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Too hurt to reach out to me in any way.
I broke him.
I saw it in his eyes when I walked away from that stairwell.
I tore his heart right out of his chest and basically trampled all over it with my Louboutins, poking little holes in it with my heel, making sure I successfully shredded his love for me into tiny pieces. For all I know, I blew those same minuscule pieces away like shredded confetti on the floor when I rushed to make my grand escape out of there.
But I couldn’t stay there for another second.
Not when that beautiful man, whose strong will defied all logic, looked so fucking broken just standing there, lost and alone in a sea of misery of my creation.
Not that I’m doing any better.
Ever since that night, I feel like a piece of me is missing.
That I left something behind on that stairwell with him that I’ll never get back.
And the worst part is thatI’mthe villain in my own story.
Me.
I’m the one who caused me to feel this way.
Me.
I have no one else to blame but—you fucking guessed it—me!
And that is what’s so tragic about this whole thing since suffering for love was exactly what I had been protecting my heart from all along.
Kudos, Piper!
You did a bang-up job!
Idiot!
“Fuck!” I shout angrily at the wind, the ocean sea breeze doing nothing to reduce my pain.
I suddenly feel a tug on my Christmas sweater, breaking me out of my reverie and alerting me that I’m not alone on this beach like I thought I was.
“Mom,” I sign exasperatedly when I see my mother trailing behind me. I don’t have the energy to talk to anyone right now. Especially my mom, since she’ll probe and prod until I tell her what’s wrong with me.
“I just want to walk with you. Nothing else,” she signs, keeping her expression as blank as possible. “Promise. All I want to do is walk down this beach with my daughter. Nothing else.”
I scrunch my nose, not buying it for a second.
My mother is a woman full of strong opinions and even stronger emotions, so I know this past week it’s been killing her not to ask me about Trent. I knew she wouldn’t ask me in a room full of people where the Moores could see us. If Harold or Lorelei even suspected that I was seeing someone, they would ditch Christmas altogether, preferring to sit around the kitchen table and get all the tea, forcing me to tell them every little detail of my relationship with the magnetic GM.
Those two love to gossip.
But then again, so does my mom.
Shit.
I bet they already know and are just acting like they don’t, for my sake.
Great.
Fucking great.
