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Basically how I imagined I looked at the moment.
“I found the card in my bra.”
Christian let out a crack of laughter.
“This isn’t funny. I was a horrible entitled bitch.”
“Well, it is funny. But you’re right. You were a bitch.” Christian chuckled again. “I owe you one.”
“No. We’re even.”
Bella was dressed in pajama pants and a tank top with no bra. Her hair looked like a tornado had blasted through it. For her to appear in public like that I figured she must feel pretty lousy about the night before.
“Why did you bail me out?” I asked her, curious. “You should have let me rot in there. I earned that spot.” I waited for Sophie to say something, anything, but she didn’t.
Bella chewed her fingernail. I could see that out of her ten fake fingernails at least two were torn off. “Because it’s my fault the night went crazy. I was so wasted and Sophie had to babysit me.”
Sophie was shaking her head and rolling her eyes. “That’s not the point, Bel.”
No, it wasn’t. “It’s not your fault. But thanks. I’ll pay you back today.”
Sophie was looking at the floor, her jaw set. I went over to her and whispered, “Hey. I’m so sorry.” I gently took her chin in my hand and lifted her head. There was pain and disappointment in her eyes. For a second I actually thought I was going to cry. Something I hadn’t done since Ali had told me the baby wasn’t mine. Those had been tears of betrayal, hurt. This was self-loathing. I hated myself. I absolutely hated myself, and I knew I could never make this up to Sophie. “I’m sorry about throwing the table. I’m sorry you fell.”
I ran my thumb over her skin. “Will you come outside and talk to me, just for a minute?”
She looked so cold, so remote. So closed off. I hated it. I had to try to make her understand that I would never hurt her intentionally. But she nodded and I dropped my hand and opened the door for her, my head pounding and my gut twisted in knots that had nothing to do with drinking too much whiskey.
Sophie walked out, wearing denim shorts and a T-shirt that had Harvard on it. It was a good reminder. That’s who she was. This was who I was. She tossed her dark hair back and looked at me. “What do you want to say? And for the record, I know you didn’t expect me to fall. But everything you said, that was intentional, and you didn’t bother to make sure I was okay. You didn’t help me off the floor, but you left me there, covered in spilled beer. I’m angry with you for that.”
“You should be. I’m sorry.” It sounded so weak. I didn’t know how else to say it. I drew in a deep, painful breath.
“I know you’re sorry.”
But it wasn’t enough. I could hear that in her voice.
She was right. I had never set out to pull her into my life, and it had been selfish when I had. She had asked me to let her go and instead, I had started a bar fight. Embarrassed and hurt her. I didn’t deserve her. She deserved better.
“You know how the story ends, Soph,” I told her, my throat raw and my ears ringing. I forced myself to look at her, even when I didn’t want to because it broke my heart.
She didn’t answer me. She just stared at me, her nostrils flaring.
“Eventually the big bad wolf consumes Red. He destroys her.” Like I would destroy her. Like I had already started to. “And I don’t want to do that to you. So you need to run. Just run as far away from me as you can.”
Sophie broke. A sob came from her. There were tears welling in those dark, beautiful eyes. “I know. But…”
There was a gigantic question in that single word. I knew what she wanted me to say. I also knew I couldn’t say it. Couldn’t give it. Not now. Maybe not ever. “I wish I could be a better man,” I told her gruffly. “But I’m not. And you do deserve better. And I would never forgive myself if I held on to you when I shouldn’t, fucking up your ability to move on and forget all about me.”
“You don’t get to decide how I feel,” she said, those tears running down her cheeks.
That one lacerated me. She was so strong. So stoic. She had trusted me, and I had betrayed her. Shattered her innocence. And yet she stood there, staring me down, and I was so damn proud of her. “You’re right. I don’t. So you tell me how you feel.”
“I feel like you hate your life more than you could ever love me. And I was stupid to think otherwise. I guess it’s true what they say—love makes you stupid. Even a girl like me.”
Was she seriously saying she loved me? If I could have made myself punishable by death, I would have accepted it right then for what I had done to her. “But smart girls learn their lesson,” I said gruffly. “And maybe someday you can look back and believe that I loved you too. Because I do.”
I had never meant to. I had never wanted to let her, or anyone, inside my heart again, because when you love you can be hurt. Like this. Like now. But I loved her because she was who she was. I hadn’t been able to prevent it.
“More than whiskey?” she asked, her voice plaintive and small. She sounded young, so vulnerable.
