Dammit.
Without giving it a second thought, I bend and lift her in my arms. She gasps and puts her arms around my neck automatically, her eyes wide. She’s light and warm, and my breath catches somewhere in my lungs.
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“Put me down, Dylan,” she whispers, but there’s no heat to it so I ignore it. I stride around the car, to the passenger side, where I let her slide down slowly, carefully. With a pang I realize I don’t want to let her go, and I clutch her to me a moment longer than necessary.
Then she slips out of my arms. She climbs inside, then fishes out a tip for the valet and holds her hand out until he takes it and goes.
Her door slams shut.
I blink. I feel as if I’ve stepped into an alternate reality, where I see Tessa, but I’m invisible to her.
It should bring me relief. It should make me glad. It’s what I wanted when I broke up with her four years ago, right after my mother left.
But it doesn’t. I don’t feel relieved or glad. I don’t feel happy.
Because the thought of her not loving me threatens to shatter me. Goddammit, how selfish is that? That I want her to love me even when I’ve done my best to pretend I don’t? Well, now it’s too late anyway. In fact, it’s been too fucking late since the start.
Too late to get her back.
***
The city lights streak by, and I force my eyes on the road, doing my best not to stare at Tessa’s sweet profile.
What’s wrong with me? All this time she was hanging around I ignored her, and now she’s giving me the silent treatment, and I can’t look away.
Maybe I’m a masochist. Maybe I like my pain.
I drive in terse silence, the reality of the situation slowly seeping through the fog in my mind. Fuck, this is stupid. What the hell am I doing? I’m dead tired, I left work on a whim, and I now have to get back to the gala hoping nobody noticed. I need this job. I need the money.
Shit. The pending rent, medical expenses and various other debts rise to haunt me. I step on the gas, as if I can outrun my problems.
“The first on the left,” Tessa whispers, and I take the turn, my hands white-knuckled on the leather-bound wheel.
Her street is wide and long. Trees border the sidewalks. The buildings are tall and very white, their glass and chrome facades lit up, all festive and shit.
Just like my street. Ha, right… So not.
I recognize her building, as I’ve picked her up from here a couple of times with the guys. We usually park at the front to wait for her to come down.
“Underground parking lot?” I ask, and she nods.
“Round the back.”
The bar lifts, and we roll down, into darkness. Yellow lights come on as we descend and drive between parked rows of shiny new, expensive cars. It’s like a car show. I manage to keep my jaw from hanging slack as we continue to Tessa’s assigned slot, marked with the number of her apartment. Seven hundred twelve. Seventh floor.
I park and kill the engine. The lights inside the car switch on, startling me. The old Ford of Dad’s I inherited didn’t have such features. Hell, it didn’t start two times out of three during winter, and the overhaul the engine needed wasn’t worth the money spent. Then I was forced to sell it, and it didn’t matter anymore. That was years ago.
“Well, thanks for driving me home,” Tessa mutters.
“You’re welcome.” I stare out into nothing. “Will you be okay?”
“I’ll be okay.” Her voice is low and kinda hoarse.
I turn to look at her. In the faint light, her face looks paler than ever. Then she shifts, and as the sleeve of her woolen gray coat lifts, I see a ring of red bruising around her wrists.
A dark pressure is mounting inside my chest.