And I really should have faked an urgent phone call when Samuel announced he’d booked a private box for the symphony’s performance tonight. I didn’t want there to be any questions about the funds’ legitimacy, so I made the donation to the symphony from the foundation. Samuel, the indulgent lackey, thought that meant I was a secret fan of classical music.
I roll the window down another inch, allowing the cool breeze to sweep into the moving car. It rained earlier, the scent and dampness evident in the spring air.
This will be my last visit to Chicago. My mother will claim credit for the decision, but it’s a choice I’ve put off for far longer than I should have. This trip—the first time not planning to see Carina—made it too obvious why.
I can’t get her stunned expression out of my mind. The flash of hurt when she saw Audrey clinging to my arm like a barnacle. The way she avoided looking at me after that.
If this were only affecting me, maybe I could justify it for a few more years. But she deserves more. Deserves better. Not the balding man who looked like his favorite toy had been taken away or the tattooed bartender who was checking her out. But there are lots of men in Chicago.Goodguys with normal jobs and boring families.
“Pull over,” I state.
The driver is smart enough not to ask questions. It sets off a flurry of honking, but he finds a place to pull over on Michigan Avenue.
“What’s going on?” Audrey asks, a thread of fear appearing in her voice.
I wasn’t sure how much Samuel had told her about me. Now I know.
“If I were going to kill you, I would have already.”
Her expression blanches, as she’s unsure if I’m kidding or not.
I climb out of the SUV, dropping the cigarette on the ground and crushing the glowing tip under my heel. I cross the sidewalk, stopping at the railing that runs along the banks on either side of the Chicago River. Rest my elbows on the metal bar, letting the collected water droplets soak the arms of my jacket as I stare down at the dark water below.
With a sigh, I reach into the interior pocket of my tux and extract the cheap old phone stashed there. Flip it open, reading the most recent message.
Thank you.
I instructed Samuel to make the donation to the symphony a recurring one. They will have plenty of funds to “expand” however they choose to. I wish I could be the one to tell her, and the urge unnerves me. I’ve never been preoccupied with credit before. I also wish I could explain tonight.
She went onstage and played flawlessly.
Carina doesn’t need me. And I can’t need her.
I let the burner cell slip through my fingers. It disappears into the river a few seconds later, sinking to the bottom, among trash and lost items.
I turn around and head back to the waiting car.
TROUBLE AHEAD
Isabella’s concerned gaze follows me from the kitchen to the living room couch and back to the kitchen once I realize I forgot a spoon.
I sit back down on the couch, placing a pillow on my lap as a makeshift table for my bowl of yogurt and granola, staring blankly at the television. It’s turned off, so I can see my haggard reflection on the black screen.
I’ve slept poorly the past couple of weeks. I stare at the ceiling, or at the pillow next to mine, or at the phones next to the glass of water I bring to bed every night. Sometimes, salt stings my eyes; sometimes, they burn with exhaustion.
I called him when I returned home. Full of resolve and indignation, planning to politely demand an explanation.
Lev didn’t answer. It didn’t even ring, simply went straight to automated voicemail. Since I’d never called him before, I had no idea if that was normal.
He hasn’t called back. Hasn’t texted since.
And … I know.
I can’t pinpoint why I’m so certain, but I am. That was it. The last time I’ll ever see him.
A small part of me is grateful for the conclusion. How many times did I tell myself that it needed to end? That it was unhealthy and ridiculous, disrupting my life to accommodate his visits? Ending relationships and lying to Isabella and foolishly hoping he’d be in bed when I woke up? He couldn’t have been clearer about what we were—or weren’t. Some of him was better than none, and now he’s taken that too.
Most of me is devastated.
