Connor huffed as he rubbed his mouth and stared at the coffee table. “No, you’re not reaching.”
“Well, there you go.” She pushed away from the couch and crossed the room, pausing to stand across from him and folding her arms over her chest. “We were never on the same page. You never loved me. At least, you sure as hell didn’t love me the way I loved you. When life got hard, I became a nuisance you had to get rid of so you could focus on what really mattered to you.”
He clasped his hands together so hard his knuckles were white.You weren’t a nuisance. I wasn’t good for you. I realized I could never give you the things I promised you. I realized I was weak in the face of things that even an average person could handle. I’m the one who was supposed to be strong for everyone, and I couldn’t even be strong for myself. It was easier to hurt you enough that you would disappear than try to explain all of that.
And apparently, it was still easier to hurt her than explain all of that, and since he was weak as fuck, he took the easy way out again. Never mind what happened to her around that same time. Never mind the delicious intimacy they’d just shared that proved nothing and nobody would ever be as perfect for him. Never mind. Never mind any of it at all.
“I did love you, Liza.”I still do. I never stopped.“Things just got complicated.”
“Youthoughtyou did, and even when things get complicated, love is still extremely simple.” She placed her hands on her hips. “I love you with all of me, and lifelong love is a choice, and I choose to love you forever. I promise no matter what happens while we’re apart in the next few weeks, I will not be moved by frustration or setbacks. I will remember the end goal. I will keep that goal in mind with every choice I make, and I will keep working toward it no matter what things look like until I’m with you again, and we make a whole new set of goals. I can’t promise you that things will be perfect, but I can promise that as long as you’re trying, I’m staying.”
Connor dropped his head below his shoulders and covered his face.
The vow.
The one they’d both made in her car on the night before he came back to New Orleans. The one that now proved more than anything else that he wasn’t good for her.
“You stopped trying,” Liza said. “And the truth is I was fully prepared to stay anyway. Because that’s how much I loved you. But you stole that opportunity from me.”
Connor managed to look up at her. Her face was stoic. No tears this time. She was a closed book.
“But again,” she said, making her way out of the room and into the small hallway, “it doesn’t matter anymore.” She reemerged carrying a folded, sage green towel and offered it to him. “Feel free to use the shower if you want. I have some stuff to work on, so I’ll see you Monday.”
Connor couldn’t bring himself to take the towel, and she gave it a small shake at him. “It’s okay, Connor. Everything’s fine. I’m not angry anymore. I already forgave you. I promised that doing this wouldn’t make things weird. And I keep my promises. You’re not on the hook for anything.”
He still refused to take the towel, so she took a step closer to him, set it on his lap, and then kissed his cheek. “Go clean up. I’ll see you next week.”
She disappeared into the bedroom and closed her door, leaving him feeling more alone and isolated than he’d ever felt in his life, which was a serious fucking accomplishment.
Connor stood and made his way into her bathroom, lingering only long enough to set the towel on the counter and toss the condom in a wastebasket. Then he returned to the living room to dress, left the house, and immediately broke into a run.
He ran for forty-five minutes straight until he reached the ferry terminal, exhausted, panting, and with tunnel vision closing in around his eyes. And he wondered why he always had to wait for the damn ferry.
Why couldn’t he just swim across the river? He knew why a sane person couldn’t. They’d drown in the process. One of the things you learned growing up in New Orleans was if you tried to swim in the Mississippi, you’d be no match for the currents, and you’d never live to tell the tale.
But Connor wasn’t sane, and drowning seemed like sweet relief right about then.
He gave it a good long thought but saw the barriers, and the tourists, and the NOPD officers and figured all of that would render his efforts null and void. It would likely even cause him more hassle than he cared to deal with afterward.
So, Connor boarded the ferry. But as it churned its way across the Mississippi, he stared at the water, saw all the ghostlike faces, and didn’t fully let go of the idea.
21
French Quarter, New Orleans
Brennan had clearly been upset about something when he left the group at the music festival earlier that afternoon, but he’d made Liza a promise on a couple of occasions. And tonight, she needed him to make good on it.
Ten minutes after Connor had left her house, slamming the door behind him, Liza looked up Brennan’s home address on the record label’s internal directory and called a cab.
It was evening by the time the cab eased up to the curb in front of an iconic house on Royal Street in the heart of the French Quarter. Liza had seen photos of it on about a million postcards. It was a rose-colored building with a white door, green shutters, and two balconies that featured the signature wrought iron lace railing that was synonymous with the architecture of New Orleans.
Stepping out of the cab, Liza marched across the sidewalk, climbed the couple of steps that led to the front door, and knocked. “B.? Are you home?”
The house had to be around two hundred years old. Through the old walls, she perceived activity and conversation, and she gulped nervously.
Maybe she should’ve called first.
The door swung open. Brennan stood shirtless, holding together his unbuckled belt and unzipped slacks, slung low on his narrow hips. His dark-as-night hair was tousled and mussed as it hung over his eyes. His lips were swollen like he’d been passionately kissing someone. Behind him, a beautiful, young blonde woman sat on an ornate vintage sofa, clutching Brennan’s white dress shirt to her chest and giving Liza a death stare.
