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“Oh, right,” he replies, nodding once.
He’s about to walk over, his gaze softening for a moment. I think he wants to kiss me. My whole body aches for him right now. So badly…
“I’ve already called myself a cab,” I say, struggling to keep my smile on.
He frowns, the disappointment setting in his voice. “I could drive you.”
“Nah, it’s cool. I think we took the method acting a little too far last night, anyway,” I shoot back, trying to laugh the whole thing off. “We’re okay, though, I promise. No strings attached, whatever. The deal goes on as discussed and everybody’s happy.”
“Becky, hold on—”
“Oh, my phone just vibrated it in my purse. Gotta go. Thank you for last night, Todd, it was… it was wonderful,” I manage and rush out of the apartment so quickly, I barely register the moment I’m finally in the elevator, metal doors smoothly sliding shut in front of me.
I can still smell him on me. Even after the shower, I can still smell his cologne on my skin, and it brings hot tears to my eyes, hot tears rolling down my cheeks as I break down and cry. I am miserable and lonely once again. I have already crashed and burned, it seems, sooner than I had anticipated.
Even before I set foot in his kitchen, I had breached the atmosphere.
I had left the stars behind.
I saw this coming. It’s not like I can even act shocked about it. I knew it would come. Yet I convinced myself that inching a little closer to him wouldn’t hurt. That feeling his lips on mine would be worth it. That losing myself in his essence would be a price that I would gladly pay. Well, I did. I paid. And now, I stand in this descending elevator, weeping like a little girl while my heart is scattered all over the floor in tiny bits and pieces.
He's not sticking around. He doesn’t give a damn about me or Elliot or anyone else, for that matter. He only cares about himself, and he has made that crystal clear since day one. I’m the one who was stubborn and silly enough to think he’d somehow make an exception for me. Like I’m so frickin’ special.
Yeah, I saw this coming. It’s on me.
CHAPTER18
TODD
Something happened, something I can’t undo.
The following weeks roll by without a hitch. At work, Becky does her thing; she’s always on time, she delivers every design with Swiss precision and earns praise from her department on pretty much everything she touches. On our side of work, she teaches me about raising Elliot and making myself sound like a real dad. She comes with me to every meeting that John organizes—breakfasts, dinners, brunches. They’re few and far between, but they require enough work and attention to detail from both Becky and me to keep us busy for days.
Yet on an emotional level, I feel her slipping away.
Something happened after that night. That night. I can’t get it out of my head, even now. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, ever, and it’s a scary thing to admit to myself. All I know is that it pains me to see her so distant. I’d thought that night together would break barriers and bring us closer. I didn’t imagine she’d slip away like a late morning dream—the kind you forget as soon as you open your eyes.
I can’t stop her, either. I must respect the boundaries she sets.
Sometimes, when we’re alone, I try to reach out and touch her. But she always knows to give me a pleasant smile before she pulls away. She always finds an excuse to get away from me—except when we’re with John. No, when we’re with John, Becky is deep in her role. She kisses me whenever he or Tamara can see us, and she has me believing we’re for real. Yet as soon as we’re out of the Douglas-Mackie radius, she turns jarringly professional.
It hurts me on a deeper level. It bothers me.
It shouldn’t. I’m going to leave, aren’t I? I’m going to leave everyone and everything behind. I’ve got her and Elliot set for life, because Elliot deserves the best, and Becky deserves a better man than her ex and definitely a better man than me. And if I’m going away, why does it bother me so much that she’s keeping a safe distance? It’s a reasonable thing to do.
Except… going away doesn’t sound quite as appealing as it used to.
Not anymore.
“It was a fun night, to say the least!” John exclaims as the four of us come out of Studio 23, one of San Diego’s swankiest nightclubs. The place is packed and loud and filled with bright lights—the perfect spot to drink dangerous cocktails and listen to ear-bleeding music. “We should do this again!”
John and I have spent most of the evening talking shop, discussing details about our upcoming business deal. We’ve had time to go over every possible hitch with an open mind and reasonable expectations. In the meantime, Becky and Tamara danced the night away, reliving their college days as they lined shots at the bar and made friends with various dudes who were more than willing to buy them more drinks. They had plenty of fun skinning those suckers, and they had my and John’s full support.
“It was so cool!” Becky exclaims, lovingly clinging to my shoulder as we wait on the edge of the sidewalk for our cab to arrive. She’s wearing a shimmering silver dress, tight and short, and high-heeled boots. The cat-eye makeup and glossy red lipstick do all sorts of things to me, but I keep my cool and my arm around her waist while we play our parts. “I shouldn’t have had that last cocktail, but you know what they say…”
Tamara chimes in at the same time, “You only live once!”
The girls laugh their hearts out, and John and I laugh, too. It was a fun night, yes. For a moment I was even foolish enough to think that Becky wasn’t acting, that she was really into me when she gave me that playful teasing dance. I could see the promise of more in her smoldering hazel eyes, but I know now that it was just a dream. She’s still pulling away from me.
