He stares at me.
“Is that true?” I yell.
“I’m not the man for you, Emily,” he replies calmly, and I know that this is a practiced speech.
I frown as the walls begin to close in around me. “What?” I whisper.
“You’re in love with Jim.”
I angrily swipe the tears as they roll down my cheeks.
“I’m Jameson. Jim doesn’t exist, Emily. He’s a figment of your imagination, the man you want me to be.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I cry.
“You’re better off without me.”
“If this is about Jake—” I stammer.
“This isn’t about Jake, although I’m fucking furious with you for lying to me.”
“I swear to you that nothing happened,” I cry.
“I know it didn’t.”
“Then why?” I whisper. “I don’t understand. We belong together, Jay.”
“I can’t.” He closes his eyes and pauses for a moment as if steeling himself to push the words past his lips. “I don’t want marriage and babies. I don’t want the same things as you. I’m not cut out to do normal, Emily. I’m married to my job. It will never change. I’ve thought long and hard about this.”
I step back from him as horror dawns. I can hear my own heartbeat in the silence.
“I will always love you,” he whispers.
I stare at him through tears . . . what the fuck is happening right now?
He brushes past me and goes into the bathroom, and the door closes. I stare at a piece of carpet on the floor, shocked to my core. After the beautiful night we had together . . . this is how he treats me?
He reappears fully dressed, and his eyes find mine. “Can I give you a lift somewhere?”
“If you walk out that door now, we are over forever,” I whisper.
His eyes hold mine. “I know.” He steps forward and kisses me softly as he cups my face in his hands. Our faces screw up against each other’s. “This is for the best; another man can make you happier.”
/> I step back, furious. “Don’t you dare throw that shit at me.”
“Do you want a lift or not?”
“Go to hell,” I spit.
His haunted eyes hold mine. “I’m already there.” He turns and walks out the door. It clicks quietly behind him.
I sob out loud into the silence as I hold my poor heart.
Chapter 23
I sit on the carpet cross-legged, with my back rested against the couch, and flick my phone. I watch it spin until it slows in momentum, and I spin it again.
It’s been a weird day today—one of realization and the closing of a chapter in my life.