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I turn back to Jackson, who looks like he’s the one who just had his heart stomped all over. The goddamn nerve. I reach behind me, searching for the clasp on the necklace, struggling to get it off because now it feels like it’s choking me. “We are done. Don’t call me, don’t text, and don’t have anyone contact me on your behalf. You clearly can’t be totally honest with me, and without that trust, there’s no way we can be together.” I toss the necklace at his feet, spin on my heel, and avoid making eye contact with any of the people I pass on the way out of the ballroom.
I head straight to the airport wearing a ball gown.
24
THE LOGIC OF THE HEART
LONDON
I walk through the door to my apartment in Colorado at five thirty in the morning. I took a red-eye from New York and had to stop in Atlanta for a two-hour layover. I put my phone on silent to avoid the calls and messages from Jackson.
I managed to keep it together until now. But as soon as the door closes behind me, I sink to the floor and bury my face in my hands, letting the tears I’ve been holding back since I walked out of the Mills Hotel and hailed a cab to the airport finally fall.
I got a lot of looks at the airport and on the plane. I’m extremely grateful for virtual payment options, since all I had in my clutch was my ID, my phone, lip gloss, and a packet of mints.
I don’t know how long I sit there on the kitchen floor, sobbing into my hands, but my nose is running, my hands are wet, and there are discolored drops all over my dress, likely because my makeup has run from my tears.
“London? What are you doing home? Oh God. What happened?” Harley’s hand touches the top of my head, and then she’s on the floor with me, wrapping me up in her arms.
I sob even harder, falling apart, feeling the weight of this pain like knife wounds to my heart. “He lied.” I manage to get those two words out, but everything else is swallowed up by the pain.
And so I cry.
And cry.
And cry until every part of my body hurts right along with my heart. Until every breath is a gasp. Until there are no tears left to shed. Until I feel empty.
Eventually, I’m too dehydrated to cry anymore. The last time I shed this many tears was the day we lost our parents. I never thought my heart could ever hurt as much as it did then, but I feel this agony like grief. A loss like no other, because Jackson still lives and breathes, but he’s not who I thought he was. He had so many opportunities to be honest with me, but he wasn’t.
“I’m so sorry.” Harley sets a coffee mug in front of me.
“I was falling in love with him.” I shake my head. “I fell in love with him, and now I don’t even know if his heart already belongs to someone else.”
I explain what happened between hiccups. What I overheard in the bathroom, and then the conversation between Jackson and Selene on the balcony when they didn’t know I was there. How I knew he’d proposed in the past to someone, but that he’d left out the very important detail that he’d been sleeping with that very same woman on and off for years. They might not have given it a label, but it didn’t make it any less of a relationship. “Maybe it wasn’t serious, but maybe it was.” I pick up a strip of paper and can’t find it in me to start making a star, because now I associate those with Jackson too. “And now I’m the other woman and driving a wedge between two people with a history I can’t compete with. And frankly don’t want to.”
My phone buzzes on the counter. I turned it back on when I arrived home. The messages have been relentless. There are several voicemails from Jackson and plenty of missed messages, but there are also a ridiculous number of email alerts and social media comments. I’m terrified to look, in case it’s another round of death threats and hate messages from Selene’s fans.
“Do you want me to deal with this?” Harley asks.
“Please. I can’t right now.” I push my phone toward her, and she keys in the passcode. She and Avery have always had access to my phone, just like I have access to theirs. Although I don’t think I’d ever want to read the content of Avery and Declan’s messages.
“Do you want me to respond to Jackson? There are a lot of messages, and he’s expressed that he’s worried. I can tell him it’s me and that you’re home safe and would prefer that he doesn’t contact you right now?” Harley offers with sad eyes.
