Page 69 of The Ghost of Exes Past

I feel her hands slipping from mine.

‘I should have told you at the start, I know that, but you were upset and angry to see me and it was your wedding day, and I didn’t know how to—’

‘How to what?’ Belle dips her chin.

‘How to tell you without losing you again.’

It sounds romantic in my head. It sounds like the right thing to say, the sort a hero would say at the end of a movie where he’s professing his love, but I watch it land on her face and that isn’t what she’s heard.

She takes a step back and lets go of my hands.

‘I wanted to tell you, I nearly did, about three times but—’

‘You’re saying that all of this …’ She turns, her voice level and controlled. ‘That I walked through every relationship I’ve had – watched myself with Sebastian, with Joe … I relived the worst parts of my life, the night before my wedding, because you told me my soul depended on it, but in reality you were just scared of losing me?’

I stand with my mouth open but nothing comes out.

‘Like you hadn’t already?’

I stare at my empty hands like a part of me is missing.

‘I know how it sounds.’

Belle brings her hands to her forehead and turns. ‘I wasn’t yours to lose, Jake.’

I freeze.

My eyes run over her face and she’s not blinking, not moving, but her chest rises and falls quickly, her hands cleched at her sides, her dress slipping from her shoulders.

‘Belle—’

‘Did you work it out, then? The thing that was so bad, you got stuck there – do you even know what you did?’

I know the answer. I’ve known since about halfway through the evening, maybe earlier. Every relationship we visited, every man she chose, every bad decision and emotional turmoil and walls she put up, my fingerprints are all over it. I know exactly what I did that was bad enough.

And now she’s asking me directly, as I’m sure Gabe will do too, and the words are right there in my throat, but I just can’t make myself say it to her face.

‘I know …’ I gasp.

Then silence. My mouth is dry and my hands feel pathetic at my sides. It’s there, the apology, on the tip of my tongue – the video, the smooth whisky bottle in my grip, being scared and drunk, everything I said, the holding her back, the controlling … I swallow.

I feel it then, before I can stop it. My mouth curling up, the air through my nose, my eyes squinting shut. A laugh.

Belle takes another step back and the distance between us widens from feet to years.

‘You laughed at me.’ Her voice sounds different, low and cold. ‘When I was twenty-five, in my bedroom, I told you I’d seen what you’d said about me and you laughed. Exactly like that.’

The room tilts.

‘I’m sorry, Belle …’ But my smile is still wide and her face is crumbling.

‘And then you left and then you died and I spent ten years wondering if you ever did feel sorry, and you’re standing here telling me you know, but you still can’t say it.’

‘Belles—’

‘Both times I tried to show you who I really am – when I told you I wanted more, let you in on my dreams of a fresh start, and then again tonight – and both times you’ve made it all about you. And what you were scared of. What you could lose. And then you laugh, because you can’t admit it.’

‘I can.’ My voice comes out weaker than I want it to.