“Of me?” The words hurt, a physical, throbbing ache in my gut.
“We signed a contract. You take those very seriously.”
“Fuck the contract, Piper.” My voice lashes.
She gasps. The pain in my core builds. She’s just come face-to-face with her abuser. She must be shaken and hurting, and I’m not helping.
I lower my voice. “You have no idea how many contracts I would break for you. This isn’t just about me. You don’t trust me, either.”
She doesn’t deny it. I don’t know what else to say or do. I want to argue my finer points, convince her to take me as I am, make her promise not to leave me. I want to beg and plead and get on my knees… but this is Piper. I can’t treat her like a business deal—like something to be won. I want her to choose me without coercion. But I’ve always known I’m not the lovable type.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“I know.” She sniffs. “I’m sorry too.”
“Where does this leave us?”
“I don’t know. I need a little time to think.”
“Right. Time.”
If she needs time, I’ll give it to her. I’ll rip out my heart and leave it at her feet if she wants it. Although that organ is suspiciously silent.
With nothing left to say, I hang up.
“Would you pass those crab things?”
I reach over, grab the container of food from the side table, and pass it to Carson.
“Thanks. Why didn’t I know you had a freaking movie theater in here?”
“Because this is probably the first time he’s used it,” Guy says, shoveling noodles into his mouth with chopsticks.
He’s not wrong. We’re sitting on the black leather recliners, some ridiculous movie playing on the screen in front of us. I’m not sure what it’s about. I stopped paying attention after the credits. Carson insisted it would make me feel better, but all I feel is worthless, wretched, and annoyed.
On screen, the blond woman shoves gourmet chocolates into her mouth.
“Oh, do we have chocolate?” Carson asks.
Guy perks up. “I brought cupcakes.”
My whole body recoils. “No cupcakes.” My voice is a whip.
Carson smacks my arm with the back of his hand. “Maybe I want cupcakes. You’re not the only one going through heartbreak here, you prima donna.”
Guy laughs.
I scowl. “So glad we’re amusing you.”
I can’t tell them why I’m so averse to cupcakes, especially Scarlett’s cupcakes, which is probably the type that Guy brought with him. It doesn’t matter. It’s not the cupcakes’ fault. Everything reminds me of Piper. My office, my bed, my car… water. I can’t even hydrate without thinking about her.
She’s still been using the studio space downstairs, but we haven’t talked, texted, or seen each other at all over the past four days, three hours, and—I check my watch—twenty-seven minutes. Carson said the three of us needed breakup bonding time, and as a sign of my mental destabilization, I didn’t even question it. I immediately called Guy and then ordered mass quantities of food. I let Carson pick the movie.
On screen, the blonde who was eating her body weight in chocolate chucks the whole box at the TV. Hm. The idea has merit. I eye the takeout container in my hand.
“Don’t do it,” Guy tells me.
I blow out a breath and try to focus on the movie and not on the emptiness in my chest.