“Not necessary.”
This couldn’t be how it ended. I knew if Lachlan walked out of this house, we were done. “After you kissed me in the dressing room at Paolo’s, you said things had changed between us. We were going to talk—about us.”
He grabbed a stocking cap and pulled it on his head. “I think I spoke in haste. You were pretty clear when we said goodbye at the airport you didn’t feel the same.”
Tears caught on the mascara Celeste had once recommended. “You didn’t speak in haste. I—”
“Olivia, we were a business arrangement, right? Two people in a terrible situation who stayed married to satisfy our individual goals. And we succeeded, don’t you think? Our relationship has run its course. In fact…I think I’d like to attend the premiere solo.”
This had to be his rejection talking. How did I get through to my own husband? “We’ve planned for your premiere for months. I’m your publicist—and your date.” Forget my usual need to control a client’s outcome; I just wanted to be with Lachlan on his big night, to see his face as he watched his movie for the first time, and to share in his moment.
Lachlan reached for my hand, his touch achingly gentle. “It’s time to go our separate ways.” He sounded so terribly polite. “It’s what I want.”
I swiped at the tears, simultaneously hurting for the both of us. “What ifIdon’t want to?”
His hardened features softened. “We’ve had a great time…and now it’s over. I think we both let the pretend roles go to our heads, but the last few days have given me a much-needed shot of reality.”
“I know you’re mad, but—”
“I’m not mad.” With a deep sigh, Lachlan leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead, his scent achingly beautiful and familiar. “I’ve got to go.”
I wanted to cling to him, grab his arms and never let go. “Please don’t leave yet.”Please don’t leave me.
“I’ll call in a few days.”
He wouldn’t. We both knew he wouldn’t.
Lachlan wrangled his suitcase down the stairs, as I trailed behind him, still waiting for the right words to turn back time and make all the wrong go away. But I had nothing.
This was what I’d once wanted wasn’t it? An easy break from Lachlan and a tidy divorce to clear the way for my new job.
But everything felt so wrong.
I followed him out the garage door and into the driveway where November had painted the sky as gray as my heart, and the wind blew just as frigid. Leaves that had held bravely onto branches now fell one by one, fluttering to the ground in surrender.
Lachlan tossed his suitcase in the backseat and opened his car door. He jangled the keys in his hand as he regarded me, the warmth gone from his gaze. This was the same man who had kissed me senseless and made me feel things no one else had. And now we were just done. Somehow this calm, quiet goodbye hurt more than my last dramatic, cheating breakup.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Me too.” Lachlan reached out and tucked a windblown piece of hair behind my ear, his fingers tracing the arc of my skin.
“I’ve told no one about Benjamin. Not one person.”
His hand fell away and tucked into the pocket of his pants. Lachlan said nothing, but his face made it clear he didn’t believe me.
“We still have work to do,” I reminded him.
“No.” Lachlan said it so resolutely, like he no longer trusted me with his career. Or his heart. “I’m done. And now you can get back to your regularly scheduled life plan, right?”
I could. And that should make me happy. But why didn’t it make me happy?
It was over. Our fake marriage had crashed just like that ill-fated boat in the Italian grotto. “I’ll miss you.” My quiet confession quivered with every syllable.
“Stay in the house as long as you need. My attorney will contact you with the next steps.”
That sounded so final. We were back to being cordial acquaintances, former associates. “Goodbye, Lachlan.”
He took my face in his hands one last time and brushed his lips over mine. “Goodbye, Livvy.”
