Tristan looks calm, almost thoughtful. He doesn't look worried about the fact that we're face to face for the first time since we shredded each other at the bar. His lips are pressed tightly together and there doesn't seem to be anything playful or flirtatious in his eyes, but other than that he looks just as handsome as he always does.
He doesn't look like he's lost sleep or like a part of his heart has been ripped from his body. He doesn't look like I feel. He looks fine.
When Mrs. Turner’s voice comes through the speakers I finally come to my senses and tear my eyes away from Tristan. Jax's mom is standing on a small stage near the entrance to their house, looking over the crowd of people spread out in her backyard. I hear her say something about long-lasting love, but nothing is properly registering in my brain right now. I try to steady my breathing by looking for Jax.
But no matter how many different directions I turn, I can't find him. I automatically glance in Tristan's direction and lock eyes with him again—he still hasn't looked away from me.
I feel my skin flush as the panic starts to set in. I have to get out of here. I can't handle his eyes on me, can't stand the possibility that he might try to talk to me. Every time I look at him my heart aches all over again, his words from the past few weeks running on loop in my brain. I have to get out of here.
I silently beg Mr. Turner to speed up his declaration of love to his wife. He's also standing on the stage now, his arm wrapped lovingly around Mrs. Turner as she gazes adoringly at him. Just the sight of that is almost enough to make me interrupt their speech by making a run for the house. But I control myself, just barely, and keep myself glued to where I'm standing. As much as my body is screaming for me to look to the other side of the yard, I keep my gaze trained on Mr. Turner.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the Turners step off the stage and the music resumes. It feels like someone hit play on the party as the many sounds come back to life and people start dancing again. I don't notice any of it.
I leave my wine on a nearby high top and make a mad dash for the house.
* * *
I run down the stairs, trying so hard to get away from those blue eyes that I trip on the last step. I catch the banister before I can fall on my face but keep running. I need to get away from this place before I really start to break down.
I need to call an Uber, but I can't be standing out in the open as I wait; some family member will undoubtedly see me and want to chat. I spot the study to my left and duck inside before anyone can see me.
I take a deep, quivering breath as I try to compose myself. I still feel like I can't breathe so I rush over to the glass doors behind the desk and pull them open. The fresh gust of air feels so calming that I step out on the small terrace to lean on the railing. I close my eyes and begin counting my breaths.
I only get to three before I feel another presence in the room. Without even turning around I know he followed me in here.
"Don't," I say, my voice breaking.
I feel him pause his steps toward me. "Remy…" he starts. I shake my head, eyes squeezed shut, desperately wishing he would stop talking. That he won't make us do this right now.
"Remy, I didn’t mean what I said," he says quietly. "You're so far from a quick fuck that it's laughable I even said it. I don't know why I did. I just got so angry when I saw you with Jason…"
A startled laugh slips from my lips.It’s such a misplaced reaction that Tristan stops talking and waits for me to explain what could possibly be so funny. But I shake my head again and fall quiet. I can't believe he's still playing the jealousy card. Part of me is almost impressed by the fact that Tristan is fighting this hard to keep his booty call.
The power of a good pussy, I think bitterly.
"Remy…” I feel his hesitation before he starts again. "I'm sorry if I made you feel less than. I shouldn't have said it. You're worth so much more to me."
"Please stop," I whisper quietly.
He interprets my response as a good sign and takes a step closer. "Please just talk to me. Please tell me you didn’t mean what you said at the house. It's killing me thinking that’s how you really feel. Why are you trying so hard to push me away?"
And with that, the flimsy wall that I've tried to rebuild around my heart the last few weeks disintegrates into dust.
I spin around, tears now freely flowing down my face.
“Because,” I choke on a sob, my heart breaking for what feels like the millionth time, "I’m in way too fucking deep, Tristan. I can't go a single minute without missing you so much that it hurts. It feels like my heart is being shredded in my chest every time I even hear your name, and I can’t ever catch my breath. I can’tbreathe, Tristan.” I shake my head and look down at where my hands are nervously gripping my dress, unable to look at him as I admit the part that will break me all over again. “I can’t do this,” I whisper. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
But then it occurs to me that I’m not the same girl I was a few weeks ago. I’m no longer lying to myself about what does or doesn’t make me happy, and I’m not going to be ashamed of something that I know is the right decision.
So I lift my gaze to meet Tristan’s, unwilling to back down from a fight even though I know I’ve already lost. His eyes are bluer than I’ve ever seen them, yet they still don’t give anything away. I have no idea why he’s here or what he’s thinking. But it doesn’t matter, because I’m going to lay the truth at his feet anyway.
I look at him, strong and unflinching. “I know that I was just a piece of ass to you, but I guess I'm just another stupid girl because somewhere along the way... I fell for you. And I can’t do this anymore because I love you, but you don’t love me.”
A deadly silence falls on the room. I'm not sure what I expect him to say, but the longer he's quiet, the more cracks splinter in my hopeless heart. When it feels like it’s going to fall into irreparable fragments, I suck in a breath in an effort to keep myself whole for another minute, and turn to walk out the door.
"No," I finally hear him whisper. "No, no, no, Remy, no. You have it so wrong."
He rushes across the room to gently grab my wrist and spin me back to face him. He touches my chin until I reluctantly look up at him and blink away my tears. "Remy, listen to me. I am so, so sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t special to me. I thought my feelings were obvious, and I actually thought that it was you who wasn’t interested. I didn’t want to push you if it wasn’t what you wanted.” His hands grip my wrists, gently caressing my pulse-point as he looks at me with a raw emotion that I’ve never seen in his eyes before. It feels like he’s begging me to understand and believe him. “I didn't expect it to happen like this, so it took me a while to understand what I was feeling, but… I love you. I just didn't know it until you left.”