I’m staying at the Waldorf Astoria. They’ll have a key and concert tickets waiting for you at the front desk.
-Nate
HANNA’S ON the treadmill. Again. That’s twice today. At least a dozen times so far this week. She’s practically taken up residence on the damn thing in the weeks since we split.
I put my hand on the rail and look at her, but she’s got her earbuds in and doesn’t even notice me. The club closed fifteen minutes ago.
What’s she running from?
My stomach knots as I think of those old texts between me and Meredith. Is that what has had her working out two to three times a day?
Her ponytail bobs as she runs, and her eyes
seem vacant without her ever-present smile. That smile’s been a rare sight these last weeks.
Suddenly she realizes I’m standing next to her, and she slows the treadmill to a crawl and takes in the empty club. “You’re closed,” she says, pulling the earbuds from her ears. “I’m sorry. I’ll get out of the way.”
The treadmill beeps as she shuts it down and hops off.
She grabs her purse off the floor and starts toward the door, but I touch her arm to stop her.
“I need to show you something.”
Her gaze drops to my hand on her arm then back to my face. Tiny splinters of regret drag through my heart at her expression. Every time she looks at me, I feel like I’ve smacked her. I can’t undo the past. I want to. I would. But I can’t, so I’m left here, helpless.
“Come with me,” I whisper. I lead her into the women’s locker room and past the showers to the floor-to-ceiling mirrors at the back. The silence pulses around us like an unwelcome visitor. I turn her toward the mirror and stand behind her.
She frowns at my reflection. “Max, what are you doing?”
My heart slams in my chest as I study her. There’s nothing I want as badly as I want to kiss her again. I want to taste the tender spot at the crook of her neck. I want to hear her soft moan as I pull her bottom lip between my teeth. I want to get her naked and touch her until she’s breathless and turned on, make her beg until she understands how fucking beautiful she is.
“Look.” The word comes out harder than I intended, a brusque command.
“At what?” Her gaze skips over her reflection quickly, dismissing it.
“Look at yourself, Hanna.” When she tries to turn, I hold her shoulders and make her face her reflection. “Look at the woman you are, not the woman you think you are.”
Her breath catches and she tries to turn away, but I hold her still, make her look. “I know what I look like.”
“Do you?” I skim my knuckles over her jaw. I can’t help myself. It’s been too long since I’ve touched her, and I miss the feel of her skin under my fingers. I miss her kiss. The way she’d curl into my chest and sigh like she’d found heaven and I was some sort of a god. I miss her laugh and her smile. I miss my girlfriend. “I don’t think you have any idea how beautiful you are, Hanna.”
Her eyes brim with tears. “Why are you doing this?”
“I see you out there, running like a woman possessed. Pushing yourself until your legs shake and you can hardly stand. Lizzy tells me you’re hardly eating. If you would just look at yourself. If you would see what I see and—”
“Stop.” She steps out of my grasp and turns her back to the mirror. “You don’t get to give me this speech, Max. Not you.”
“Why not?”
She crosses her arms under her breasts and lifts her chin. “Because it’s bullshit. We both know this isn’t about my so-called beauty. It’s about your guilt, but you don’t get to pretend anymore. I know the truth.”
My jaw hardens. “Pretend?”
“You know the truth. You know I’ll never be your type.” She pauses for a beat. Two. As if she needs a few seconds to remind herself to breathe. “And that’s okay. I’ve made my peace with that. But please don’t try to rewrite history and tell me that I was always the one you wanted.”
“I never said that. My biggest crime was being so hung up on Meredith that I didn’t see what was right in front of me. But I opened my eyes and realized what an idiot I was. I’d been on two, maybe three dates with you. I didn’t intend for anything to come of it. Then Meredith called me over—”
“I saw the texts,” she bites out. “I don’t need the play-by-play.”