July 2014
“What do you think about this one?”
Sinclair peered at the flower. “The black rose?” He shook his head. “Too dark.”
I brushed my fingers against the deep purple petals. “I kind of like them.”
“You’re supposed to be helping Renee make a bouquet for a wedding, not a funeral.”
We were in Renee’s flower shop. It was downtown, in the heart of Falls Church. It was a quaint little place with a green and white striped awning that had seen better days. The front door was painted black, with chips of paint flaking off around the doorknob. A bell was looped around the door handle. People seemed drawn to its exterior, and curious to step into a place that looked like it had been there for decades. When the weather was warm, plants and bouquets would be displayed right outside the store.
The shop was Renee’s pride and joy, and the fact that she trusted me enough to let me run it, even for two hours, was shocking. The first thirty minutes I fidgeted behind the cash register, completely clueless about what to do. Sinclair showed up an hour ago. He was just as clueless as me and we made a useless pair.
The weather was bleak. Rain clouds came in and thunder rumbled in the distance; only one customer had walked in.
“This could be for a wedding.” I gathered the long-stemmed roses and held them out to Sinclair. “Here’s your bouquet. I wish you well in your future failed marriage.”
Sinclair lifted a brow. “I don’t know how she does this shit. I’m getting high off all these flowers.”
“She has a talent, that’s for sure.”
“Apparently you do too if she lets you help her create her bouquet masterpieces.”
I shrugged and went back to trimming the stems of some black roses. Sinclair was still dressed in black pants and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The logo of his construction company was on the left side of his shirt. He’d been here for an hour and showed no signs of leaving soon. It was fine by me. I loved when he was around, which lately was a lot.
We started talking on the phone just days after Wes and I moved into our house. They were quick conversations that became steadily longer. Soon we started to email each other.
He never came to my house. Instead I would spend time with him at Renee’s shop. It was our meeting place and I cherished every second; without him something malignant lived in me, slowly killing me. Around him, though, I came alive. I could breathe.
I could be.
It was hard to believe that I had met Sinclair only nine months ago. It felt like it had been longer. We talked to each other with such ease. He never looked uninterested in what I had to say. It felt amazing to know someone was listening to me.
During all this, we never did anything inappropriate. We knew there was an invisible line between the two of us that neither should cross. But I was inching closer and closer to that line and it was getting harder and harder not to cross it.
“Why are you all dressed up?” I asked him.
“I had a meeting with a potential client. A huge house out on Bellamy Road.”
“I could be getting a new neighbor?”
He grinned and my stomach twisted. “You could, but nothing’s set in stone.”
I bit down on my lip to hide my smile. I loved that Sinclair was confiding in me. When I asked him how his day was going, he didn’t shrug his shoulders and slam his office door. He didn’t narrow his eyes and ask what my angle was. He told me the truth. Someday, in the near future, I hoped I could do the same with him.
Gathering the stems, I tossed them in the trash. “How did you live with her growing up?” I asked over my shoulder.
“Oh, it was a nightmare.”
“Really?”
Sinclair nodded and grinned devilishly. Already I could see the mischievous brother he was to Renee. “Her room was always spotless. Every single thing had a place. Everything. If anything was ever moved from its designated area the world was over.”
“And your room?”
“Fucking disaster. It drove her crazy. When she got in trouble, she never got grounded or had things taken away. No, our mom would make her hang out in my room.”
Resting my elbows on the worktable, I smiled and leaned in closer. Both Renee and Sinclair had this…spark about them. Instinctively, people were drawn toward them, anxious to hear the next words that slipped from their lips.
“Poor Renee,” I commented.
“Not poor Renee,” Sinclair quickly replied. “More like poor world. Or poor Sinclair!”
I grabbed the broom leaning against the wall and swept the floor for the millionth time; honestly, this place was immaculate. “It’s probably a good thing that we met as adults then,” I said.
“Why?”
“She sounds like she’s always had her life put together. Whereas mine has been…scattered.”
“Really?”
I nodded. “I was the youngest. I was carefree and wild. If things got done, they did. If something was wrong, then just figure out a way to fix it. I switched my major so many times in college I lost count. I wanted to dip my hands into everything, ignoring the fact that it was impossible. It drove my mother crazy how relaxed I was. It still does.”
“You sound more like a free-love hippie than the ‘youngest child.’ ”
I gave him a look over my shoulder and continued cleaning up. “All I’m saying is that she would’ve taken one look at wild Victoria and run in the other direction.”
