Page 55 of The Truth of Us

Caleb physically recoiled as Julian swore under his breath. Harper closed her eyes and made to walk out of the conference room, away from me…

"The arrangement was over." The words sounded hollow even to me. "It wasn't cheating."

Her laugh was soft, but sad. And somehow that hurt more than if she'd screamed.

"Sure, Elliot." My stomach dropped. Because she sounded done, truly done. "Maybe it wasn't cheating." Relief rose, but then she finished. "But what you did is worse, because you set out to hurt me." I felt my whole body shake; her words felt like nails in a coffin. "You knew I cared about you. You told me you wanted us to be something more… so I showed up."

I couldn't answer. Because she was right. I felt like I wanted to claw my way out of my skin when she said, "In my life, I have learned that cheating or the illusion of it isn’t the worst betrayal. It isn’t what causes the greatest harm."

The room disappeared; there was only Harper. Only those blue eyes. Only the truth.

I wanted her to turn so I could see all of her. I wanted…

She moved towards the door. I followed, reaching for her; the desperation was vivid and raw. I wanted to explain, but how do you explain what you don’t even understand?

"Harper."

She stopped, and for one terrible second hope flared. Then she looked back, and there was nothing there. No affection or warmth. No second chances.

"I hope you find what you're looking for, Elliot. Goodbye.”

And then she was walking away, her team following behind her. I stood frozen, everything spinning through my mind. The fear, my feelings for her, my parents, my choice…

No… No!

I started to go after her, but a hand clamped around my arm and then Rowan was standing in front of me with a look I didn’t understand. Julian followed them out of the office, no doubt trying to smooth things over.

I don’t know how much time had passed, but eventually Rowan stepped away, and Caleb’s hand left my arm. No one said anything as I left the conference room. I moved on autopilot as I left the office. The drive home was a blur of traffic lights and anger. Harper's voice kept replaying in my head.

“You asked me to come there because you wanted me to see it.”

“You wanted us to be something more… so I showed up”

I gripped the steering wheel tighter. Because she was wrong. Wasn't she? I did nothing wrong; I hadn't cheated. I hadn't broken the agreement. I hadn't…

The thought died before it could finish. The same way it had all weekend. Because every time I tried to justify it, another voice cut through the bullshit.

“You set out to hurt me.”

By the time I pulled into the underground parking garage, I had a headache forming behind my eyes. The elevator ride to the penthouse felt endless. The doors opened; I moved through my space quickly, reaching for the bar cart. I needed to silence my spiralling thoughts; I needed to get her eyes, her voice out of my head… I shot back half a glass of scotch before refilling it and turning. Immediately, something felt off. I frowned. There were boxes off to the side of the elevator doors. A lot of boxes. At first, I assumed they were holiday deliveries or corporate gifts. Something my team had arranged. Then I noticed the wrapping, and my stomach dropped.

No.

I crossed the room slowly, like if I moved too quickly it would all become too real. Because somehow I already knew. I just didn't want to admit it.

The first box was from Cartier. The second from Tiffany. The third from a boutique I'd shut down for an entire afternoon because Harper had casually mentioned liking a scarf she'd seen in a display window, and that led me to buying her everything that went with it. The fourth was from a bookstore. The fifth from a boutique that had a dress I needed to see on Harper. The sixth…

"No." the word came out rough.

I opened the nearest box; inside sat the scarf. Still folded, still wrapped, still untouched. She told me she didn't want my money, didn’t need my gifts… she just wanted…

My chest tightened, so I grabbed another. The earrings. Another. The bracelet. Every gift. Every stupid, overpriced gesture. Every piece of evidence that she'd mattered.

Returned.

My pulse started pounding.

"No."