I can practically hear the concern through the screen.
No, I’m not sure if I’m making the fucking right decision. But at this point, I can’t stick around the Bradford for another second.
I have to get away. Get some clarity. Figure out where things went so horribly wrong.
Plus, there’s no fucking way I could stand it if I happened to run into Evan in the hallway. Or worse—if he happened to not be alone.
My stomach clenches at the mere thought, and my heart feels like it’s going to rip my chest right open. I always thought that the term heartbreak was pretty stupid. Like, really, how can a heart fucking break?
Yeah, well, fuck me then. I was dead wrong. Because right now, the pain feels more like torture. Like this stupid organ in my chest is literally cracking, fracturing, fucking shattering.
But what else can I do at this point but get as far away from Evan as I possibly can? I contemplated some type of Antarctic expedition before remembering I really don’t like the cold all that much. But that’s how far I was willing to go to escape.
I pick up my phone and think about responding to Erin, pouring my heart out yet again and letting her convince me I’m making the wrong decision.
But no. I set it back down. I fucking committed, and I’m seeing this thing through.
Commitment.
At least I don’t have a problem with it.
And that’s what it all boils down to, isn’t it?
Evan won’t commit.
After all this time together, everything we’ve been through. All the ups and downs just to get to being a couple in the first place, followed by the most tumultuous relationship in the history of mankind. On and off again doesn’t even begin to cover it.
We’re such polar opposites. Yet…he complements me in every way. His drive and intensity offsets my wild passion. His steadiness to my free spirit.
Looks like that steadiness fell short when it came down to it.
But what the hell am I doing if I sit around waiting on a man that may never be ready to offer me what I need?
Who knew, right? The ultimate party girl. Purveyor of free love.
Turns out she was really looking for the same thing we all are.
Love.
A future.
A partner.
I knock back the shot of tequila and try to convince myself my watering eyes are from the sting of alcohol infusing my blood.
My phone blinks again, and I hate myself for the jolt of hope that courses through me when I glance down.
Nope. Erin again.
What time is your flight?
Why does it matter? But I pick up my phone and text her back. I still have an hour and half to go. Then I’ll be free from all the memories this city I love so much now holds.
I can’t go to a club without remembering Evan. I can’t look down an alley without thinking of him. I can’t even go to the lounge in my own damn building without remembering that night that c
hanged everything.
“Can I get my check?” I mumble to the bartender, staring blankly down at my phone so no one sees the tears that threaten to overflow.