“I don’t want to lose you,” I said, sniffling back tears. My breaths were short and shallow as I continued. “But that doesn’t matter. I can’t, do, this, anymore.”
“No.” He shook his head. “If Saturday night proved anything, it’s that this needed to end.”
A knife in my heart, even though he was right.
“Not – I only meant that we couldn’t keep going like this,” he explained.
I nodded and wiped away an invisible tear. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter anyway. I just thought you should know right away.”
“You look scared shitless. Did he hurt you?”
“He would never,” I said.
“Tell me what happened. You should have come to me first. I would have told you with him so he could take it out on me.”
“There’s nothing to tell yet. I told him right before he left for work.”
“He went to work?” David asked, incredulous.
“He said we’d discuss it tonight.”
He rubbed his hand over his forehead, muttering something about a fool. “Fuck. He might ask for a divorce. Is that what you want?”
“His family is strictly against it, as is he. He won’t.”
“But what do you want, Olivia?”
“I don’t know,” I said with blurry eyes. “I came here to tell you that you and I are done.”
After a brief silence, he asked, “Don’t you want to know what I want?”
“No,” I lied.
“Things can’t just end this way. There’s too much here.”
I closed my eyes and whispered, “Please don’t make this any harder.”
“So that’s it?” he asked. His voice both rose and deepened. “Did you think you would just come here and tell me it’s over?”
I nodded. “What else is there to say?”
“Now is the time to say everything.” He came to me slowly and gently cupped my face. I felt myself melting under his loving gaze. “This was never a fling for me, baby. You mean so much more to me than that.” He swallowed audibly. “I’m not ready to let you go.”
It he hadn’t been holding my jaw, it would have dropped. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying what I’ve always said. I want more. We can do this – ”
There was a knock at the door. “Mr. Dylan?”
“Not now, Clare,” he called irritably over his shoulder. He looked back at me. “I want – ”
“Mr. Dylan,” the voice came again. He groaned and dropped his hands. “There’s a very important client on line two.”
I watched as he stalked away, pinching his nose. I waited with bated breath. What did he want? What would he say? Did I want to hear it? Did I ever. I was aching to hear it.
He wrenched the door open. “Where have you been?” he yelled at her. “Reception was empty for over twenty minutes.”
“I’m sorry, I had to make a quick call,” Clare said. “But there’s – ”
“You’re fired.”
My mouth fell open.
“What?” she asked. “No, it was an emergency, I’m sorry!”
“Do you have emergencies every few hours? I’ve told you before, no personal calls in the office. Pack up your shit. You’re fired.”
As I watched her through the sliver of doorway, I had to look away from her shocked expression. I considered interjecting when something on his desk caught my eye.
“It won’t happen again,” she pleaded.
“If you’re not gone by the time I finish here, I will escort you myself.”
Their voices faded into the background. I leaned over and slid a stack of papers closer. My heart began to thump as I stared at the address on the sales contract in front of me. No. It can’t be . . . . It can’t . . . . I flipped the page to see the signature. Lucas David Dylan.
He slammed the door and turned back to me. “I’m sorry,” he said. “As I was saying . . .” I made a sound as I scanned the document, but it was getting harder to read with the tears that were pooling in my eyes. “Now that it’s all out – ”
“What is this?” I whispered, turning to face him. I held up the contract. “What is this, David?”
He stilled. His face became anxious as he stared at me, unmoving. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” he mumbled.
“You bought the Oak Park house?”
He sighed deeply and swiped a hand over his face. “Yes.”
A vicious tremble overtook my body, and the papers rustled audibly in my hand. “You asshole,” I fumed.
“Let me explain,” he started.
“You lied to me?”
“I didn’t lie, I was going to tell you.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it! How could you do this to me? You know how I loved that house!”
“Hang on, let me – ”
“Was this just a game for you? Did you get some sort of sick pleasure from destroying my marriage?”
“Of course not, Olivia, if you’ll just be quiet – ”
“How could you?”
“That’s enough!” he demanded.
“It doesn’t matter. None of this matters. You’ve made yourself very clear,” I said, waving the papers at him and throwing them on the desk. “Thank you for making this easy.”
“Goddamn it. Stop running away!” he boomed. “For once, just stay and face the truth!”
I whirled toward him. “Why’d you do it?”
“Sit, and I will explain everything. I’m not going to tell you through a screaming fit like a couple of teenage girls.”
“And give you the chance to think up an excuse? I’m not stupid,” I said smugly, picking up my trek across the office.
He stepped to block me from the door.
“Don’t you dare come near me,” I said with as much venom as I could muster. “This time I mean it.”
“You listen to me,” he snarled, pointing at the exit. “Walk out that door, and that’s it. I’m not coming after you anymore. Everything I’ve let you get away with – you owe me the chance to explain. So sit down.”
I was frozen to the spot by his forceful tone, but no less infuriated.
He gestured at his couch. “I said sit the fuck down. I will explain everything, I will give you everything, but I’m no fool. I will not chase you anymore.”
There was no doubt in my mind; what he’d done couldn’t be exp
lained away. It was unforgivable. I gave him a pointed look before whipping open the door and slamming it behind me. Clare looked at me with huge eyes and started throwing her things together faster.
Alone in the elevator, I ordered myself to curb the tears. It wasn’t worth it. I didn’t know what perverted satisfaction he got from buying the house out from under us, but I didn’t want to know. Do not cry, I instructed myself. It’s not worth it. But it didn’t work that way. By the time the elevator hit the ground floor, big, dense tears were leaking from my eyes. I was drowning quickly, and there was only one person I could call.
~
“Hey, girl!”
“Hi,” I said with a clogged throat. I held the cellphone away from my cheek for a moment until the urge to cry passed. “I need to talk.”
There was a moment of silence before Gretchen spoke. “Okay, yes, let’s talk. Now?” Her voice was excited.
“Now. Can I come over?”
“I’m just leaving work. Meet you there.”
I wondered if she’d still have ice cream from when Lucy and I had been there, but the thought of eating made my stomach lurch.
When she opened the door to her apartment, I instantly hugged her tightly.
“Oh my God, what?” she asked frantically, peeling me off by my shoulders. “What is it?”
“I did it,” I said calmly. “David Dylan.”
Her face fell visibly. “Oh, Liv. No. You didn’t.”
I only nodded.
“Come inside,” she said, coaxing me over to the couch.
And on the couch, I told her everything from the beginning. I told her about the first night at David’s apartment – how I’d lied about going home sick and the months of rock-bottom despair that followed. My hand clawed into a decorative pillow when I told her how being with him in his hotel room had changed everything. Our connection had solidified and powered through me like a tornado. My feelings were strong and deep-rooted, I said, and I didn’t know how to handle them. Everything was out of control. I hung my head as I recounted the ball; how we’d had sex against a tree, and he wouldn’t even look at me afterward.
“And that’s how it ended?” she asked after a long silence.