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“Cat...”
“I want you to leave. Get out and leave me alone. Don’t call the office, don’t come to the parties, just get out of my life.”
Something inside me broke, and I could feel myself crumbling. What could I say that would have any meaning when she threw something like this at me? I needed to say something, anything. She slammed her last point home so hard my heart was on the floor, and I couldn’t fucking get it back. I had no excuses, but I had apologies. I tried moving closer, but she pulled from my grip and pushed me back off the bed.
I was standing, trying to hold her, reality fading into the background as my panic surged and took me over. I’d put the truth aside just to spend one more hour in her arms, but I was going to lose her forever, and I couldn’t make sense of it. We were talking. We were trying to fix it, right?
I was. I said it. I said I wouldn’t let her go, but somehow, she was ushering me out of the bedroom and into the living room, towards the front door as she tore my chest open, my heart shredded to pieces. I held onto her and cried. I actually fucking cried, dying for her to see some sense.
She did the same thing she’d done with Bunny in her office. She let me babble while gently herding me to the front door, all my words rushing over her, none of it landing. Before I knew it, I was standing outside her flat, the door closing in my face.
I was shell-shocked, numbness seeping through me as I fell into the darkness of grief. I’d lost her. She was gone. I don’t know how long I stood there, staring at that tiny peephole in her door, wondering if she was still there, watching.
Something cracked inside me, the precious thread that kept me sane falling away, my link to her broken and done. I knocked on the door.
“Cat?” My voice echoed down the corridor. “Cat, baby, open up, come on.” I started knocking, banging, pounding on the door, trying to get back in. The darkness was taking over, dread overwhelming me. It wasn’t right. This couldn’t end. We’d given each other so much; it couldn't disappear over one argument. “Please, don’t do this. I need this. I need you. You can’t lock me out. Look, come on, just talk to me, let me in, and I can explain. Please. Cat? Cat?”
Each time I said her name, I banged on the door, desperation clawing at my throat, my voice hoarse as I begged.
“You need to go, Max.” Her voice sounded muffled through the door.
No, I couldn’t leave. I refused. She called my name in the middle of the night as I slid into her, crying out for me. There was no fucking way she was chucking me away like this.
“Please don’t do this, Cat. I promise I’ll never lie again. I’ll never do anything to hurt you. Just let me back in, please. Please. Cat. Come on.”
Anything. I’d say anything. I didn’t care how fucking impossible it was or cliché or dramatic. She couldn’t get rid of me just by closing the door.
“At least leave with some dignity,” I swear I felt her pained sigh in my body. “Don’t make me call security.”
I was silent after that, my palm flat against her door as I sank to the floor, like holding it would somehow keep me connected to her. I sobbed pathetically. Quiet chokes racked my chest and seared my throat, astounded by how easily she had pushed me out. Suddenly, I was alone and empty.
How the fuck was I supposed to do any of this without her now that I knew what it meant to be connected to her? How was I supposed to go on with my life if she wasn’t with me?
I don’t know how long I sat there. Long enough that I was shivering by the time I dragged myself to my car. The paps snapped photos of me, but none of them approached me or called my name. Maybe I looked so pathetic that even the paparazzi felt pity for me.
Everything seemed worthless and pointless, and the black pit that had been threatening to swallow me, the one I thought had vanished when she let me in, opened its mouth and smiled.
Cat
They were still there. A glance out the front window showed two of the bastards parked on the main road leaning against their cars, cigarettes lit, cameras around their chest, ready for a party. They’d been snapping shots of anyone even walking near my building. They definitely got one of Max when he left. I’d sat at the window watching him drive away. He passed straight by them before a car pulled out from the side of the road and followed him.
I was hoping I could wait them out over the weekend, but the story was too big to give up after one day. I had to show my face at work, at least. I was sure when the paparazzi found out who I was, Harris would pull me into his office.
I was the only person in this building with any links to Bun. As soon as they saw me, they’d make the Fischer-Collins connection, and my life would be ruined until this died down.
My first celebrity scandal. Mum would be so proud.
Thick sunglasses, a headscarf, and unassuming clothes. All a clear sign I was hiding something. I was waiting at the back entrance of the building. My town car was sitting on the other side of the alley, but there was a man in an oversized jacket and a bloody fedora who’d been standing under the same lamppost since 5 am, showing no signs of moving.
I’d say it was a twenty-metre sprint to the car. All I had to do was wait until he was distracted and take him off guard.
Today was not a day to fuck with me. I’d spent two days trapped in my flat after my breakdown and subsequent argument with Max, and I was ready to blow. I needed out. All I was doing was stewing, making the situation worse by imagining all the potential ways I could eliminate Max from my life while dealing with being ripped open again, knowing it was my fault. If I didn’t get out soon, I was going to be crushed by cabin fever.
I could do this. Deep breaths.
A car horn sounded at the opposite end of the alley, and the man turned his head. I burst out from the back door clutching my bag, glad for the impromptu trainers. The moment I left the building, his head snapped back to me, and he moved. There was no chance I would beat him to the car, but I pushed on. He opened his arms to catch me, and I rammed him with my shoulder, hoping the shock of the impact would knock him back.
He grabbed me instead. I tried to fight, slamming my heel into his toe and sending my fist into his stomach, but he had already swiped my glasses before my knuckles hit his gut.
