Broken Juliet (32 page)

“No, I didn’t.”

“So you
lied
to me?”

“No, I never told you I took it. You just assumed I would.”

I’m so close to screaming my head off, it’s scaring me. “When exactly were you going to tell me? On your way to the airport?”

He looks down at his hands. “I’ve tried to find the courage to tell you dozens of times. Then I think about actually leaving, and this … hole … opens up inside me, and it hurts too much for me to even think about it.”

It hurts him too much to tell me he’s
leaving me
?!

My throat constricts as pain spills into my chest like molten heartache. I try to slow down my breathing. To push down my anger. I can’t.

“Fuck you, Ethan! I offered to pass on
Portrait
to save us, and you wouldn’t let me!”

“
Portrait
isn’t the problem!” he says and steps toward me. “Even Connor isn’t the problem. The problem is me, and how you are when you’re with me. It’s not healthy, Cassie. I want to give you so much, but all I do is take, and I’m going to end up like a lead weight around your ankles. You can’t tell me you don’t already feel it happening.”

“So you’re leaving? Running away like that’s a solution?”

“I don’t know what else to do.”

“You could stay! Fight for us. For me.”

“I have been fighting! And losing! Don’t you fucking get it? You’re better off without me. You always have been. I was just too in love with you to admit it. Now I’m doing the only thing I can think of, and you should be fucking grateful you’ll finally be free of me.”

He’s panting and wet-eyed. I’m trembling with emotion.

There’s so much I want to say to him, but it jumbles and trips over itself until I’m left with nothing. No clever barbs. No entreaties. No begging him to change his mind.

Nothing.

Nothing.

No. Thing.

My heart beats like a living wound inside me. I close my eyes against the pain.

After a few breaths, bitterness floods my system, and I finally go numb.

It’s strange. Like a natural anesthetic.

When I open my eyes and look at him, I feel impassive and cold. Shut down. Part of me registers that I’ve gone into shock, but I don’t care.

I shrug. “I guess that’s it, then.”

“Cassie…”

“You’re going to miss graduation.”

“If there was any other way—”

“Have a good trip. I’m sure you’ll be a fantastic Mercutio.”

I turn to leave. When I’m almost at the front door, he yells, “Wait!”

I stop but don’t turn around. I feel him behind me, close but not touching.

“Cassie, I…” He exhales and it ruffles my hair. “I hate this. I hate myself. Please…”

He touches my hand, but I pull back like his fingers burn. Then I do what I should have done months ago. I walk away from him and don’t look back.

Present Day

New York City, New York

Graumann Theater

We walk out of the theater, exhausted. Besides doing the show every night, we’ve been coming in during the day to make sure Ethan’s understudy is fully prepared to go on tomorrow night.

Working with Nathan has been interesting. He’s an excellent actor, and even though our chemistry is very different, I think the audience will still respond to it.

Ethan has been surprisingly cool about our love scenes and even gave Nathan some advice about where to grab my butt to make lifting me easier. When I saw he was totally fine, it gave me the confidence to relax and just do my job. At that point, I could swear I heard Marco breathe a sigh of relief.

Ethan and I walk home in silence, hands occasionally touching. The familiar ache of wanting him stirs and intensifies. It gets steadily worse as the hours count down to his departure. My panic adds to the mix and demands I do something about it. Touch him. Kiss him. Remind him of all the ways I can make him happy, so he doesn’t even consider not coming back.

When we reach my apartment, we both shuffle nervously. This is going to be good-bye, and that thought makes my veins run with ice.

“So…” he says, and gives me a smile. “I guess I’ll see you in a week.”

“You’re going to be amazing. Enjoy yourself, okay?”

“I’ll try.”

We stare at each other for a few seconds before he steps forward and hugs me.

His breath is warm on my neck as he whispers, “I’m going to miss you so fucking much. Promise we’ll talk every day.”

“We will.”

“You and Nathan are going to be great together.”

“I’m still going to fantasize that he’s you.”

“Good.” He pulls back. “I love you.” He kisses my forehead, and I lean into his chest.

