I nod, trying so hard not to show how I’m feeling, even when I’m sure it must be written all over my face. ‘Right.’ A bright smile. ‘Of course.’ I step into the foyer.
‘Thanks for coming tonight, Avery. We know how hard it was for you.’
‘It was a lot easier than I thought it would be, actually.’ I can barely smile. I’m numb at the idea of Barrett going away again so soon. ‘See you tomorrow.’
I turn and leave before I can do something really stupid like cry, or ask Jagger for advice on how to fix everything with Barrett.
An hour and a half after leaving the penthouse, I’m starting to think waiting for Barrett was a really stupid idea. Three cups of coffee and I’m restless and uncertain and wondering if maybe he’s going to stay in the penthouse rather than leave it—or perhaps he’s got another room in this hotel? I was banking on the fact I thought he’d follow me out, but ninety minutes have passed and there’s still no sign of him.
Which leaves me with what? What are my options? I lift my phone from my bag and open our messages. But when I scan up through the history and see the last ones we sent each other, my heart feels like it’s going to break.
There’s a place in South Beach—The Lighthouse. Do you know it?
I can Google.
Great. Four o’clock?
Sure. See you then.
That’s what we became in the end. I hurt him on the Disneyland night. I did everything he accused me of—pushed him away, because he’d broken through so many barriers by then I was terrified of never being able to put them back in place.
Now my biggest fear isn’t that I’ll get hurt or be left alone, it’s that I’m incapable of being in a relationship with someone and not hurting them. And the idea of hurting Barrett like I already have, of doing that again and again and again because of who I am is enough to turn my blood to ice.
I love him. I really do, but when I think about it I realise loving him means walking away from him—for his sake. Barrett Byron-Moore is one of the kindest, sweetest guys in the world and he deserves a woman who will bring him only happiness.
That’s not me.
‘Oh, crap.’ Tears sting my eyes. I stare at the coffee cups for a second and feel like a total fool. Pulling a twenty from my purse I slide it under one of the saucers and stand up, blinking my eyes furiously. Out of habit I scan the foyer, right as the elevator pings open and Barrett strides out, his head bent, his eyes fixed on the ground before him. I stay where I am, staring at him, my body paralysed into inaction, watching him walk across the lobby.
This is it—the moment to let him go, to do what I know I should. Am I really strong enough though? At the doors he lifts his head, looking towards me without intending to find me, with no idea that I’m still there. I can see that on his face—the genuine shock in his features. He stops walking, turns to face me, stares for several long seconds so I have no idea what he’s going to do, and then, finally, he walks in my direction.
My heart leaps and leaps. My stomach crunches.
‘Avery?’
I nod. Then feel like an idiot. He wasn’t actually asking my name—it was shorthand for ‘why are you still sitting here?’
‘You left hours ago?’
‘An hour and a half,’ I clarify defensively, then grimace because it’s not a substantive fact to dither over.
‘Right. Did you—?’ He frowns. ‘Were you wanting to see them again? To go back up?’
I shake my head, words failing me.
Crap. Don’t cry. Just—hold it together.
‘No, I—’
Make something up! Tell him you had an urgent work call! Anything other than admit the truth.
‘Didn’t feel like going home yet.’
He nods, like this makes perfect sense even when it’s quite absurd.
‘And now?’
‘I—’ He’s going to call me a cab. He’s going to help me get home, because that’s what Barrett does. He helps, he’s kind, he’s awesome. Suddenly, the fact he once loved me makes me want to weep because the gift of his love is just about the best thing in the world and I threw it in his face as though it were worthless.