Burn My Hart (The Notorious Harts 2)

Seeing what ‘love’ did to my mom, my stepmothers, to Jagger, to anyone and everyone, leaves me in little doubt that I did the right thing. I don’t want any part of that world, and never have done.

But I do want Asha. I want her with every single part of me.

Enough to put my own doubts aside?

The sky is grey and bleak, rain threatening. I stare out at it, my eyes scanning the skyline, and then I imagine Asha, as I often do. What’s she doing? Where’s she at? Manhattan is massive so I’m not surprised we haven’t run into each other, but it doesn’t stop me from looking for her everywhere I go.

Fuck.

It’s been ten weeks. Seventy days. When the hell am I going to stop feeling like a fire’s been lit in my chest? I’m hollowed out, barely recognisable as the man I used to be.

I feel...

I feel...

I don’t know.

I’ve never felt anything like this before. My life is tied to hers, I know that. I’m so sick of waking up and knowing I won’t see her. That I won’t get a text from her. That I won’t hear her voice or be able to make her laugh.

I’m so sick of this.

That night we met for a drink, the night we broke up, I told her I just wanted her, and it’s true. I do. I want Asha. But enough? Enough to put aside years of telling myself love is the devil itself? Enough to admit to myself that what we were—what we are—goes way beyond sex?

Fuck.

I pull my hair up into a bun, jerking an elastic around it hard, frustration evident in every line of my body.

I can’t see that future. When I think about marriage and everything Asha wants, a part of me closes up like a vice. But when I think about Asha, when I imagine I’m with her again and everything’s fine, I can breathe, I can finally breathe.

But I can’t go to her and ask her to take me back unless I’m willing to offer her every damned thing she wants, and I don’t know that I am. I just know I can’t keep going like this. I just know I need to see her, to hell with what makes sense, to hell with the fact it’s selfish and ill-advised.

I need to see Asha like I need air and water, and I can’t ignore that for a moment longer.

* * *

It doesn’t occur to me for even one second that she won’t be feeling as crappy as I do. I imagine we’re two sides of a coin, both tortured by our separation, both made miserable by not being together. I imagine she’s in hell, just like me.

So when I see her walking towards her apartment with a huge smile on her face and some beefcake guy at her side, it’s like having the ground ripped out from under me. I’m glad I’m partially obscured by a lamppost. It gives me longer to watch unobserved. It gives me a chance to leave without letting her know I came here.

But I don’t leave. It’s like watching a head-on collision. I’m rendered silent by my shock.

They stop walking and I hold my breath, waiting to see what happens next. Is it a date? Maybe he’s just a friend.

She puts a hand on his forearm, leans forward and says something quiet. His eyes widen and he laughs, wrapping an arm around her, then pulls her towards the front door of her apartment building.

My heart is pounding inside me. I stare at it, unable to make any sense of what I’m seeing.

It’s a frigidly cold day but I stand there, staring at the apartment, as though with the sheer force of my will I can bring them back down, as if I can make him disappear out of her life.

My pulse is slamming through me and whatever indecision I’ve been toying with, seeing Asha so completely moved on with her life makes me realise how much I haven’t. And why.

* * *

‘I told you, it’s the best cheesecake ever, right?’

Kevin takes another bite, closing his eyes exaggeratedly, and nods. ‘Your heartbreak is terrible for my waistline, though.’

I don’t bother to deny that’s what I’m feeling. I’ve looked on the internet. I know it to be true.