trying to sever. His arm moves and he pulls me close.
It’s a needy kiss.
I pour every emotion I feel into it—the fear, the sadness, the panic, but mostly the near desperate love I feel for this man who completes me. Settles me. Soothes the restless edges of my soul in such a way that I can finally think.
And he wants to leave me.
He growls and twists, turning us both as he presses me up against the wall, his body flush against mine. A perfect, perfect fit.
It’s right. So right.
I can’t let him leave me.
I pull him closer, squirming until I find that spot that was made just for me.
He rips his mouth away and trails his lips down my throat chanting my name in reverent tones. “Jillian… Jillian… Jillian.”
I gasp and tilt my head, offering him my neck, my pounding pulse, my very life. His hand comes to rest around my throat, his thumb stroking over the jugular. His mouth captures mine, and he sucks me under, catching me up in his storm and I’m willing to drown if it will save us.
And then, he’s gone.
Both of us breathing hard, he rakes his hand through his hair and shakes his head. “I can’t do this.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not right.”
My love isn’t going to change anything. All my violent emotions roil to the surface, threatening to burst. I lean my head against the wall. “It’s exactly right. You’re just too much of a pussy to claim what’s right in front of you.”
He swallows hard. “I know you don’t understand this, but I’m doing this for your own good.”
Before I can even process what I’m doing I reach out and slap him across the face. “Fuck you. Don’t even try and pretend you’re doing this for me.” A cold fury races through me and I yell, “You want to tell yourself a bunch of lies so you can look yourself in the mirror, go ahead.” I straighten and look him dead in the eyes. “But know this— I know you’re bullshit. I know. You love me and I love you but instead of
happiness you’re going to choose fear. You’re protecting yourself, not me. Because you know I’m the best thing that ever happened to you. Because with me, you’re not in control all the time and you hate it. That’s the truth.”
His expression twists, turns pained and a bone-deep loss flashes over his features. “I should go.”
I jut my chin toward the door. “Go ahead.”
“I’m sorry.” He turns to walk away.
When he touches the handle that will lead him out of my life forever I say, “Just remember one thing, Leo.”
He looks back over his shoulder, his eyes flat.
“I still mean what I said the night of Michael’s party. I’m done fighting for you. I’ve done it all these years and I’m not going to do it anymore. You want to leave. Leave. But know I’m not coming after you. We’re done.”
And with that, he turns back and walks out the door.
He doesn’t even slam it behind him.
Like a robot, I walk over to my phone and press Gwen’s number. When she answers, I barely manage to croak out, “Gwenie, I need you.”
There’s a beat of silence. “I’ll be right there.”
The phone drops to the counter with a crack and I sink to the floor and burst into tears.
He left me. He’s never coming back.
For the first time in my life I’ve truly committed, and it wasn’t enough.
Art, books, music, and movies, they are all lies.
Love does not conquer all.
Leo
I did something I’ve never done in my entire career and called in sick to work. Holed up in my condo, I wallow in my sorrows and try and tell myself I’m doing the right thing. I drank too much scotch, and was pretty much a miserable fuck.
I didn’t answer my phone, texts, emails or the buzzer.
After two sick days I’d been scheduled to be off for three days. Three days I’d planned to spend with Jillian, doing any number of depraved things to her. Letting her fill my life up in that special way, unique just to her. I couldn’t even define it. I didn’t even understand it.
But I was miserable without it. Without her. And I had no one to blame but myself. She hasn’t been ripped away from me by death. I did this. Late at night, when I’m awake, staring at my ceiling, I confront the truth. I’m doing the right thing. I just can’t live with the loss.
It’s bad, after only a month with her. How bad would it be after a year? Or two? Or ten? After she’s so ingrained into my life she’s a part of me?
What then? I can’t go through it again. People think it’s so easy, but that’s because they’re ignorant. I know what it feels like to lose your other half. To experience hell on earth.
With Jillian, I’ll never recover. I think back to the night of Michael’s party, standing there with that stupid, cocky smile on my face, telling her with complete confidence that she’ll never break me.
What a joke.
So I sit here, on day four of my solitude, and miss her like I haven’t missed anything since Tony died.
I find reminders of her everywhere. Her books scattered across my kitchen table. Her clothes draped over the chair in my bedroom. And her notes. Those fucking notes, in her pretty handwriting, that remind me just how perfect she is.
My phone rings and I look at the caller. It’s Michael.
I’ll lose him too.
It’s like every nightmare I’ve ever had come to life.
Jillian is right. I love her, but I’m too scared to take the risk.
It’s like a panic that reaches inside me and refuses to let go. That last scene with her keeps mixing with the day of my brother’s wake. How I’d sat there, staring at my twin in that casket, wondering how I could manage being alone in the world. The waxiness of death had made him both unrecognizable, yet entirely too familiar. He’d looked exactly like him, but his face was so similar to mine it had been like staring at myself too. A surreal experience of watching yourself get buried, that seemed entirely befitting. Part of me, the best part of me, was buried that day.
