Her eyes roam my face, unfocused then decisive. “Because I don’t want this,” she says in a low whisper. “I don’t want to be with you. I meant it when I said you can’t give me what I want.”
The words are like a thunderclap in my head. An unfamiliar pain spreads in my insides. I release her hand, letting her go. The car inches forward, and as soon as we reach her building, she reaches for the door handle.
She can’t wait to leave.
“I…” Her voice falters. “Thanks for the ride.”
I let out a bitter chuckle that mirrors exactly how I feel inside. “I should thank you for making it clear to me, without any doubt, that I can’t always get what I want.”
She flinches at my words. Her green eyes are large in her beautiful face. One moment, they’re fixed on my face, almost as if she never wants to stop looking at me, and then without a word, she’s gone.
Chapter 18
There’s a copy of the latest Gilt Travel on my desk when I get to the office. I turn to Rachel’s feature about the Gold Dust and read it over and over. It’s not surprising to me how well she writes. I didn’t lie about reading her prior work.
Forget about her, Landon. She doesn’t want to be with you.
Still, I leave the office to make the trip to a florist, choosing a bright bouquet of purple lilies and yellow orchids then sending them with a note that simply says Great article.
I want her to see the flowers and think of me. I want her to know somewhere in the same city, I am thinking about her.
It’s almost pathetic.
You can’t give me what I want.
Let her go, Landon.
But I can’t. Not yet. I can’t.
I have dinner with a business associate, and after, I have a drink alone in my apartment. Everything seems so empty without Rachel. I’m unable to stop imagining her out with Weyland, and it makes my solitude even worse.
When I can’t bear it anymore, I call her phone, like a drunk-dialing ex-lover in a sad love song. I watch her name on the screen and listen to the electronic ringing on her side.
I just want to ask if she got the flowers.
I’m not calling to interrupt her date.
I just want to hear her voice.
Pathetic.
After two calls go straight to voicemail, all I can think about is her in bed with fucking Weyland.
I don’t plan to drive over to her place, but I find myself there, waiting in my car, feeling like a fool, not even sure what I’d say to her.
I park outside her building and notice that her bedroom window light is off.
Go home, Landon.
Don’t be a stalker.
She’s probably still with him.
Fucking Weyland.
It takes a few meditative breaths before I feel like I can drive back to my place. I’m about to pull into the street when a cab stops in front of the building and Rachel emerges, alone.
A group of guys walk past her, and my jaw tightens when one of them whistles in her direction. She ignores him and heads for her door.