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My stomach clenches at the sight of him, and I hate myself for fully trusting him and allowing my heart to so freely become his. Somewhere in the back of my mind, warning bells should have been going off. After all, we started out as a lie; it makes sense that we would end on one.
Sucking up my pride, I quickly move around his room and collect my things. I have to get out of here before he wakes up. I feel humiliated enough without it being shoved in my face any more than it already has.
Glancing at him one more time, my heart feels like it’s being ripped from my chest as I force it to silently say goodbye, and tiptoe out the front door.
The elevator comes, the doors slide open, and I step in.
On the back wall, there’s a mirror and I gasp at the sight of myself. Swollen lips, color in my cheeks, tired but bright eyes, crazy hair. It’s easy to see what kind of night I had, and staring at my refection, I suddenly feel guilty for trying to sneak out versus confronting him.
The doors close and I don’t move. If I do, and the elevator leaves this floor, I can’t get back.
Regret engulfs me and the weight of it bends me as I collect my wits.
Maybe the media is wrong. This wouldn’t be the first time.
Ugh.
What am I doing? This is stupid. I can’t leave here without talking to him first.
Running my hand through my hair, I suck in a deep breath, and hit the “open” button.
Taking the walk back to his front door, my heart slams into my chest. I’m nervous, scared even. I feel out of control of this situation and I hate it.
Quietly cracking his door, I’m startled when I hear Ash’s voice, my eyes flying up to see Clay standing at the edge of the living room.
“What’s wrong?” Ash asks as he approaches him cautiously.
What’s wrong? It’s eight thirty in the morning and Clay knows I’m here, well, at least he thinks I am. Oh my God. What if there’s something wrong with Emma? Prickles break out across my skin; I should just walk in, but something deep inside is warning me not to.
“D-d-did you a-a-ask Juliet to m-m-marry you?”
WHAT?!
No, no, no! This can’t be happening.
Ash lets out a rush of air, takes a step back, and tucks his hands into his pockets. He’s thinking about how to best answer Clay, when he really doesn’t need to—it’s written all over his face.
Oh my God.
My hand starts trembling on the door. I so badly want to close it because I know what’s coming, but I can’t.
“It wasn’t like that,” he says calmly, shaking his head. The defense in his tone is apparently not what Clay wants to hear and his entire body stiffens.
“That’s not what sh-sh-she says. Sh-sh-she says y’all are talking about getting m-m-married.” He takes a step closer to Ash and his hands fist and flex at his sides.
Ash’s eyes track the movement and his brows furrow.
“We did. If you’ll just let me ex-”
Without warning, Clay’s fist slams into Ash’s jaw knocking him backward and I feel like it was me. I feel sucker punched straight in my stomach and I can’t breathe. Ringing fills my ears and tears cover the burn in my eyes.
Forget the text. This is so much worse. He just admitted to his best friend that he talked about marrying that girl. Marrying! And recently!
Why is this happening?
Splintering grief.
Absolute desolation.
