Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 126154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 631(@200wpm)___ 505(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 631(@200wpm)___ 505(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
“You were close to me,” he hisses. “I bought you peaches and fucking chocolate. I left you fucking notes. A bottle of wine.” He sighs. “I chased you down the fucking street, Lissa. Why the fuck didn’t you stop for me? Why the fuck did you choose to lie instead?”
I prop myself up on an elbow and my heart is racing. “I was your cleaner. I was a nobody. I am a nobody, and you’re… everything.”
“I chased you down the fucking street, Melissa. Jesus Christ.” He’s angry again. His body is so rigid. I want to touch him but I don’t dare.
“I was already in with Claude. I’d already filmed that slutty video. If I’d gone back when you called, if I’d introduced myself before you’d seen it and then you did…”
“I wouldn’t have fucking seen it!” he hisses. “I’d already quit that shit. I was going cold fucking turkey, going fucking insane over a cleaner I’d never fucking met.”
I didn’t know.
How it fucking hurts.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I thought if I could just… be someone… if I could love what you love… maybe you’d love me like I love you.”
“So you lied? Snooped on me, and dug into all my fucking things, and then lied to me? Played me like a fucking fool?”
“I’m not even nineteen. I was a cleaner taking care of her younger brother. I didn’t think you’d even look at me.”
“But I did!” he snaps. “I fucking did!” He rolls away from me and it pains so much to face his back. “This is so fucked up,” he says. “I believed all of it, every fucking thing you said, and it was all just a fucking act.”
“Was,” I tell him. “But it isn’t now. I am that person. I’m everything I pretended to be, I swear.”
He laughs a horrible laugh. “Stop it.”
“I love the things that you love. I love the gemstones and I love Kings and Castles. I loved that gig so much it made me cry, and it was all real.”
“Please stop,” he says.
“And I love Brutus. I love you.”
“You don’t even fucking know me,” he snaps. “And I sure as hell don’t know you.”
“That’s not true,” I whisper. “It was real. Everything I felt was real.” I don’t want to cry again but I can’t stop. “And everything you felt was real, too. I felt it. I felt you. I still do.”
“Just fucking stop,” he snaps, but I can’t.
“I was going to tell you last weekend, right after Dean. But you were so angry when you found out I knew him. I was scared that if I said anything you’d never speak to me again.”
“Good job you averted that fucking crisis.” His sarcasm cuts.
“I fucked up,” I say. “I just wanted to say sorry, that’s why I came here.”
“And you said it.”
I want to beg for forgiveness. I want to fall at his feet and beg him to give me another chance.
But I don’t.
I don’t deserve another chance.
“I’m sorry about your parents,” he says. “I’m sorry you had to give up on college. I’ll make sure you get the money from Claude. I’ll take your bank details and pay it over myself. It can be a new start. Put yourself back through college.” He rolls to face me, but he feels so far away.
“And what about you?”
“I’m leaving,” he says and my heart shatters. “I meant what I said, I’m done with bailing rich cunts out every day of my life. I’m done with my father and his shitty fucking business.”
I wipe the tears from my eyes. “I wish I could come with you.”
“Yeah, well, so do I,” he says, and gets up from the bed. “Maybe in a parallel universe. Maybe somewhere there’s a Melissa who turned around on the street that day.”
“I hope so,” I cry. “I hope that other Melissa is so much happier than I am right now.”
I crawl from the bed and reach for my handbag. I dig inside for his fire opal and offer it over to him. “You should have this back,” I say.
“You don’t want it?”
I have to catch a sob. “I love it,” I say. “But I lied to get it. It doesn’t belong to me.”
“Keep it,” he says.
I feel so defeated when I slip it back into my bag.
He puts his belt back on and fastens himself up. He smooths down his tie in the mirror.
We’re done here, and I wish I’d never started breathing again.
He drops to his knees to gather up the money from the floor. He taps it into a pile on the dresser and leaves it there.
He fastens up his watch and his cufflinks.
“I’ll call you a cab,” he says. “Where do you need to go?”
My stomach is nothing but pain as I give him my address. He calls me a cab and tells me it’ll be ten minutes, and then he lights up another cigarette.