“I’m calling it off, Ash.”
To my left, I could see a guy down on one knee, getting the right angle, capturing it all on video. I knew I needed to keep my shit together. But what was happening?
“Do you not like the ring?” I held it, stupid, looking into her face. “I can get you another one? Maybe something smaller?”
She shook her head no, not a trace of her usual sweetness or humor. This Ana was all business. “I’m done, Ash. I don’t love you.”
My mouth fell open. It literally felt as if she’d taken a sharp knife and stabbed it directly into my chest. What was this kind of pain?
“Is this because I got drunk in Mammoth?” I tried. Was she jealous? “Nothing happened with any of those girls.”
She shook her head, dismissing me, refusing to engage. “I’d say I hope we can stay friends. But we weren’t ever really friends anyway.” She gave me a rueful glance, the first time she’d looked straight into my eyes. It felt worse, like she’d twisted the knife. And I still could think of nothing to say, standing there like a fish out of water gaping in the air.
“Good luck with everything.” She turned as if to start walking off.
“Wait!” I caught the elbow of her sweater, taking a step closer to her. “Ana, can’t we talk about this? Can we go somewhere more private?” Flashes blasted off all around us as paparazzi captured every word, every expression.
“What’s there to say, Ash?”
“I don’t want you to go.”
“You don’t get to decide that. I do.”
“But…” More flashes. Men clustered around us, one literally rolling along a huge movie camera. The whole thing had clearly been staged. I just hadn’t been in on it. Lola must have known. Was Lola behind all of this?
“Is this what you want, Ana?” I tried, desperate.
“Yes, it is.” So firm, so cold. I barely felt as if I knew her. Maybe she had been pretending all along. Maybe this had just been a carnival ride for her, a few weeks of backstage passes and a trip to Paris plus some hot sex thrown in for kicks. Now if I could just pay for the library and step out of her way, please.
“I’m…” I swallowed. Even the breakup that we’d supposed to do in a few days would have been better than this. That I would have expected, could have prepared myself for. This? This felt like a swift kick in the groin while the ref looked the other way.
“Let me go, Ash.” She spoke quietly, just to me.
“If it’s what you want.” I couldn’t help but look into her eyes, trying to get her to meet my gaze. But she wouldn’t.
She steadfastly looked down at the ground as she insisted, still emotionless, “It’s what I want.”
Had she faltered, shown any sign of confusion or wavering in her decision, I would have pressed. Sensing a fault line, I would have tried to widen the crack, break apart her certainty. But she didn’t show any sign of weakness. She stayed clear, crisp and direct.
Then she walked off. I stood there, a big jerk with the rejected engagement ring in my hand. The thought occurred to me that I should pull myself together. I shouldn’t stand there looking forlorn and dejected. But I felt trapped in a movie I definitely would have changed the channel on, the kind of melodramatic scene where it started to rain hard on the leading man because his heart had just been broken. And damn if I didn’t feel a drop on my shoulder, that San Francisco fog stewing into something thicker. Had Lola arranged for that, too?
Ana walked right up to the street and climbed into a waiting car. She’d planned all of this, right down to the camera angle. I should feel betrayed, even angry at her.
But all I could feel right then was a fist of pain curled tight in my chest. That’s what finally got me moving. Pain like this, it was mine, private, and I finally gathered my wits about me enough to swear at them all, shoving away a guy who’d come straight up into my face. Striding toward the street, I found a taxi to climb into myself.
Ana didn’t love me. Why was it only then, when she said that she didn’t, that I fully realized that I did love her? I loved her. How was that for shit timing?
If I’d clued in earlier, woken her up in the middle of the night in Mammoth and told her I couldn’t live without her, would that have changed things? But it was too late now. Now she’d rejected me, thrown back my ring, walked off and told me to have a nice life.
Why did everything get symbolic when you felt sad? The taxi stopped at a light and in the gutter I saw an old, discarded sneaker. Had that sneaker once been loved, part of a cherished pair? Had it been surprised when its time had come to an end? Had it expected it, a hole where the big toe had poked on through giving it proper warning? I bet it hadn’t. I bet it had been shocked as hell to find itself alone and forgotten in the gutter of life.
I knew I was being melodramatic, looking out at a battered sneaker in the rain and feeling kinship. But, damn it, I felt exactly like that sneaker. Cast to the side, laces untied, I’d come undone.
CHAPTER 10
Ana
Through my tears, I heard a knock on my hotel door. I didn’t know why Lola hadn’t booked me on a flight until five. That seemed like an impossibly long time to wait to leave, and now I had company. It had to be Ash. Who else could it be? But I didn’t think I could handle seeing him again.
He’d looked so devastated when I’d ended things at the park. Of course, that was the whole plan. If he’d laughed it off and said “no problem, sweetheart” the whole thing would have been a waste. The world would have learned what it already knew: Ash Black was an asshole. I’d been the only one out of the loop on that.
A knock again. Keeping the deadbolt chain on the door, I opened it a crack. Connor.
I sighed deeply. “What do you want?”
“Hey, now. Is that any way to greet your old friend Connor?” He leered at me.
“How did you find out where I was staying?” Only Lola knew, and I’d only told her about an hour ago. She’d arranged for a car to come pick me up at three.
“Lola knew you might need a shoulder to cry on.” There was that grin again. It gave me the creeps.
“I’m not really in the mood, Connor. Sorry.” I moved to shut the door right in his face. Such rude behavior from the librarian! But I was long past worrying about offending Connor.
His foot jammed into the door quick and fast, stopping me. The chain still held it closed, though. Suddenly, I felt glad I’d left it on.
“Come on now. Ash is out of the picture. We can pick up where we left off.”
“What are you talking about?” This man was disgusting. And why was he so relentless with me? It couldn’t be because he found me irresistibly sexy. He surrounded himself with far more X-rated eye candy than me. No, he must get off on going after something that belonged to Ash. Ick.
“Don’t tell me you don’t remember, luv?” Now he laid on the Irish brogue thick. “That night at the party. You were all over me.”
“I was not.”
“Let me help you remember. Unlock this door and let me in.” He gave me what I figured he thought was a charming smile. He was a rich and famous guy, so I guess it worked on lots of people. Not on me, though.
On me, it had the opposite effect. I got a cold chill down my spine and I remembered, clearly, when I’d seen that exact smile before. He’d been handing me a strange-tasting glass of punch at the New Year’s Eve party. It all came together.
“You drugged me,” I realized, out loud. “Didn’t you?”
“That’s quite an accusation.” He stepped back, hands up in surrender, feigning hurt.
“That night at the party,” I insisted. “You did, didn’t you?”
“Sometimes a girl needs help loosening up. It was for your own good.” He gave me a wink. “Am I right?”
I’d show him loosening up. In a move I later recognized could have gone very badly, I unfastened the chain on that deadbolt and stepped right into the hallway with him.
I looked him straight in the eye. “Co