After You (Because of You 2)

“There’s nothing to say,” I tell him.

“Yes, there is,” he disagrees. “There’s so much else to say. I agree with you. You’re right. You’re not gonna let this work.” Scoffing lightly, to himself, he says, “It just doesn’t change anything. I don’t see how you don’t get that. I’m not giving up on you, Nikki. I’m not getting over you. I don’t want to. Maybe this is Karma, maybe I’m getting my just desserts here, but the tables have turned. When we were kids, you saw this life we could have even though I fucked it all up, you believed in that life, you believed in me. You were in love with the life you knew we could have together, and I couldn’t see it. I mean, I could see it, but I couldn’t see how we’d ever have it. I didn’t believe in us the way you did. And then you wrote that fucking book.” He laughs, leaning his head back against the door and shaking his head in disbelief. “And you painted me a picture. You were trying to show me what our life could’ve been, Nikki, but you showed me what our life can be. You made me fall in love with a life that isn’t ev

en ours, but I knew it could be. If you wanted it, I wanted it too, and there was nothing in the way anymore; I just couldn’t find you to tell you. And now I have you here in the flesh, and I have this life in my head, this life I am completely in love with… and you won’t let us have it, because you can’t believe in it.”

If I didn’t already live every day with a broken heart, those words would do it. I hurt so much for both of us in this moment, for past versions of each of us as well as the current ones. I hurt for the girl he so aptly described, the one who believed wholeheartedly in a future with him, but a future he wouldn’t chase with her. I hurt for the boy he was back then, blinded to what could be, making all the wrong choices. I hurt deeply for the man standing in front of me, because I didn’t intend to make him fall in love with something he couldn’t have. I understand that pain too well to ever wish it on anyone else, especially him.

And I hurt for me, because after pouring my heart and soul out in the books he is referring to, somehow I still find it within myself to tell him right now, “It’s only a book, Derek. It was a fantasy, nothing more.”

“Well, it’s my fantasy.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell him quietly. “I’m sure you’ll have it with someone. But not with me.” My voice breaks on that last word, and it’s more than I can take. Shoving him out of the way, I throw open the door and run back out of the house, run to the beach bag. I grab my things without a word to any of the adults, but before I leave, I run over to Cassidy. Thankfully, she was busy playing with her friends and she missed all of this.

“Hey, can I get a hug?” I ask her.

“Uh huh,” she tells me with all the innocence of a child, pushing up off the ground and throwing her arms around me. “You wanna play with us?”

“I would love to, but I can’t. I have to get going.”

“I thought you were spending the night,” she says.

“That was the plan, but I had a work thing come up. I have to get back so I can take care of it.”

Screwing up her little nose, she tells me, “You work too much.”

She doesn’t mean anything by it, but her words make me tear up all over again. I don’t want her to see it, so I grab her and hug her one more time. “You’re a great kid, Cassidy. I’ve had so much fun hanging out with you.”

“I have fun with you, too,” she tells me, bending down to pick a dandelion out of the ground. She holds it out to me proudly, smiling. “Look, I picked you a flower.”

Gently taking the flimsy stem from her small fingers, I manage a smile. “Thank you, Cassidy. I love it.”

It’s too hard not to cry, so I ruffle her hair one more time, then I head for the road. I fumble with my phone, trying to open my Uber app, but I can’t see past the tears.

I decide to be kind to myself, to give myself a break and just let myself feel this pain. Just for a minute, I’ll let myself cry it out. I’m terrified Derek will come after me, but I think he finally got the message this time. I let him sneak past my walls once, but I’ve upped security since then.

I’m not the girl I was when I loved him, and I can never be her again. I won’t.

Chapter Thirty

Release day is set, my book is edited, edited again, edited a third time, and proofread. I haven’t slept for more than two hours in… I can’t remember how long, but Dreamcatcher is on its way to publication.

I had to call in Nadia to do the final proofread since Louise and I both already had eyes on it. It ended up working out, because I need someone else to handle all the promo for this book. I should do it myself, I’m much more familiar with the content, but writing anything even remotely romantic makes me feel nauseous right now, so it’s a no-go.

Well, I suppose the nausea could be from the lack of sleep. I’ve put “sleep” on my to-do list, but I haven’t made it there yet.

Nadia walks in from the kitchen with a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. She cocks a dark eyebrow at me and asks, “So, I know Louise told me not to ask about it, but can we pitch the broken dandelion in the vase on your counter?”

“No,” I reply, looking back at my computer screen.

“It’s starting to grow a gray mold, Nicole.”

“Don’t care.”

“Can we at least move it out to the front porch?” she requests.

“It stays on the counter,” I inform her.

“You’re going to breathe in mold spores and get sick,” she states.