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I fall to the edge of my bed and bury my head in my hands. Fight as I may, the tears fall. I can’t make my heart stop wanting him—loving him—but my head can’t let go of the past. I can’t be his consolation prize again. Or his secret.
He’s tried to convince me things would be different, and God help me, I want to believe him. I’ve tried to believe him, but then everything that’s happened floods my mind, and all my love and faith dissolve into bitter rage. The knowledge that I’ll always be his second choice never lets go, and maybe it’s wrong of me. He lived an entire life before he met me. I could never be his first choice because he was with her first, but what he said to me long ago refuses to be forgotten.
How do I compete with that? Was it ever really a competition?
No. It wasn’t. I am the consolation prize he never wanted.
A few hours later, I stare out the window of the plane as it touches down. My chin rests on my closed fist as the stupid tears stream down my cheeks. The dam has broken, and now I can’t get the shit to stop.
It feels like it takes forever to get through disembarking and baggage claim. Hailing a cab seems to take a lifetime, making me wish I’d ordered a rideshare, but I finally swipe one away, only feeling a little guilty. I practically knocked an old lady over to get it. An eternity later, I’m stepping through the private penthouse elevator.
I don’t acknowledge the sex noises or the girl with her tits flopping around as she gets pounded into from behind since the jackass doesn’t bother to stop when I walk through the living room. My focus is on not thinking about being in the same position hours ago.
I pass by two of the three downstairs bedrooms before getting to the one I claimed that overlooks Central Park. The heavy door slams shut once I’m inside, then I walk to the bed and collapse.
Weariness is bone-deep as I sink into the feather mattress. The travel, the adrenaline, the hours of sex followed by two hours of sleep… all of it has my muscles aching and heavy. My lashes flutter against my cheeks, sleep taunting the edge of my mind, when the door flies open.
I guess he needed to finish his quickie with the model before he came in here.
“If it isn’t the superstar. I figured after the giant beat that guy’s ass, you’d be on the first flight home.”
“Go away, Thad.” I don’t even attempt to lift my head or open my eyes.
“How was tree climbing?”
I want to glare. I try to glare. But it loses all potency when the tears fall.
“Oh shit,” he hisses and crosses the room. “What did he do now?” He grabs me, pulls me up, and wraps me in a brotherly hug that makes me cry harder because suddenly, I want my actual brother, but I can’t go to him because he doesn’t know anything.
“H-he didn’t do anything.” I sob hard, gasping through the words. “But it changes nothing. He still went back to her.”
“Lily, it was probably just the one time. He doesn’t strike me as the cheating type.”
I shake my head, snot covering his stupid Armani shirt. “H-he’s not, but he still wants her. I know he wants me, but if he had the choice, he’d choose her.”
“Why do you even think that?”
“Be-because he told me. He said he’ll always love her.”
His chest lifts, his breath fanning my hair. “Lily, I think maybe you’re misinterpreting it.”
“Then why did he fuck her, Thad? Even after they split—after she remarried—he kept going back to her. And that night… Krista bragged about how he called her. Said they were getting back together.”
“Lil, they were together for a long time. Some bad habits are hard to kick, but if she were telling the truth, why aren’t they together now?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she… She was probably playing with his head again.”
“Or maybe she lied.”
“Then why not tell me that?”
His hands wrap around my arms, pulling me away from him. Dark eyes meet mine, and the sympathy I expected is replaced with seriousness and a touch of disbelief. Maybe even a little annoyance. “Because you won’t let him, Lily. You shut him down. I’ve heard you shut your friend down when she tried to talk about it, too. I heard you on the phone with her when we were in California. She tried to tell you something, and you told her you didn’t want to hear his name or anything about him and hung up on her.”
My hair brushes my shoulders as I shake my denial. “No. If he had anything but excuses, he would’ve found a way to tell me.”
“And if he had anything but irrefutable proof, you wouldn’t believe him. Anytime anyone suggests there’s more to it, you shut down.” He stands and glares down at me with more disappointment and anger than I thought he was capable of.
My hands fly across my cheeks, wiping the moisture away as my heartbreak turns to anger. “It doesn’t matter.” I tighten my fists into the duvet to prevent myself from slapping the look he’s giving me from his face. “Liam and I are done. I won’t keep riding the same merry-go-round.”