“Doubtful. You probably looked beautiful then, just as you do now.” He said the words so quietly that at first they didn’t register. Kind of like a whisper—it took a second to process.
My head lifted and I found Sinclair looking me straight in the eye. I didn’t see regret or embarrassment. He meant every single word. My stomach twisted tightly from the intensity in his gaze.
We were quickly veering past the normal bounds of conversation into a place we had no business being in.
It was then that I realized Sinclair had listened to every word I said. Better yet, he seemed interested. My husband didn’t. Even from the beginning, conversations always circled around Wes. He would listen to me talk but it always came back to him in the end. And maybe I’d known that all along. Maybe I’d told myself I was okay with that.
But I had to admit, it felt amazing to be heard.
Sinclair cleared his throat. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” I replied as I set the scissors down.
“Did you work before you got married?”
I paused, my hands hovering over the vase. “I was a nurse.”
“But not now,” he stated flatly.
I nodded. “Wes and I wanted to start a family.”
Wes and I? What a joke. The more time that passed, the more I realized that Wes could spend the rest of his life childless and be perfectly fine.
“But not anymore?” Sinclair asked.
“Not anymore.”
Sinclair leaned against the table, watching me carefully, as if I were a puzzle piece he couldn’t seem to click into place. “Do you miss being a nurse?”
“I do.” My voice was quiet even to my own ears. This should have been a moment where I quickly changed the subject, but my lips parted. “I worked mostly in the emergency room. It was crazy most of the time. Sometimes I would be so exhausted at the end of the day I would lay my head on the pillow and pass out. But there was always something new each day. It was never dull.”
“You really loved it.”
I smiled very faintly. “I still do.”
“Then go back.”
I lowered the scissors and looked at Sinclair beneath my lashes. “I wish it was that simple.”
“Of course it’s that simple.”
“No, it’s not. It’s—” Abruptly I stopped talking. Frustration was starting to creep into my words. It was impossible to explain the situation to him. He wouldn’t understand. No one would understand.
“I’m not trying to make you angry,” Sinclair said after a beat of silence.
I slumped over the table and rubbed my temples. I wished I could tell him the truth. “I know you’re not.”
He stood up and walked around the table. His shoulder brushed against mine. Heat. All heat. It was enough to make me feel like I was going up in flames. Or maybe that was my body reacting to him. Not even with Wes did I respond that way. I wanted to shift my arm away but I couldn’t. It was amazing to have all these feelings brewing inside me.
“I would say I’m trying not to pry into your life, but that’s not true.”
Instead of answering, I kept my head down, staring at the oak table.
“I’ve watched how he is with you….It isn’t right.”
Sinclair rested his elbows on the table and looked into my eyes and leaned in so close, our faces were mere inches apart. The guise of friendship slipped from his eyes, only to be replaced with blatant desire. Goosebumps broke out across my skin.
“You deserve better,” he said gruffly.
I nodded, the only thing I could do. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak.
What was this between us?
I’ve loved.
I’ve liked.
I’ve lusted.
But none of those feelings came close to right now.
I knew that Sinclair felt this…this connection between us too. His brows slammed together as his gaze made a game of going between my lips and eyes. On his tan neck, I could see the fluttering of his pulse.
It was beating just as hard as mine.
Sinclair moved closer. And I did the craziest thing: I leaned in too. But I didn’t feel like I had a choice. I couldn’t remember the last time a man actually looked at me and didn’t see me as his to own. I wanted to be honest with Sinclair and tell him just that. My mouth opened.
“Sinclair, I—”
Right then the shop bells sounded as the door opened. I jumped away from the table like it was on fire.
“Okay, I’m back,” Renee said, out of breath. She carried two large brown bags. Her steps were quick as she made a beeline to where Sinclair and I now stood with a healthy distance between us. “That took much longer than I anticipated.”
I crossed my arms and then dropped my hands to my sides. I crossed my arms again. I couldn’t stop fidgeting. I couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Sinclair. He had stood up. His hands were on his narrow hips. He stared at me, his gaze unflinching.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said to Renee just a little too loudly. “Everything was fine.”
She dropped the bags onto the table and glanced at me curiously. Her eyes flitted between Sinclair and me. “Was it too crazy here?”
“One customer.”
Renee whistled. “Sounds like it was a packed house,” she replied dryly.
