“Nothing.”
I roll my eyes and cross the room, pulling her back against my chest and tucking my chin into her shoulder while she arranges the flowers. “You’ve always been a shit liar,” I say, pressing a kiss onto her neck. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
She sighs, and shrugs me off. Okay, so this is really bothering her more than she’s letting on. I wait to let her talk. I know there’s no rushing Amber. “You know who Jane Cavallaro is?”
I nod. “I’ve heard the name. Director. She’s been around for a few years.”
Amber walks into the living room and I follow her. She picks up her laptop and hands it to me. It’s open to a bunch of news stories. Well, they’re all the same news story, just different sources, and I would hardly call this news. It’s tabloid crap.
There are images of a couple together, and even though most of the images are blocked and blurred, it’s very clear that she’s giving him a blowjob. I skim the article headlines and gather enough to understand why Amber asked if I know who she is. “She’s a director in the tabloids.”
“No, Peter. She’s a director who’s fucking an actor on her show.”
Suddenly it all becomes clear, but it’s a little too late because Amber is still talking. She’s not angry, she’s scared. I can tell by the panic on her face.
“This can’t happen to me. I can’t let it. And it will because we’re already not being careful. I’ve worked so hard to get here and everything we’ve both worked for is so, so close. I can’t lose it, not when it’s all right here waiting for me to take it.” There are tears in her eyes while she’s looking at me, and I’m trying to understand what she means.
And then it hits me like a ton of cinderblocks falling on my head. She means me. She means that she can’t let me ruin anything for her. “Amber,” I say, “do you really think I’d do anything to jeopardize your career? That I’d ever take that chance? Believe me, I’ve already learned that lesson and paid the price for it.”
Amber is quiet for a minute. She takes the laptop from me, closes it, and sits down on the couch. “I don’t think you would, no. Not on purpose.”
What’s left in the air is what she’s really getting at. That I didn’t actually mean to ruin things for the first time, but I still did. So even if I’m not trying to harm her, my very presence could rip everything away from her a second time. I see that this is tearing her apart, and she can’t stop thinking about it.
It’s like a knife straight to the chest. “You can’t mean that.”
“I don’t know,” she says. “I’m afraid, Peter. I don’t have anything else.”
“You have me.”
She shakes her head. “Do I? We didn’t see each other for ten years, we sleep together for one night and that’s it? That’s forever? You know it’s not that simple and it never has been.”
The pain floods my system and I can’t handle it. The only way for me to deal is the anger that follows. It’s the only thing that keeps me from breaking. “After everything we’ve been through and finding each other again, can you imagine a life without me in it? If you can, Amber, tell me now. Because I can’t picture it. I’ve never been able to imagine a life without you in it, even when I was trying. So tell me now if you want me gone, because I can’t do this all over again. It hurts too damn much.”
She looks at me, tears brimming in her eyes, and says nothing. And nothing. And nothing. Finally, she looks down and away, tears spilling over into a sob. So that’s that.
I barely recognize the dark laugh that comes from deep in my chest. “I should have known that it was too good to be true,” I say. “I thought that if I just made you see that I wasn’t the person you thought I was, that it would work. That you would see that we’re made for each other and that would be the end of it. I guess I can’t fix everything by myself.”
She still doesn’t say anything, face buried in her hands. The instinct deep in my gut is to go to her. To fix it. To make it better so that she doesn’t cry. But I can’t do that. Not if she thinks all I’m going to do is turn around and tear her world apart.
I swallow against the emotion and anger building in my chest. “I’ll do us both a favor,” I say quietly. “I’ll stop getting in your way. Take care of yourself, Amber, and I hope that you get everything that you want.”
I turn and go, forcing myself not to look back. If I look back, I don’t know that I’ll be able to make myself go, and I have to. I have to make this a clean break or the wound will never heal. It’s already been open a decade too long.
I want to rage, break things, scream and throw a punch. But that leaves in an instant and I’m left with nothing but sadness. I shut the door to Amber’s apartment quietly behind me, pretending that I can’t hear her cry.
24
Amber
Present
He’s gone. I listen to the sound of the door closing and his footsteps walking away. He’ll come back. He always comes back. He came back after ten year. He won’t stop now, right?
Terror and panic seize at my chest.
I’m a goddamn fucking idiot.
Peter came back after ten years, and even though I destroyed him, he still said that he loved me and wanted to be with me. Even though I hated him for years, he didn’t care. He unequivocally said he wanted me and didn’t care about what I’d done. And he thought I’d forgiven him.
I have forgiven him.
And the minute something came up that’s scary, I lost my shit and tried to end things. I made it seem like I couldn’t trust him. Like he was going to ruin everything because he’s not smart enough to know when things are going to affect someone else. That he would make the same mistakes as a scared eighteen-year-old in love.
I would have walked out too. I probably would have done it faster and with a lot more yelling. I wouldn’t have blamed him in the least if he’d slammed my door so hard that it cracked the walls.
Looking over at the kitchen, I see the flowers that he gave me. Lilies. He remembered that I love lilies more than any other flower. Not only that, but got my favorite variety: A delicate pink that’s always reminded me of everything that’s perfect in the world.
It’s only been a couple of minutes; he’s probably still there. If I can stop him, maybe I can take it all back. Maybe I can tell him that I panicked and I love him and I’m sorry. Maybe it’s too late. But I won’t know unless I try.
I spring off the couch and toward the door. It feels like I can’t move fast enough. There’s a part of me that expects him to be behind the door, that he’ll somehow know that I wasn’t in my right mind and didn’t mean it. But he’s not there.
I don’t see him anywhere in the hallway either.
Shit. I start to run because I have to see him. I have to stop him, tell him that I love him. I just got him back and I didn’t tell him that I love him.
I love him.
I reach the stairwell, and he’s not there. I don’t hear footsteps either. I start going down, hoping that I can catch him at the garage, but I freeze in my tracks.