Park Avenue Prince(77)

“I don’t believe you,” she said, her eyes narrowed in confusion.

I’d tricked myself into thinking that I could be happy. That I could love. That I could live like other people. Grace’s accident had reminded me that could never be my life.

“It’s been a week. What could have changed so much?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I’m sorry if I led you to believe our brief fling was something it wasn’t.” I tried to keep my voice even and detached, as if I were negotiating the purchase of a new building, but what I was saying cut deep, each syllable a separate blow. There was nothing about my love for Grace that was brief or could be described as a fling.

“Sam, don’t talk like that. I know you don’t mean it. You’re just scared.”

I clenched my jaw. “I don’t want to get serious with you, so I’m scared?” I snorted. How dare she pretend to know me better than I knew myself? She’d never experienced what I’d been through.

“Yes, Sam. You’re scared of opening yourself up. Scared of loving me. But I’m here, by your side, and we’re going to weather the storms together. Don’t you remember? You said you’d try.”#p#分页标题#e#

I wasn’t scared.

I just knew how vicious life could be.

I was a realist.

I took my hands out of my pockets and leaned forward, placing my palms flat on my desk. I looked her straight in the eye. “I’m not scared of anything. I just don’t have feelings for you. You need to accept that.”

Her eyes welled with tears and her knuckles whitened where she gripped her crutches. “Well, I don’t accept that.”

I straightened up and put my hands back in my pockets. “There’s nothing I can help you with. Don’t make a fool of yourself.”

She gasped and it was as if someone had their hands around my heart and was squeezing and twisting.

The creak and stretch of her crutches filled the room. She shouldn’t be on her feet. I’d offer her a seat, but I needed her to leave. Every moment she was here, beautiful and warm and the woman I’d always love, I could feel myself weakening. “You should go, Grace. Can I call a car for you?”

I walked around her, keeping as much physical distance as I could between us as I made my way to the door. That didn’t stop her scent from filling my lungs. I fisted my hands, digging my nails into my palms, hoping the pain would be enough to distract me from what my heart was telling me to do. Comfort her, soothe her, love her.

My back to her, she screamed, “Sam!”

Fuck, why was she making this so difficult? I’d been mean to her. Cold. Nasty. She should throw me away and get on with her life.

I stopped, facing the door. “You need to leave.”

“I know you’re hurting, and I know that the accident must have been horrible for you,” she said. “But I’m fine. You’re fine.”

I didn’t move. Despite my abandoning her, even though I’d said such awful things to her, she was still trying to give me the benefit of the doubt, trying to see things from my point of view. She was an amazing woman, but I couldn’t be the one who told her so.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice cracked and small.

My hand went to the door handle. I had nothing I could say. If I looked at her now, I knew I’d go to her because I loved her too, and eventually it would be the destruction of us both.

I turned around to face her for what I knew would be the final time. I needed to deliver a knock-out blow. “I’ve told you I don’t feel the same. You should go.”

“Sam.” Her voice was full of tears and she leaned on her crutches as if they were keeping her afloat. “Please don’t do this. I need you.”

Those final three words gave me the strength I needed to open the door.

She shouldn’t need me.

And I couldn’t need her.

“Good luck, Ms. Astor.” If she wasn’t going to leave, then I would. I walked out of the office and away from the only woman I’d ever love.





Chapter Twenty-Two

Grace





“Please just drive,” I said to Harper as I closed the door. Somehow I’d found the strength to leave Sam’s building and met Harper waiting outside.

Harper pulled out and turned north on Madison. “Can we go through the Upper West Side? I just can’t . . .” There were too many memories on the other side of the park—the Frick, the apartment. I wasn’t up to a look-what-your-life-could-have-been tour.

“No problem,” Harper replied, grabbing my hand with hers and squeezing. “I’m so sorry.”