I could feel Sinclair’s eyes on me. But Renee was already on to me. There was no way I was looking in his direction. I pointed to the bags. “What did you get?”
“Oh!” Renee clapped her hands excitedly and reached into the bags. “After my appointment, I went to the farmers’ market. I found this beautiful flower that I know you’ll just love….”
She continued to talk. Her mouth moved up and down but I couldn’t latch on to a single word. I looked over her head, to where Sinclair stood. With my eyes I pleaded for him to not push what almost happened.
“…I think I’m going to try and make it a weekly trip,” Renee said. She flipped through her calendar, and stopped short. Her face turned pale. Her elbows landed on either side of the calendar as she stared down at it. “Shit, shit, shit, shit.” Renee dragged her hands through her hair.
I tried to peer at the schedule but her arms covered it. “What’s wrong?”
“I forgot to drop off flowers.”
“For?” Sinclair asked.
“A client. I completely forgot. Jeff and I had a date night all planned out for tonight.”
“I’ll do it,” I blurted out.
Renee looked visibly shocked. “What?”
The words came out before I could think them over, but now that they had settled, I realized it might be fun. And if not fun, at least interesting. “Yeah,” I said as I walked around the register. “I’ll do it. No problem.”
“I’ll go with her.”
My eyes widened in shock. I whipped my head around and stared at Sinclair. He shrugged as though it were nothing, and never once met my gaze.
“You’re going to deliver flowers,” Renee stated skeptically.
“Yeah,” he replied.
“You’re going to deliver flowers.”
“Yeah.”
“For me.”
“Yes!”
“Not once in all our entire childhood, teenage, or adult years have you ever wanted to help me out.”
“Well, I’m helping you out now.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Renee said dubiously. They said nothing but gave each other that “sibling stare” of silent communication.
A moment went by and I cleared my throat. Renee pulled out her keys and tossed them to Sinclair. “Now, don’t go too fast. And the brakes are sensitive.”
“Renee, relax. Believe it or not, I have driven a car before.”
Renee snorted dismissively at her brother. She glanced at me, thousands of questions in her eyes. Sinclair was going to deliver the flowers. There was no need for me to go. Yet I found myself creeping closer and closer to the door.
“I’ll see you later,” I called over my shoulder as I rushed toward the door. Within seconds he had caught up with me and held the door open. When we were both outside, I stared straight ahead. “I think I’ll drive there in my own car.”
“Are you sure?”
When I glanced up at Sinclair I saw that all the intensity brewing in the shop had followed us outside. The two of us going anywhere together was a really bad idea.
Delivering flowers isn’t as cut and dried as you’d think. The fact that we arrived five minutes before the party should have worked in our favor, but people were already sitting at the tables. Kids ran zigzagging between tables, trying to beat their brothers, sisters, or cousins with balloons plucked from the tables. The birthday woman—who we found out pretty quickly was called Barbara—was picky. She had Sinclair move the flower arrangements from one table to the next. Once that was settled, she’d have him turn it to the right, no, to the left. Can you move it forward a bit? Yes, right there is perfect.
I leaned against the wall, watching more and more people filter in. The tables were covered in red, disposable tablecloths, with black foldout chairs tucked beneath them. Every time someone moved a chair around, the legs would scrape against the floor, creating a noise that had me cringing.
This looked less like a birthday party and more like a homecoming dance.
But it was nice to watch the members of this woman’s family come in. They were are all hushed words and talk about the weather, yet when they saw Barbara, they smiled and laughed as if no time had passed since they’d last seen one another. I tried to remember the last time that Wes and I had visited extended family. Probably during our wedding.
Unease trailed down my spine as I realized that other than my mother, I had made no effort to keep in contact with anyone on my side of the family. I hardly saw my brother or his family. A few cousins were scattered around the country.
Was that my fault or Wes’s? I didn’t want to dig any further into our relationship’s past. My gut told me that if I did, I’d see things clearly. I’d see things for what they were.
Sinclair walked over to me and I shoved away all dark thoughts of Wes. “That took longer than I thought.”
He dusted off his hands and leaned against the wall. His body was mere inches away from me. He looked so at ease, as if we always stood this close. As if we didn’t have my husband, my humiliations and fears and shame between us.
“I have a newfound respect for my sister now,” he said.
“As do I.” I pushed away from the wall. “All set?”
Sinclair nodded and pulled out his keys.
