Tony confirms it when I call him. “She left very early, with Aidan.”
I call my brother as soon as I figure they’ve landed.
Aidan sounds like he’s pissed at me. “I was just going to call you,” he says reproachfully.
“Where is Rachel?”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“I’m asking you.”
He sighs. “At her apartment. We dropped her off a few minutes ago.”
“Okay.”
“Landon, if there’s something—”
I stop him. “Everything’s fine. I just wanted to know she was home.”
After that, I deal with the silence from her.
I love you.
The pleasure of hearing those words from her lips is quickly drowned by the realization that she’d rather end things than be with me right now.
And why wouldn’t she?
Almost from the first night we met, I pushed her, hounded her, ignored any resistance from her, and gave her almost no choice but to be with me the way I wanted.
I told myself I was ready to give her the world, but I never considered giving her myself.
Because you don’t consider yourself worthy to give.
My inner voice is right, yet also wrong, because despite everything, she loves me.
You don’t need to do anything.
Oh, but I want to. I want to confront her, demand she comes back where she belongs—with me. I want to convince her she’s mine.
I want to tell her I love her too, more than I can explain or articulate.
I always get everything I want.
But not this time.
This time, it must be her choosing to be with me, not me pushing forcefully through the distance she has put between us.
No matter how colorless my life is without her.
No matter how much I miss her.
The next few days are busy, both in San Francisco and when I return to New York. I push myself hard, refusing to think, because when I don’t think, I don’t feel like I’m dying inside.
I close a few deals, travel, and attend a party in Europe, seeing Rachel’s face everywhere I look.
I love you.
When I get back in town, I find reasons to be around the Gilt building in the mornings. When I see her, it makes my loneliness more bearable.