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I shake my head, fighting an overwhelming urge to cry. “No... Don’t. You don’t have to go.”
He nods and walks away without another word, leaving me trembling. Would he leave now? Go back to join the party? Maybe end up somewhere with Ava…
I sit on the edge of the bed, my head in my hands. I’m so confused. On one hand, I know I’m doing the right thing. For myself, even for him.
But on the other hand…
Tears fill my eyes. My mind flashes with all the moments of tenderness from the past two weeks, every moment when he’d made me fall deeper and deeper in love with him.
Tell him how you feel.
My mind recoils from the idea. I hear jack’s voice in my head, the day I told him that I loved him, all those years ago, the brutal dismissal with which he’d rejected me.
I’ll die if that happened with Landon. I just know that something inside me will wither and die.
If you don’t tell him, he’ll never know.
And I’ll always wonder. I breathe. I needed to be brave. If I tell him, and he rejects me, then I wouldn’t be able to fool myself anymore. I’d have to move on because there would be no other alternative.
Outside the bedroom, the hall is empty, and so is the other smaller bedroom in the suite. The living room is also empty, dark and silent.
I start to panic, imagining him going to spend the night somewhere else, with someone else.
Then I notice the breeze and the curtains billowing from the open glass doors to the balcony.
I approach uncertainly, suddenly not sure about what I want… what I have to say. Pushing the curtains aside, I step out into the cold night air. Landon is standing by the railing. He’s no longer wearing his jacket, and his shoulders are broad, but hunched in his white dress shirt. He has a drink in one hand, his face turned towards the many lights of the city.
As I watch, he raises the glass to his lips, then places it carefully on top of the railing. He makes a sound, like a sigh, then straightens and runs a hand through his hair. He looks dejected, and so alone that it’s heartbreaking to watch. I take a deep breath.
“Landon.” My voice is so low, I’m surprised that he hears it.
He turns, so fast, his face coming alive with intense emotion that disappears in the space of a second. He turns back around without saying a word, and I watch as he picks up his glass again and takes a long drink.
I take a step forward, but his voice stops me.
“What do you want?” He sounds as cold as ice.
“I have…” I falter. “I wanted to talk.”
His laugh is mocking and bitter. “You’ve already said it all. We don’t work.” He turns to face me again. “What else is there to say?”
“Landon…”
He shakes his head, “Stop. Rachel. Just stop it.” His eyes hold mine, intense and burning. “I’m done,” he says. “I’m sick of the mixed messages, the drama…” he laughs again. “You always have an excuse to walk away, no matter what I do. I get the message now. You’ve proven beyond any doubt that you’re out of my reach…” he sighs. “You really should leave,” he says. “I intend to get well and truly drunk tonight.”
He starts to turn away, his hand reaching for the glass again.
“I love you.” The words burst out of my lips, soft enough that I can almost convince myself that I didn’t say them, but loud enough to make Landon stop in his tracks. He turns slowly, facing me with an uncomprehending frown. I close my eyes, and when I open them again, he’s still looking at me. My heart is pounding, my chest heaving as I search his face for a reaction, waiting, hoping, and praying that I won’t regret what I’ve just done.
“I love you,” I repeat, slower this time. “I’m in love with you.” I look away from the blaze in his eyes, my gaze falling to his chest. “I have since that week we spent together. I… I didn’t want to fall in love with you, and I didn’t plan to, and it has hurt…” my voice breaks, but I continue. “It has hurt every day, knowing you don’t feel the same way.” I meet his eyes again. He looks as if he doesn’t understand what I’m saying. I swallow. “I just… I thought it would be easier if I let you go.”
His brow is creased. I breathe, unnerved by his silence, by the lack of a reaction. “I didn’t want something that at best was just a prolonged hook-up. And now I don’t want a relationship that has no chance of becoming something more, because I won’t be able to bear it.”
His eyes close, and my heart breaks as I feel the wave of regret emanating from him. This is where he’ll tell me that he’s sorry, that he doesn’t feel the same. I clench my fingers, at least I’ve told him how I feel. Whatever happens from here on, it’s up to him.
“You don’t have to say anything,” I say softly, even though my heart feels shredded. I didn’t expect him to tell me that he felt the same way, but the reality hurts. It hurts so much.
But I’ve bared my heart to him, and the pretense is gone, along with the weight of having to live a lie every second I spend with him. I no longer have to pretend that what we have is enough. Even if I lose him now, I won’t blame myself.