I grabbed my purse and we walked toward the front doors, Sinclair behind me. “No, no, no. Where are you two going?”
Sinclair and I turned around at the same time. Barbara had a margarita in one hand, holding it above her head as she moved in and out of the crowd. The dictator was gone, replaced with a brand-new, happier person. “You two should stay!” When we said nothing she grabbed my hand and swung it back and forth. “Stay and have fun.”
Sinclair and I exchanged glances.
“You want to?” I asked.
Sinclair looked at me with shock. True, spending a Saturday night at a party for a virtual stranger wasn’t at the top of the list but it beat going home to a cold monstrosity, which instead of being filled with good memories was holding all the harsh words Wes and I threw at each other.
Maybe my thoughts showed, because Sinclair gave me a small nod and smiled at Barbara. “We’d love to.”
“Excellent, excellent!” And then she was gone, shouting at someone clear across the room.
Sinclair dipped his head and whispered in my ear. “Do you really want to stay here or were you just being nice?”
I swallowed hard and kept my eyes glued on the crowd. “It doesn’t seem so bad.” I looked at him from the corner of my eye and found him staring at me. “Unless you already have plans tonight.”
He held my gaze and tried to fight the pull between us. “I have no plans. Did you?”
Wes had said he was having another night at the office. Lately, that was more of his home than the one he shared with me. I looked away.
“Nope. No plans.”
There was no time to be bored or think about the problems swirling around in my life. As it turned out, Barbara’s family was outgoing. More friends of the family showed up and from our table in the corner we watched everyone. Drinks and laughter were all around. It was impossible to be in an environment like that and not have it rub off on you.
I drained my fourth cup of fruit punch, wishing that it was some form of alcohol instead. “Is it possible to get drunk off fruit punch?” I mused.
“If by drunk you mean sugar high, then yes, it’s possible.”
I glanced at Sinclair and smiled. “This night isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
Sinclair scanned the people around us. “It’d probably be better if we stopped hiding in the corner.”
“That’s the difference between you and me: I’m okay sitting in the corner, whereas you love to talk to everyone.” I nudged him in the arm. “It’s killing you sitting here next to me, isn’t it?”
All humor vanished from Sinclair’s eyes. His stare was so acute, I had to fight the urge to look away. “It’s not killing me at all,” he said gruffly. “I like being with you.”
Greedily, my heart scooped up his words when it had no right to. But Sinclair did that. He made me want things that I had no business reaching for.
I cleared my throat and looked back at all the laughing people together.
Sinclair stood, his chair screeching loudly. He loomed above me and held out his hand. “You wanna?” He nudged his head toward the people dancing.
I like to have fun in different ways but dancing in front of people was not one of them. I shook my head. “I’m good right here.”
“Something tells me you’ll be good wherever you are, but come on, it’ll be fun.”
Sinclair said it with a small smile. He didn’t know how his words struck me straight in the heart.
“Come on,” he urged. “Just let go, a little.”
I nodded and released my tension and grabbed his hand.
The song was something from the eighties, one I vaguely remembered my mother listening to when I was little. The people around us, they didn’t care. They were locked in their own time, reliving happy days. Their energy was infectious, making it impossible for me not to smile.
Yet I still hesitated, and moved awkwardly from side to side.
Sinclair tilted his head. “You didn’t strike me as someone too shy to dance.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to dance. It’s the fact that we’re surrounded by strangers.”
At that he lifted a brow.
“And you know…” I flung a hand in the air. “It’s awkward.”
“Not really. The fact that these people are strangers should be the one incentive to dance.”
I smiled; he had a point.
“You look like an idiot? Doesn’t matter. You’ll probably never see these people again.”
“Except for you,” I pointed out.
“Except for me,” he agreed, a devilish look in his eyes. Sinclair reached out and grabbed my hands, swallowing them whole with his own. “And you better believe I’ll tease you mercilessly.”
Our hands were the only parts of our body touching, yet there was this electric charge between us. He kept them in the air and wildly moved them left and right until I had no choice but to follow his lead.
Then he spun me around. My skirt twirled and I smiled so wide. I couldn’t remember the last time I had had so much fun.
Two, then three songs went by. My feet started to ache. Yet we continued dancing, having fun in our own little world.
When we finished, my cheeks were red.
“Was that so bad?” Sinclair asked, his eyes gleaming with energy as we walked back to the table.
