Kitty slid her thumb across the screen to end the call, and rested her head on the cold glass window beside her as Drake pulled the car into the drop-off lane.
So that was that then, the end of her time here, the end of Christmas, and the end of her and Adam.
If only she could end the pain squeezing around her broken heart.
30
Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak
whispers the o’er-fraught heart, and bids it break
– Macbeth
Everywhere he looked there were reminders of her. The box by the fireplace where they’d first put the puppy, a cardigan she’d left behind on the back of a dining chair. A glass, still lipstick-stained, that he couldn’t even bring himself to touch. He was afraid he’d squeeze it hard enough to break it.
The way his own heart had shattered.
He couldn’t even face going into his bedroom. He’d tried, but the door only opened a crack before he could smell her fragrance – a sweet floral scent that made his stomach clench – and he’d slammed the door firmly shut.
Jesus, what was he supposed to do with himself? He paced up and down the small room, his body as tense as a caged animal, his hands fisted tight. He stopped by the fireplace again, closing his eyes for a moment, remembering the way she’d looked at him as he’d told her he didn’t want her. Her eyes were watery, reflecting the green of the forest behind him, and her lip trembled until she stilled it with her teeth.
And then he got to thinking about the meal. The way everybody knew apart from him. The way they all hid the truth from him as though he didn’t matter. The way she’d sided with his brother when he needed her the most.
He was going to be sick. He ran to the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet, but nothing came out. Just a dry retch that made his guts ache the same way his heart did. He lay there for a while, his cheek pressed against the cool floor tiles, before he finally stood and cleaned his mouth and his face. His reflection stared back at him – dark eyes rimmed with red, mouth twisted into a scowl – and he barely recognised himself.
Every now and again he’d look out of the window, his eyes scanning the treeline to see if anybody was coming. Did he want her to come? Hell no. Was he disappointed she didn’t? Damn right he was.
He wanted to give her another piece of his mind. Tell her that her lies had cut him like a knife, only he didn’t think these wounds would heal. No, that was wrong. He wanted to show her that she didn’t affect him at all. That she was just a convenient piece of ass, almost hand delivered to him for Christmas.
If only that were true.
Later, after a run that did nothing to calm his brain, he collapsed in front of the fireplace, ignoring the way even the rug smelled of her. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing only through his mouth, and before he knew it, he’d drifted into a restless sleep. One that made him sweat like crazy and yet still wake up freezing. One that gave him no peace at all.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever find it again.
It was as though the whole of LA had decided to shut up shop for Christmas. As the taxi made its way through the city streets, past the lit-up houses and the closed-up shops, she was surprised at how empty the normally blocked roads were. For the first time ever, her journey from the airport to her home took less than half an hour. Just when she’d be happy for the distraction to continue, the cab pulled up at her Melrose apartment.
She paid the driver and pulled her cases up to the front door, tapping her electronic key against the pad to let herself in. She checked their small metal mailbox before calling for the elevator – taking out the pile of mail that had accumulated during their absence.
Her room-mates had gone home for the holidays. When she let herself inside, the place smelled a little stale, as though the air had stayed still for too long.
Flicking on a light, she dragged her cases into the living area – a small space only just big enough to fit a single sofa inside. Taking the pile of letters in her hand she sat down heavily on the cushions, letting her head fall back onto the sofa for a moment.
What a day. No, what a month. The last time she’d been in here was just before she left for West Virginia, her mind full of showreels and assignments, not to mention that internship she still hadn’t got. Speaking of which, a quick sort through the letters revealed another two rejection notes. Way to make her day even worse than it already was.
Not that it could really get much worse. In the history of bad Christmases, this had quickly found its way to the top, eclipsing even the first Christmas Day after her mother had died. At least then she’d been surrounded by family – celebrating the day with her sisters and their father.
Today she was completely and absolutely alone.
And it hurt like hell.
She couldn’t let herself think about him. If she did, she knew the tears would start to fall, and if they started, she wasn’t sure they’d ever stop. She only had to remember the way he’d looked at her just before he turned and made his way back towards the forest to want to cry all over again. He’d stared at her as though she’d stabbed him through the heart with the sharpest of knives.
Maybe she had.
She couldn’t blame him for walking away. She’d betrayed him in the worst kind of way. She’d told herself she was lying to him for his own good, that she’d give him the gift of Christmas Day with his family before telling him about the movie script she’d seen.
But the fact was, it was herself she was protecting. In the end it had taken a seven-year-old boy to do what she couldn’t – to tell Adam the truth about Everett’s plans.