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It’s still early, which means the sun hasn’t fully set yet. The sky is red and orange with wisps of lavender clouds, and the air is hot and sticky, making me feel constricted in my suit. I tug at my tie, desperate for some air.
It takes me all of three seconds to spot Claire down the street, head buried in her hands. Her body is shaking, quiet, heart wrenching sobs echoing along the quiet sidewalk.
Everything hurts. I never meant for this to happen.
I go to her, and fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever moved so fast.
A cab stops in front of her and she lifts her head just enough to grab for the back door.
“Claire,” I plead, reaching out for her.
She pauses halfway into the car, head down.
“Claire,” I repeat softly. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, Claire. Please, talk to me. Let me explain.” She jerks her hand away the second I reach for it, her silky skin slipping through mine.
She inhales deeply, the sharp breath crackling, and climbs into the car. When she reaches for the door to tug it closed, she looks up at me.
The pain that swims in those massive green eyes, red-rimmed and bloodshot, kills me. Crimson lips swollen, beautiful face soaked to the bone with tears, Claire is an utterly beautiful and heartbreaking mess.
“Claire,” I choke out. “Please don’t go, baby, please.” I’m about ready to drop to my knees and beg her to stay here with me, to just be with me. If that’s what it takes, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for this woman.
But Claire raises one small hand, swiping her fingers across her wet eyes, spreading black mascara around. She sniffles, breathes out a husky goodbye Avery, and shuts the door.
The cab drives away, with Claire and my heart in it.
***
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Claire
I thought I knew heartbreak when I found out Aaron had been cheating on me, deceiving me, using me, lying to me. I thought I knew. I was so sure it couldn’t get any worse.
But I was wrong. This is worse. This is so much worse.
This hurt I’m feeling right now from seeing Avery and that girl together, dancing, kissing, is so physically painful I actually consider that I might be having a heart attack. Everything hurts. My chest is tight. My back aches. I can’t stand up straight. It feels like my heart is being pulled from every angle, seeing how far it can be stretched. My stomach is all knotty and tumbling to the point that I’m clutching it with one hand while I run toward the front doors of the condo building, waiting for my body to decide that it can’t take it anymore before I finally either vomit or my legs give out.
The door opens and the concierge ushers me in. “Are you okay, Miss Thompson?”
“Just fine,” I manage without looking at him as I tear across the front foyer, slamming the elevator button a thousand times in three seconds. One set of doors opens right away. At least something is working in my favor tonight.
“Claire!”
My head whips up without my permission to find Avery running toward me, looking wild and distraught. I start hammering on the close doors button over and over again. I can’t do this right now. I can’t see him. I can’t let him see what a mess I am over him.
“Claire, wait!”
The doors slide closed right before he reaches the elevator and I jump back when I hear a pounding thud on the other side and a loud fuck!
Sinking back in the corner, the tears keep flowing, louder now, wracking my body, and I just pray nobody else gets in this elevator before the twenty-sixth floor. In this elevator. This elevator. The very one where Avery gave me a mind-numbing orgasm down on his knees. The very one where, last night, I just about blurted out that I love him.
Love. Fucking love. Is this some kind of a cruel joke? That I would fall in love with someone like Aaron who would hurt me, destroy me so permanently, make me vow to never want to fall in love again, only to do it right away and with the worst person imaginable for me, for my stupid, fragile heart?
When the elevator stops on my floor, it takes me a few moments to get enough of a hold of myself to drag my feet out and down the hallway, still barely seeing through the pools in my eyes. I’m sure I look like a vision right now, snot dripping from my nose, face blotchy, raccoon eyes. I rub at my face and—sure enough—my fingers come away black.
Resting my forehead on my door, I take three deep breaths, hiccuping between each one.
And then another set of elevator doors spring open.