“It was fun,” I replied, but the truth was more than that: Dancing with Sinclair was the most alive I’d felt in months. Maybe years.
My smile faded as I realized that I needed to find things bad about Sinclair, to keep my distance. Not more and more redeemable qualities that imperceptibly pulled me closer to him.
But maybe it was always going to be this way.
Maybe this attraction would always be inexorable.
“You really can dance. I knew you were holding out on me.”
Moments later an older woman asked Sinclair to dance. I let her take my place and sat down at the empty table, just watching everything around me. Such happy, joyful people—and all I could think about was whether Wes and I would ever be like them.
I pulled out my phone. It was 10:43. My eyes widened, though not because of the time. It was the fifty missed calls that had me on edge. Every single one was from Wes.
“You okay over there?”
I gave my phone one last look and dropped it back into my purse. The smile I gave Sinclair was one of my weakest. “I’m great.”
He crossed his arms and I knew he could see right through my words.
Abruptly I stood. “You ready to go? It’s getting late.”
“Sure. Let’s go.”
Side by side we walked out of the building. My mind was racing a mile a minute, trying to think of what I would say when I got home to Wes. Most times I could never predict when he would snap, but I felt it this time. I’d been careless. I had let go of my worries and now I had to deal with him.
“It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” Sinclair said.
“I actually had fun too.”
“I know; it was the most I’ve ever seen you smile.”
“I smile all the time.”
“No, I mean really smile. A true smile.”
My grip on the strap of my purse tightened. If I looked at Sinclair right then, I knew I’d never want to look away, so I stared straight ahead. I could feel his gaze on me.
“Where are you parked?” I asked him.
Sinclair gave me a frustrated look and pointed toward the opposite side of the parking lot, toward the back entrance. “Over there.”
I nudged my head to the opposite side. “I’m over here. So I’ll see you later. This was fun.” My words were rushed and disjointed. I turned around before I made a bigger fool of myself.
“Victoria, wait,” Sinclair said, and grabbed my arm.
I turned around willingly and stared into his eyes. “What are you running away from?” he asked.
You, I wanted to say. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. The truth was the last thing that needed to be said. I took a step back. “I’m running away from nothing,” I said as I started to rifle through my purse for my keys. “It’s late and I have to get home.”
“You’re lying.”
I frantically moved my wallet out of the way. Where in the hell were my keys? I was a disaster. My brain was on the fritz, jumping from one thought to the next. And it was all Sinclair’s fault.
“Victoria, come on. Talk to me.” Sinclair took a step closer. I looked over my shoulder, scanning the area for anyone who might be watching us. When I turned back around I bumped straight into Sinclair’s chest. The very tips of my breasts brushed against him. I sucked in a sharp breath.
“Victoria,” he said gruffly. My name rolled off his tongue perfectly, sending chills up and down my spine.
A surge of longing ran through me. For a brief second I let my forehead rest against the solid wall of his chest. His body enveloped mine and if anyone had walked by, they could never have seen me. So I tilted my head back and met his gaze. His face was inches from mine. He was closer than he’d ever been and yet I wanted him even closer.
It all happened so slowly. There was plenty of time for me to pull away. Yet I stood there, motionless as his lips touched mine.
There are hundreds of ways to be kissed, but this?
This transcended them all.
From his soft lips, to the angle of his head as he held my face between both hands—it was perfection.
Anyone could come outside and catch us, but that didn’t matter to me. Sinclair Montgomery’s lips were on mine.
His tongue slipped into my mouth and a small gasp escaped me. I leaned into him until there was no more space between us. His strong arms wrapped around me.
I had to get home. My husband was waiting. But that didn’t matter to me; Sinclair Montgomery was touching me.
Stop right now, my mind screamed. You have to stop.
But I really couldn’t; this kiss was bigger than me. This kiss was the kind that had the power to intricately weave my and Sinclair’s lives together.
My hands reached out and curled around the hem of his shirt. I wanted this to keep going, to never end. To never stop feeling this way. My tongue moved against his and his hands dropped away from my face and firmly gripped my hips. A groan rose from the back of his throat.
My palms were splayed against his stomach, my fingers stretched apart to feel every cut of muscle hidden beneath his shirt.
It could’ve gone further. In fact, a few minutes later and I think it would have, but laughter sounded in the distance. It wasn’t loud, but it was just enough to jerk the two of us back to reality. We broke apart at the same time.
