“Oh God.” I quivered, and he was even closer.
The sweater was no longer under my fingers, and instead, I felt the rough, sharp whiskers of his beard and the way they were dragging across my face, my skin stinging …
In a way it hadn’t in a long time.
And just as that thought really settled, Oliver sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, his teeth lightly gnawing over it, gradually letting it go.
My eyes shot open.
The ice blue stared back.
And with it … came a shock.
One that quaked through my entire body.
If I knew he wouldn’t catch me, I would have started running, but the crowd was too thick, and Oliver was much faster than me.
My hand went to my chest, pushing against it to find air. “I have to go.”
He must have sensed my urgency because he gripped my hand and weaved us through the maze of pedestrians who were all partying at this hour. It was too loud to speak, too congested to walk side by side, so Oliver continued in front, and I squeezed his hand from behind.
And when I felt him stop, I looked up and saw we were several feet from the entrance of my hotel.
I released his hand and took several steps away, my heart beating so fast that I was sure it was going to explode. “Oliver …”
He tried to come closer, and my palm went in the air to stop him.
“I can’t …” I breathed, but there was no air. “I’m married, Oliver. This is fucked. I can’t do it. I love my husband, and I can’t do this to him … to us.”
Pain shot through his eyes, and he went to reach forward again, but I stepped back.
“Chloe, I’m sorry.”
I was putting more space between us, but as I stared at him, my chest was seizing, my throat closing. “We can’t do this,” I repeated again. “Not ever again. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking.”
“Chloe …” He was breathing fast, his eyes full of emotion. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just … fuck.” He pulled at the top of his hair, teeth stabbing his lip. “I got caught up in the moment, and it’s just so fucking hard to see you and remember that you’re not mine anymore.”
If there was any breath left, it was gone.
What was left was a feeling that was far bigger than me.
When he said my name, I didn’t look over my shoulder. I just pushed my feet across the ground as fast as I could and hurried through the lobby to my room. Once I got inside, I stripped off my clothes, and I was naked by the time I got in the bathroom, turning on the shower as hot as it would go.
As I waited for the water to warm, I gripped the sink with both hands, letting it bear my weight, digging inside my body to find a calm.
To find a way to stop the tightening.
To make this all feel normal again.
To return to before.
But before was gone.
Everything I had known … was gone.
When I went to swallow, I couldn’t.
I tried to scream and had no voice.
I attempted to inhale and wasn’t able to do that either.
Panicked, I looked up at the mirror, and I caught sight of the girl staring back at me.
The one with wild hair from the wind of Amsterdam and red eyes from the tears that were dripping from them.
And lips that, when licked, still had the taste of Oliver.
I didn’t recognize her.
I didn’t recognize me.
I …
What the fuck did I just do?
Forty-Three
London: We need to talk.
Me: I’m not ready for that yet.
London: I’m here when you are.
London: You’re leaving in four days, Chloe. I think we should have a conversation before you go.
Me: I … just can’t.
London: I stopped by your office, and they said you already left for the night. I wanted to see you before you flew back tomorrow.
Me: I went for a walk. I needed air.
London: Did you find it?
Me: Nope.
London: What time is your flight?
I stared at Oliver’s last text, my eyes stinging, fingers hovering above the letters to type a reply.
Once I left in the morning, I wouldn’t be back for two weeks, and there were so many things I should say to him before I left.
But as I was tucked under the covers of my bed, looking out the window at the evening lights of Amsterdam, the thought of saying any of those things made me want to hide.
So did the thought of going home.
I turned my phone to silent and set it on the nightstand, and I covered my head with the blanket.
Me: I’m coming over at 10. Don’t ask. I just need my best friend.
Molly: You know I’m always here for you, babe.
“Girl, what is going on?” Molly said after she opened her door and took a look at me. “Come here, honey.”
She threw her arms out, and I fell into her embrace, squeezing her with every bit of strength I had left.
Strength that hadn’t come from the two sleepless nights I spent in Boston and every minute since I’d been back with Lance.
Except these few seconds.
And I could finally … lose it.
Oh God.
“I took out stuff for mimosas,” she said, her palm rubbing circles between my shoulder blades, “but I think it’s a vodka kind of morning.” Her hand stilled. “Let’s get you inside so I can funnel it in you.”
She unraveled her body and clasped my hand in hers, bringing me over to the couch in the living room.
I pulled the stuffed unicorn beside me into my arms and held it against my chest as she went into the kitchen. “Where’s May?”
She set two glasses on the counter, filled them with ice, and stopped pouring the vodka when she hit the halfway mark. As she carried the tumblers into the living room, she said, “She’s at the park with my sitter, and they have plenty of cash to keep them busy for hours.”
I held the drink in my palm, staring at the clear liquid, the ice bobbing over the top.
“Drink.”
I slowly looked up at the sound of my best friend’s voice, my lips trembling as our eyes connected, and I said, “Molly, I really fucked up.”
She was sitting next to me, one hand on my arm, the other on my back again. “Start from the beginning, babe.”
I nodded, but the emotion was already there, rippling in my throat. With it came a tightness that spread through my chest and traveled all the way to my stomach. And that was when the rawness started to eat away at me. “I would never do anything to purposefully hurt him …”
She was searching my eyes, hunting for an answer, and I saw the moment it hit her. “Drink.”
I felt the coolness of the glass between my lips as I swallowed.
“Now, tell me what happened.”
I set the glass on my thigh, waiting for the acid to settle in my throat. “Oliver’s old roommate Jake was in town, visiting from London, and he asked me to come out. God, it felt just like old times.” The tears were brimming over my lids, falling straight to my chin. But they were so thick that I couldn’t see my best friend’s face. One I’d cried in front of for years, but this occasion felt so different. “Molly,” I gasped when something seized my throat.