“No,” she yells down the line, and it’s loud enough for Leo across the aisle on the private jet to raise his head from the book he’s reading. His brow quirks, and I look away to stare unseeing out the window.
“Please just stop,” Tori continues in a more measured tone. “There is nothing to be gained from us meeting. We’re done. We were done three months ago, and we’re still done now.”
“But, Tori—”
“No … there are no buts. Nothing has changed for me. And now I have to go. Goodbye, Gio.”
The call disconnects, yet I continue to stare at the device in my hand, hardly able to believe that telling her about the wedding has made no difference to us.
“Are you okay?” Leo asks, still staring at me, the book now lying closed on the table in front of his seat.
“She doesn’t want to see me,” I admit, shaking my head in the hope that the jumble of thoughts will fall into place and make sense. I’d imagined that as soon as I told Tori that I wasn’t marrying Lucia, we could go back to the way we were before. But I couldn’t be more wrong. She doesn’t want anything to do with me.
“I need a drink. Do you want one?”
Leo nods, and with a snap of the seat belt, I jump up to find the stewardess to get us a bottle of whiskey and a couple of glasses.
***
It turns out that copious amounts of whiskey at fifty thousand feet was a bad idea. A really bad idea.
“I’m leaving,” Tori announces from the other end of the hallway in Ryan’s apartment. I lean against the nearby wall to steady myself. In my fucked-up, whiskey-addled brain, I thought if Tori saw how sorry I was that she’d talk to me. And that, somehow, when I’d explained better in person than I could sober on a call, she would agree to give me a second chance.
I’m a fucking idiot.
“Tori?” The plea that sounded right a second ago in my head dies on my lips.
“Not now, Gio. If you want to speak to me, you need to sober up first.”
Then she’s gone, and I’m left propped against the wall, with Tori’s sister staring at me like I’m a monster and Ryan trying to coax me back into the living room. I stagger to the sofa and drop into it. My head falling back against the cushions before I dig my fingers into my scalp in an effort to bring clarity to my thoughts.
When Ryan returns with a tall glass of water, I accept it gratefully and gulp it down like a man lost in the desert for thirty days.
“What was that all about?” he asks, taking the single chair nearby.
The muscles in my neck strain to lift my head to peer at him. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”
“Yep. But mate, we all have the capacity to do that. It’s how you fix the fuckup that matters.”
“You think there’s a chance that I can come back from this?”
“I don’t know,” he says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “All I do know is that Tori was pretty upset when you dumped her. And she hasn’t dated since.”
“I didn’t dump her,” I argue, but my voice is weak and lacking conviction. I guess, in her eyes, I did.
“Do you want to stay in the guest room tonight?” he asks.
“Thanks, man. And I’m sorry for turning up on your doorstep like this.”
“That’s what friends do. But if you upset Tori again and, in turn, my girlfriend, then I might have to kick your ass. So please sort your shit out.”
I nod solemnly, knowing it’s not an entirely idle threat, as Ryan will do anything for Charli, including giving me the ass-kicking I deserve. I drag myself to standing, reaching out to grab the armrest when I sway on my feet. Then slowly trudge along the hallway to the spare bedroom.
A new plan to win back Tori starts tomorrow.
Chapter twenty-two
Tori