When he steps away, I almost lose it. The disconnect is immediate and painful.

“Stay,” I say as step toward him. “Come in and have some wine, or whatever. Stay for a while.”

He puts his arms around me. “If I come in, I won’t want to leave.”

I stroke his jaw. “Then stay all night. Your flight doesn’t leave ’til tomorrow.”

He tightens his arms, and sighs. “Cassie … we can’t.”

“Why not? I want you. You want me.”

“Your therapy—”

“Is going really well. Dr. Kate is happy.”

“She wouldn’t be if she knew we’d slept together.”

I trace his lips. “She doesn’t have to know.”

He takes my hand away from his face and kisses it. “Yes, she does. And you dialing your sexiness up to eleven is an unfair weapon to use against me.”

I look up at him and try not to seem as desperate as I feel. “Just five minutes?”

“If I stay here for even one more minute, I’m going to forget all the reasons I shouldn’t make love to you. If I do that, I’ll have no chance of getting on that plane tomorrow, and my agent would murder me, and possibly you. So I’m going.” He doesn’t move.

“Okay.”

“Tell me you’ll miss me.”

“I’ll miss you like crazy.”

He lets out a long breath and grazes his fingers down my face. “See you next week.”

“Okay.”

I watch as he goes to the elevator and pushes the button. Then I watch him step inside and wave as the doors close.

I stare at those elevator doors for a long time.

They don’t reopen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

ENCORE

Three Years Earlier

Westchester, New York

The Grove

The shower water runs cold, and I realize I’ve been pressing my forehead to the tiles for a really long time. I get out, wrap myself in my robe, and crawl into bed.

I’ve barely left it for the past three days. Barely eaten.

Ruby is spending the week in Hawaii with her rich Australian boyfriend, so I don’t even have her to kick my ass. I haven’t told her about Ethan. I can’t.

She warned me this would happen. I should have listened.

My phone rings, and I check caller ID before ignoring it.

It’s him.

Again.

He’s called dozens of times, but I never answer. I don’t know what he thinks I possibly have to say. It’s not like I could change his mind. I don’t even think I want to anymore.

Fuck him.

Fuck him and all the ways I still love him.

When it stops ringing, I call the local pizza place and order a large pie with everything. I figure if I’m going to spend the evening wallowing, I need the appropriate supplies.

Half an hour later, there’s a knock on the door, and my stomach rumbles. God bless thirty minutes or less.

I stop dead when I open the door to find Ethan standing there with my pizza. Every hair on my body stand on end at the sight of him. I want to be hard and unaffected that he’s here, but I’m not. My heart races as my numbness begins to fade.

He holds out the box. “I … paid the guy for you.”

I snatch it from him with trembling hands.

“Oh, you paid for my pizza? Well, that makes up for you being the world’s biggest bastard. Thanks.”

I shove the door, but he stops it with his hand. “Cassie, please—”

“Let go.” He has to leave. Now. Before I fall apart.

He steps forward so his body is blocking the door. “I’m leaving tomorrow. I came to say good-bye.”

Just the word is enough to bring me to the edge of tears.

Good-bye.

Not “See you later,” or “See you tomorrow,” or even “I’ll call you.”

Good-bye.

I turn away and fight for air as I take the pizza to the table. I don’t invite him in, but he comes anyway. When the door clicks shut behind him, I clench my jaw so hard, my teeth grind.

I don’t turn around. If he has something to say, he can say it to my back. My face will give everything away.

“I know you don’t want to see me, and I know I’ve hurt you, it’s just that … fuck, Cassie, I never wanted it to end like this. Ever. But there’s only so much you can watch someone sacrifice before you realize they’re changing who they are for you, and not in a good way. You were perfect how you were. I’m hoping that when I’m gone, you can go back to that.”

I can’t respond. He doesn’t get it. Doesn’t understand that by trying to make me better, he’s only making me worse.

I drag in a breath and hate that it contains a sob.

“Cassie…”

Then, he’s wrapping his arms around me. I don’t mean to turn in to his chest, but I do, and then I’m not numb at all. I’m a heaving mess of pain and regret, and although I can’t really comprehend that this is the end for us, my heart is telling me it is.

