I can’t believe this. He would really rather we break up than go without sex?
Oh . . .
His silhouette blurs . . .
“Who even are you?” I whisper through tears.
“I’m the man who loves you.”
“Are you sure about that?”
His chest rises and falls as he struggles for air.
“I’m going.”
“Then”-he shrugs-“this is goodbye.”
My eyes search his. “Just like that?”
“I can’t drag this out. If you’re leaving me without trying now, you will always leave me without trying. I can never move out of the city, Hayden. It’s not who I am.”
Oh no.
This really is it . . . my heart constricts in my chest.
We stare at each other, so close but a million miles apart.
“I love you,” I whisper.
“Obviously not enough.” He walks off.
“Are you not coming home to see me off?” I call after him.
“No.” He turns back to face me, his cold eyes holding mine. “Goodbye, Hayden.” He disappears through the park, and I drop back to the seat, shocked to my core.
Checkmate.
I put the last of my things into my suitcase as it lies open on the bed, and I look around the bedroom.
Is this going to be the last time I see it?
Can’t be . . .
No. We’ll get through this. I know we will. We love each other too much not to be together. I glance at the time on my phone: 6:20 p. m.
Where is he?
I texted Christopher when I booked my flight and told him the time I’d be leaving. Don’t tell me he’s not coming home to see me off.
I know I could stay here for a while before I go, plan it better and leave next week or something, but with him working for the next three weeks straight, another day alone in that apartment is not something I can take. And besides, I’m angry at him for throwing the no-sex comment in my face. I know he just said it to try to shock me.
And it worked. He did . . . but not in a good way.
If anything, it’s made me more determined to look after my own happiness. I would never say something like that to him in a fight. It surprised me that he would stoop that low. Actually, if I’m honest, I’m not surprised. Christopher has a way of railroading me into doing what he wants me to do. This time he took the wrong route . . . I won’t be bullied with scare tactics. If he wants to sleep with someone else, he can go ahead.
I won’t be here to pick up the pieces.
“Grumps,” I hear him call from downstairs.
He’s home.
I nearly run downstairs to find him in the kitchen. He’s pouring two glasses of wine. My heart somersaults in my chest at the sight of him. In his perfectly fitted navy suit and crisp white shirt, he is the epitome of masculine perfection.
“Hi.” I smile hopefully.
“Hi.” He kisses my cheek and passes me a glass of wine. “We need to talk.”
He takes my hand and leads me out to the living room, and we sit on the couch. I swallow the nervous lump in my throat, and I know this is it, the moment in time when we discuss our future.
His eyes hold mine. “How long have you been unhappy here?”
“I’m not unhappy with you . . .”
“Answer the question, Hayden,” he replies flatly.
Be honest.
“Almost the whole time.”
He raises an eyebrow and sips his wine.
“To clarify, I’m not unhappy with you and our relationship. I love you, more than anything.”
“Not more than living in the country, though.”
He’s hurt.
“Chris, I just . . .” I hesitate, unsure what to say. I need all the facts in front of me. “Where do you see your permanent home being?” I ask. “Long term, like where do you see your children growing up?”
“Between London and New York.”
“In apartments?”
“Yes, my apartments are bigger than most houses, Hayden.”
“I know.” I nod. “It’s true; they are. And will you always work for Miles Media?”
“Of course I will; it’s my family’s business. I’ll never leave the company.”
“Oh.” I sip my wine, unsure what to even say to that.
His future is set in stone.
“In a perfect world, where do you see yourself living?” he asks.
My eyes search his, and I don’t want to say it out loud, because once I say it I can’t take it back.
“Please, just be honest, Haze,” he says softly.
“On the land.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Not necessarily my parents’ farm, but something similar. I eventually want my own animal husbandry business. It’s what I do, what I love, and I’m missing it so much.”
I see the hurt flash through his eyes.
“Would you . . . ever live on a farm?” I tentatively ask. “Can you see yourself living in the country?”
“No.”
“Would you ever try it?”
“No point. I already know that I would hate it.”
We stare at each other as a realization begins to set in.
“What do you hate about the city?” he asks.
“Everything.”
“Specifics.”
“The pollution, the people, the chaos, the paparazzi. It’s just so loud and on steroids. I don’t feel myself here.” I take his hand in mine. “And I desperately want to because I love you, but I already know that to be here, I have to give up who I am.”
His haunted eyes hold mine.
“And maybe I should do that . . .” I shrug. “I just . . .”
“No.” He cuts me off. “I don’t want you to do that.” He cups my face in his hand. “You’re perfect the way you are. Don’t change a thing.”
My eyes well, and a tear escapes and rolls down my face. He wipes it away with his thumb.
“What does this mean for us, Chris?” I whisper.
His nostrils flare. “It means I have to let you go.”
The lump in my throat hurts as I try to hold in my tears.
He kisses me softly. “I can’t ask you to be someone you’re not, Hayden. Because I know for certain that I can’t change who I am.”
Oh no.
“But I love you,” I whisper.
His eyes well with tears. “And I will always love you.”
He takes me into his arms and holds me tight, and the dam breaks, and I cry against his shoulder.
“But how . . . can two people be so in love and it not work out?” I sob.
“Because fairy tales aren’t real.”
I cry harder. “Don’t say that.”
“Deep down I always knew it.”
I pull out of his arms. “I don’t believe that.” I begin to get panicked. He really is saying goodbye. “No. I’ll stay. We’ll work it out. We can do this,” I splutter. “It will be okay.”
“No, Hayden. We won’t.” He stands. “Get your things. I’m taking you to the airport. You will not be unhappy for one more minute because of me. I made a promise to your father that I would look after you, and this is me doing that.”
“I don’t want to go,” I whisper.
“But you don’t want to stay.”
I sob out loud, and he walks from the room and two minutes later returns with my suitcase. “Come on.”
I screw up my face in tears. “But we love each other.”
“This is one of those cases where love isn’t enough.”
My heart constricts. Oh no.
“Get your things.” He wheels my suitcase to the door and walks out into the foyer. I walk around the apartment, sobbing, as I find my handbag and everything I want to take.
The worst part about it is, deep down I know that he’s right.
I have to leave, and he has to stay.
I take one last look around the beautiful apartment. It’s always felt so cold and unwelcoming to me . . . and now I know why.
It’s not my home.
I screw up my face and cry harder. I walk out the front door and get into the elevator.
Christopher is solemn and staring straight ahead. We ride down to the ground floor to the soft sounds of my sobs. He wheels my suitcase to the car and puts it into the trunk and gets in behind the wheel.
I cry all the way to the airport while he holds my hand in his lap, occasionally lifting it to kiss my fingertips.
We get to the airport, but instead of parking the car, he pulls into the drop-off parking bay. “You’re not coming in?” I whisper.
His eyes well with tears. “. . . I can’t.”
“Baby . . .” I sob.
“Don’t.” He gets out of the car in a rush, and I know he needs this over with. He pops the trunk and gets my suitcase out.
We stare at each other. An ocean of heartbreak and sadness swims between us.
“I’ll call you when I get there?” I whisper.
“Don’t.”
I frown.
“This needs to be a clean break.”
Oh.
He takes me into his arms, and we stand on the street hugging, both in tears.
“I’ll always love you,” he whispers.
“I love you.” I cling to him tight.
This can’t be the end.
As if unable to stand it, he pulls out of my arms in a rush and gets into the car and, without looking back, pulls out into the traffic.
I stand on the sidewalk and through blurred vision watch the sports car disappear down the road. “Goodbye, my love.”