Unable even now, I can’t give him what he wants from me. Well, that’s not exactly true. He’s requesting I give up my freedom, my future for him, and that I can’t do. But this—to look at him—I can give him. At least one last time.
“You love me.” Before I can confirm or deny it, he continues. “Whether you can admit it or not, you do. But you fear ending up being abandoned and hurt again more.” The accusation, though soft, almost tender, is still an accusation.
And it stings. No, damn that. It burns, bright and hot. Because it’s true.
“Yes.”
He wants me to confess that I’m a coward? Fine. I am. I’m terrified. And the risk of drowning in the confusion, loneliness, fear, and anger that shaped my childhood and adulthood isn’t worth a chance—a slim-to-none chance—that we could possibly have this grand Harry-and-Meghan fairytale couple ending. In my reality, princes don’t fall in love with commoners, and Jude can’t promise me forever.
Resignation flashes in his eyes, hardens his expression, before his face wipes clean of all emotion. He nods, shifting back and away from me. One step. Two. Three. A couple more, and he stands near my suitcases.
“I can’t make you trust me, Cypress. And without trust, I could never convince you that I love you more than your insecurities, doubts, and past. You’remyfuture, my everything. I’d fight for us—Dan, my mother, this whole world—but I can’t fight you. This time it’s you walking away from someone who loves you. Not the other way around.”
Turning, he pulls open the front door, then picks up my car keys from the small table next to the open entrance. He tucks them into his pocket and, arranging all the pieces of my luggage in his hands and under his arm, exits the apartment.
He doesn’t return.
I stand staring at the empty doorway for… God, I don’t know how long. A big, hollow void yawns wide inside me, damn near swallowing me whole. Part of me yearns to tumble head first into it and never claw my way out.
Somehow, I move my limbs. Packing up my last few remaining items, I hike my purse and bag over my shoulder, and then close the door to the place that has become more like home to me in the past few weeks than any other I’ve called by the same name.
Tears sting my eyes, and I don’t try to stop them as I descend the steps. There’s no one here to see them anyway. I force myself to go forward, to leave. Locating the car keys Jude left under my driver’s seat, I slide inside and turn the ignition, refusing to look behind me. If I do, I might not drive away.
In the end, I do.
I drive. And keep on driving.
Damn. For these past few months, I’d believed quitting my job and slinging drinks at a dive bar was hitting rock bottom.
I stand corrected.
Thisis not only the bottom of that rock, but I’ve jackhammered a few inches lower.
Chapter Sixteen
Cypress
I shiver against the late March wind and ring the doorbell of Dan and Katherine’s house one more time. I’d called ahead to let Dan know I would be dropping by, so he should be here. Anxious to get this errand over and done with, I aim my finger at the bell once more, when the door opens.
“Cypress,” Katherine greets with a warm smile. “Dan said you would be over. Please, come in.” She steps back, waving me in.
“Thanks, Katherine. It’s nice seeing you again,” I say, a lance of pain shafting my heart. God, just looking at her… Her youngest son might be the son with her eyes, but the shape of them, her smile—they’re all Jude. And the reminder of that son—of the man I haven’t seen in ten days—is almost too much.
“Are you staying for dinner?” She closes the door behind me, and briefly touching my elbow, guides me down the hall. Unlike last time, I don’t check out the framed photos on the wall. Like a horse with blinders on, I train my focus ahead of me, but the temptation to scan the pictures and study Jude’s image needles me, a splinter under my skin that no amount of pushing or prodding can release.
“No, not this time,” I belatedly answer. “I have work in an hour.”
“Oh, too bad. Maybe tomorrow for Sunday dinner?”
And sit across from Jude? No way in hell. “Maybe,” I murmur.
“I’ll take that.” She offers me another smile and another glancing touch on my arm. “I hope you can make it.”
I look over at her—really look—and wait for the familiar vestiges of bitterness, resentment. I dive deep, searching out even the tiniest scraps of the feelings that I’ve associated with this woman for thirteen years.
Nothing.
Maybe it’s because I see Jude in her, and I can’t find fault in anything that resembles him. Maybe it’s because I finally realize and accept that she didn’t have anything to do with the disintegration of my parents’ relationship, and it isn’t showing my mother disloyalty to like Katherine.