“Cassie … God, please don’t cry. Please…”

He cups my face and dries my tears. His lips are on my forehead, and my cheek, and it makes me furious that despite everything, he still feels so good.

“Cassie…” He kisses me softly on the lips. Once. Twice. I grip his shirt. Press against the skin beneath. He kisses me a third time, and I don’t let him retreat. I kiss him violently. Give him some of my bitterness. He tightens his arms around me and doesn’t even pretend he doesn’t know what’s going on.

He does.

We both do.

As we get rougher and more desperate, we both know this is the only good-bye we’ll have. Words are no good to us. They never were. They’re useful at communicating everything that’s wrong with us, but this is the only way to express why we’re so right.

It’s not going to make him stay, and it’s not going to make it hurt less. It’s just going to give us both one last glimpse of what might have been if our story was a romance instead of a tragedy.

We tug and pull at each other as we stumble down the hallway and into my bedroom. Half his clothes are already off. The rest don’t last long. My robe hits the floor. He’s not gentle when he lays me down and buries his head between my thighs. There’s a desperation in him that I haven’t seen since the night before he broke up with me the first time, and I know it’s because he already has one foot out the door.

I close my eyes and grip the bed, trying to keep my emotions from ruining me. I’m successful for a while. He makes me come, and I’m fine. He kisses up my body, and I’m okay. He settles between my legs, and I’m wavering. He looks into my eyes as he enters me, and a giant fault line cracks down the middle of my resolve. He slows everything down so much, it seems like he doesn’t want it to end, and I’m cleaved in two. One part is vibrant and pulsing with pleasure. The other is withering and dying. The trusting part. The loving part.

He thinks I can go back to being the person I was after this? It’s impossible. The damage is done. He’s poisoned the woman I used to be. Long after he’s gone, I’ll still be toxic.

I don’t orgasm again. My body is too busy mourning his loss even while he’s still inside me.

When he comes, his face is buried in my neck, and even though I’ve banned myself from crying, it happens anyway. My tears are silent, but I know he can tell. Just like I can tell why he stays so still afterward. Why his arms are so tight around me, his breathing so uneven.

Why he wipes his face on my pillow before he climbs off.

He rolls onto his back. Throws his arm over his eyes. I don’t move. I can’t.

If I do, I’ll shatter like glass.

“Cassie—”

“Nothing you say is going to make you leaving me okay. Nothing. Ever.”

He takes in a shaky breath. “If there was another way—”

I turn my back on him and face the wall. It’s too hard having him here now. It just makes me want to beg him to stay, and that’s something my pride won’t allow.

“You need to leave.”

He doesn’t move.

“Now, Ethan.” I try to sound strong, but my voice cracks. It’s no wonder. Right now, all I am is a giant collection of broken pieces being held together by the sheer determination to not let him see me crumble.

The bed moves as he stands, and I just stare at the wall while he collects his clothes and gets dressed. I don’t know how I thought we’d end, but it certainly wasn’t like this.

I think in my most stupid, optimistic daydreams, we didn’t ever end.

What a joke.

I can feel him hovering in the doorway. Watching me. Hoping I’m all right.

I’m not. Right now, I can’t even comprehend a time when I will be.

“Cassie—”

“Get out.”

“Maybe one day … we can—”

“Get the fuck out!”

My throat tightens when I hear his sigh of resignation. It closes up completely when he whispers, “I’m going to miss you,” before he leaves.

When I hear the front door close, a sob rips out of me. It’s followed by another, and another, until I’m drowning and gasping for air.

Eventually I calm down enough to breathe, and head into the shower. I wash away every remnant of him. As I do, I vow that I’ll never let another man affect me this way.

Never again.

I also vow that for the rest of my life, I will never hate anyone as much as I hate Ethan Holt.

Present Day

New York City, New York

The Apartment of Cassandra Taylor

Ethan is due to leave tomorrow, and “restless” doesn’t even cover how I’m feeling tonight. “Climbing the walls” is closer but still not frantic enough. I feel unhinged.