My lips tingled. I had to stop myself from brushing my fingertips across them. I wanted that kiss back. I wanted to hold on to it and never let it go. Sinclair took a step back, as if he could read my thoughts. I held up a hand. He stopped in his tracks. His hands hung heavily at his sides. My heart whispered that it was all wrong and those hands should be wrapped around me once again.
“Don’t say sorry. Don’t say that can never happen again,” Sinclair said, his voice a ragged whisper.
He ate up the distance between us until it was mere inches.
“I don’t have a choice,” I replied. “I’m married.”
“You’re married…but does that mean you’re in love?”
Once upon a time, I could’ve answered that question within seconds. Love seemed to be the only thing keeping Wes and me together. Love used to be what we lived for. But now? Now it was gone and I didn’t know how to get it back.
I didn’t answer Sinclair. He looked into my eyes for a long moment and then stepped away. He gave me a brief nod. “Good night, Victoria.” The look in his eyes showed that this conversation was far from over.
“Good night, Sinclair.”
I watched him get into his car and drive away. I watched the taillights until they completely disappeared.
When I turned around, I walked directly into Wes.
I gasped and placed my hand over my heart and took a deep breath. He had that dead look in his eyes and it sent fear rushing down my spine. “What were you doing?” His voice was calm and so deceptively soft that I knew he saw the kiss.
“Wes—”
“What were you doing?” He advanced slowly.
I took a step back and quickly looked around. The parking lot was filled with cars but everyone was inside. If I screamed loud enough, though, they might hear me. Might.
“I tried calling you tonight and you never fucking answered me.”
My throat constricted. Suddenly it was getting harder to breathe. “I was busy.”
“Busy with Sinclair? Busy fucking around behind my back?”
My mouth opened but Wes beat me to the chase. “I need to know where you are!” he shouted. “At all times!” He took a step back from me, laced his fingers behind his head, and laughed up at the black sky. “I called and called and you didn’t answer.”
He wasn’t making sense and because of that, I was too afraid to speak. Rationally, I knew I wasn’t dealing with a sane person. Whether I comforted him or angered him didn’t matter; he would snap regardless. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
“Okay, okay,” I said soothingly, as if I were talking to a child. I needed to calm him down. To try to defuse the situation and then make a run for it. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls, Wes.”
“Don’t say sorry, Victoria! You’re my wife. Mine! I shouldn’t have to question what my wife is doing each fucking night!” he screamed.
“Wes—”
“Stop talking!”
Suddenly he was in my face, the anger pouring off him in sheets. I could see that the alpha quality I had found so alluring at the beginning, the one that used to pull me in, had two sides, and now the ugly side was rearing its head. There was nothing attractive about it. It was scary and dangerous and I couldn’t get away fast enough. I took a step forward but Wes blocked me.
“First you talk about divorce. Second you mention going back to work. And now you’re going behind my back, turning into a fucking whore. What else are you doing, Victoria?”
His fist slammed into my stomach so fast I had no time to protect myself. I wheezed, my hands instinctively moving to my stomach. Wes shoved me back until I hit the car and his fist connected with my ribs this time.
When I was sixteen and first started driving, my brother teasingly said that if I needed protection, to put the length of my keys on the key chain between my fingers and use it as a weapon. I laughed off his comment then, but now it wasn’t a bad thought. My eyes opened. I blinked through the blinding pain, only to see my keys on the ground, daring me to pick them up.
“Victoria?” Wes grabbed my chin and jerked my head up until I was forced to look him in the eye. “If you leave me, I’ll go after every single person you love.” With his other hand he brushed away my tears. “Renee. Your mother. Even Sinclair. All of them gone.”
“Why are you doing this?”
He frowned at me in confusion, as if I should already know the answer. “Because if you leave my world, what else do I have?”
Without another word, he walked away.
A hideous image comes to mind where Wes is eating my heart. He’s ripping it to pieces and I can feel every single tear as if it’s still attached to me.
I know it’s horrifying. But the worst thing of all is that it’s not too far from the truth. Wes and I were eating at each other instead of building each other up.
All we knew was distraction.
If we continued down this path one of us would be dead.
I don’t remember grabbing my keys. I don’t remember getting into my car.
I just remember ending up slumped over my steering wheel, crying over the memories of Wes and me during the happier times.
My heart saw all of this and whispered to me: But Sinclair Montgomery kissed you. Sinclair Montgomery touched you….