I’d wanted to throw myself into the casket with him, scream at him that he couldn’t leave me like one of those hysterical old women you see in movies at funerals.
But I hadn’t done any of that, I just sat in catatonic silence, my eyes never leaving him. His funeral was the last thing I’d ever share with him. The last piece of him I’d ever have. In silence, I’d carried on a million conversations in my head with him before they took him away from me forever.
I’d refused to leave the cemetery, insisting on staying even after the service was over. As they lowered him into the ground I vowed I’d never subject myself to that kind of vulnerability again.
And Jillian had ripped all that to shreds. Left me naked and bare.
Left me breakable.
The phone rings again and I see Michael’s name on the screen.
I ignore it.
He calls a third time.
I ignore it.
The door buzzer starts ringing.
I ignore it.
I get a text message. I’ll ring this fucking bell all night.
This I can’t ignore, because he will. Unfortunately, the guy has some sort of godlike patience.
Still, I give it a try.
He hammers the bell for ten straight minutes until my head can no longer take it. I push the button to let him up, and wait the two minutes for the pounding on the door to begin before I open it.
“What?” My tone is belligerent.
He punches me in the jaw, so hard my head swims.
I stumble, and fall on my ass.
“That’s for making my sister cry.” Then he holds out his hand and helps me off the floor.
Vision still blurry, my jaw a pounding ache, I sink to my couch and rub where he hit me, trying to focus on the coffee table and get my bearings. When I can speak, I say, “I deserved that.”
“Damn right you did. Probably worse, but I’m a nice guy.”
I laugh and it comes out like a croak.
“You look like shit.”
“Thanks. What do you want?”
He sighs and sits down on the chair. “I’m here for Jillian’s things. She doesn’t want to see you.”
It’s like a stab in the fucking heart. And sitting on my couch, my head hammering, my chest heavy I come face-to-face with another truth. Part of me hoped she’d come, had taken comfort in her possessions in my house. That somehow, she’d come and save me, despite myself.
When I speak my voice is hoarse. “I don’t have them together.”
There’s a heavy silence and I keep staring at the coffee table, my throat and jaw an ache, my eyes scratchy.
“She said she needs her books so she can study.”
She’s moving on. She’s not letting me stop her. She’s persevering. Everyone has her all wrong, thinking she can’t commit, she’s not like that at all. When it’s important to her, she will never give up. The difference is, that unlike most people, she doesn’t bother committing to things she doesn’t love.
“They’re on the table.” Where I spent far too much time looking at them.
There’s no sign of movement from where Michael sits and finally he says, “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?” God, I want him out of here. I remind him of what he’s always known about me, remind him why he wanted me to stay away from her in the first place. “You know I never stay with anyone long enough to matter. It ran its course is all. I should have followed my instincts and stayed away from her. I’m sorry.”
“I see.” His voice is thoughtful. “Is that why you’re a wreck? Because it’s no big deal and it’s run its course?”
I have no plausible explanation why I look like a refugee so I say nothing.
“You’re in love with her.” It’s not a question.
I love her more than I can even admit. “It’s over.”
“Nah, I don’t think so.”
I give a bark of bitter laughter.
“You should be happy, you don’t want a guy like me with Jillian anyway.”
“She could do worse.” He flashes a grin and I want to punch him for looking so casual and normal, a concept that now seems totally foreign to me. He shrugs. “She could do better too.”
My hands clench at the thought of her with another guy. Touching her soft skin, kissing her ridiculous mouth. An image of her, down on her knees, my cock a slow slide between her lips, those big hazel eyes flirting up at me.
She’s exactly right for me. Perfect.
But I don’t want to love anyone. Not now. Not ever.
Michael scrubs a hand over his jaw. “You’d better make this up to her.”
“You don’t want me with your sister.”
He shrugs again. “I’d like her to be with a guy I could pretend treated her like the Virgin Mary, but more than that, I want her happy. And you make her happy.”
He gets up and walks over to the table and starts gathering her books, putting them in a neat pile. I want to snatch them away from him, but don’t. He cocks a brow. “Anything else?”
“No,” I lie. She can’t disappear like she’d never been here.
I’m not ready yet.
He grabs her stuff and shakes his head. “As much as it pains me, she makes you happy too. In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you as happy as you are with her. You’ve lost a lot in your life, you deserve someone that will love you the way only Jillian can.”
Then he leaves, taking her with him, leaving me alone.
Jillian
“How is he?” I stare at my books now resting on my kitchen counter, feeling sick. I want to be strong and not ask, but I can’t help it. I’m desperate for information about him.
“He’s about as miserable as I’ve ever seen a person.” Michael kicks back, leaning against my counter, his large frame filling the room.
It makes me feel a little better. Because this is the most miserable I’ve ever been and knowing he’s suffering as much as I am is a modicum of comfort.
Sinful (Undone) Page 23
