“I’m sorry, Logan,” she says with her eyes still closed.
“Nothing to be sorry for.” I’m quick to say the words, shaking my head, completely aware that I’m in denial. She’s not leaving me. She can’t.
“It’s over,” she says as she covers her face with her hands, finally releasing the doorknob.
Her shoulders shake and I pull her closer to me, but she pushes me away, shaking her head.
She turns to look up at me with tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes as she says, “Just let me leave.”
The words resonate with me. I’ve heard them before. My mother told my father that I don’t know how many times. I do what my father never did, and back away from her. I stare at the wall of frames and try to ignore the sound of the door opening and then closing. Leaving me alone as I struggle to breathe.
This was going to happen. It’s the way these things work. I try to convince myself I’m telling the truth, but it doesn’t stop the pain. I brace myself against the wall, in complete shock and disbelief. It hurts. The crippling pain brings me to my knees. I lean my back against the door, not wanting this to be real.
I finally had something I never thought I would. And I let her slip through my fingers. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.
I stay in that position for I don’t know how long. Letting the scene play out again and again. I finally move, but I feel as though I’m not really here.
At least she’s away from me now.
I walk out of the office, and it all falls into a hush. A few phones are ringing and some people are typing, but the sounds of keys clicking dims as I lock my office door.
I don’t make eye contact with anyone, although I can feel them all staring at me. This is what she went through. I fucking hate them all. I clench my hands into fists and ignore my secretary as she stands and says something. I don’t hear it, it’s all white noise.
I take the elevator to the parking garage. I don’t even know if my car is here. I’ve been using the limo so I can spend quality time with my Rose.
I don’t know if her car was here. I call her as I head to my car. I need to make sure she’s okay.
It rings and rings. She doesn’t answer.
My car’s there, parked in my spot.
I get in and sit there for a moment. And then I finally put the keys in the ignition. I don’t turn it on though. I keep hearing her words play in my head. It’s over.
She’s sorry. She knew she shouldn’t have.
My head falls back against the headrest and I stare at the cement brick wall ahead of me.
I don’t know what to say to convince her otherwise. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t try to convince her otherwise. But what we had felt so good. So right. It felt real.
The sound of a car’s horn from outside the garage wakes me back to the present. I finally turn the car on and drive home.
A long time passes with no sound, and I don’t even realize it. I debate on turning up the volume, but I don’t want to. I wouldn’t listen to it anyway.
When I walk inside, my house feels colder and emptier than usual as the keys clank against the table.
Charlotte’s dry cleaning is on the entry table. It’s there to greet me.
I walk past it and straight to my bedroom.
I lay on the bed fully clothed and look at the ceiling. My chest hurts. My body hurts. I can hardly stand the pain. The cell phone’s right there. I know where she lives. I need her in this moment. I know she’s what I need.
I pick up my phone to call her, but can’t press send. It’s my fault he did that to her, and I can’t take it back. There’s no fix to this. I deserve this pain. I knew I was no good for her.
I close my eyes, hating that my actions caused her pain. That I ruined her.
I never thought this would happen though. Anger simmers beneath the pain. I grip onto it. Needing it and feeling alive again with it.
I’ll ruin Patterson. I’ll make sure he pays for what he did to her.
Chapter 29
Charlotte
I wish I could afford to tender my resignation, I think to myself as I set my glass of hot tea down on my desk and peck out a response to an email. Then I’d be gone like the wind.
I lean back against my headboard in my PJs, working on my laptop, sitting cross-legged in bed. I’m trying to focus on getting work done, but all I can think about are the events of the past few weeks that led up to this. The pain, the humiliation. These emotions haunt me daily and makes it hard for me to focus on important tasks. I wish I could just leave. But quitting means giving up this apartment and my paycheck. I have no savings. I have to keep working. I applied to nearly sixty jobs yesterday, none of them in my field. I’ll take the pay cut and start at the bottom. I never wanna go back. I take in a shuddering breath. I have to until I have something else though. At least Hastings is letting me work from home.