His jaw flexed like he wanted to argue, or reach for me, or say something that would make this easier, but he didn’t. I gave him one last, watery smile before I shut the door and walked away, forcing myself not to look back or to give in to the pull that felt almost physical in my chest as I made my way into the building, through the lobby, and into the elevator.
Step by step, choice by choice, I put him behind me, but my hands were trembling as I unlocked my door. I set my bag down slowly beside it after I walked in, drifting to the window on an instinct I couldn’t explain, but as soon as I reached the glass, I understood it.
Jesse was still there, parked right where he had been, with his engine idling and headlights cutting through the drizzle. Waiting, watching, and making sure I was okay.
My throat tightened as I stood there, lifting my hand to the cool pane. I let myself stare at his car for precisely ten seconds before I stumbled over to the light switch and flicked it on. Now that it was obvious I was inside and safe, I knew it would only be a matter of time before that car pulled away.
Sure enough, a few moments later, I went back to the window and it was gone. Somehow, that was the part that hurt the most.
CHAPTER 31
JESSE
I’d worn a path into my floor, pacing back and forth from my kitchen to the window, the window to couch, and the couch to nowhere in particular. Sitting down just didn’t stick and standing didn’t help.
Sleep? Yeah, I tried that. It was a joke.
It had been days of this. Days of reaching for my phone, putting it down, and picking it up again like maybe this time would be different, but it never was. There was never a message waiting from her. No missed call. No email.
I’d called her a few times, though. I’d also sent exactly one, single text.
Me: I’m here when you’re ready.
That had been it.
I hadn’t tried to go for anything clever, but after a few days of just staring at those blue ticks with zero response, I was starting to wonder if I should’ve. I’d figured I’d keep it simple and give her space, but fuck.
This sucked.
I scrubbed both palms over my jaw and groaned when I felt the beard I’d grown over the last few days. I’d never liked the feel of facial hair on my skin, but shaving had seemed likea waste of time. I wasn’t going anywhere anyway, and frankly, this unshaven, mostly unwashed, sweats and a T-shirt look was fitting right now.
Feel like shit. Look like shit.
This wasn’t me. I didn’t do the whole wallow-in-misery, curl-up-on-the-couch-and-just-stare thing. For thirty-fucking-four years, I’d managed to avoid heartbreak at all costs, and now look at me, wrecked, but still not down and out.
I’d even managed to find a silver lining in all of this. Ultimately, Jacque had been right. I wasn’t going to play into this media firestorm or parade her around like some kind of proof that the Westwoods could love normally.
Whatever the hell that even means.
I wasn’t going to use myself as bait and I sure as hell wasn’t going to turn her into that either.
“The reformed playboy,” I muttered under my breath, rolling my eyes as I pushed off the window and started pacing again. “Jesus, what had I been thinking?”
I liked who I was. I always had. Sure, I was flawed. Sometimes, I was even a bit of a disaster, but I knew myself and I didn’t pretend. I didn’t bend for people unless they mattered. The only time I’d ever seriously considered changing had been for Will. I’d do it again in a heartbeat for Zach too.
My heart ached for him as my thoughts shifted gears. This whole thing had started because of him. For once in my life, I’d wanted to be useful, and in this case, that’d been possible. I could use my public persona to take the heat off Zach, but somehow, I’dstillmanaged to screw it up.
A knock sounded at the door and I frowned as I glanced at the clock. I wasn’t expecting anyone, but another knock made me drag my ass to the door. When I yanked it open, I was half-expecting Will, but instead, Zach stood on the other side, lookingthe kind of tired that seemed to have settled behind his eyes and would never leave.
I stepped back, jerking my head at the inside of the apartment. “Yeah, come in. Coffee or scotch? Hey, have you tried mixing them? That could be worth it.”
“It’s ten a.m.,” he said as he followed me in. “I mean, I’m not saying no, but we should probably just think about it for a second.”
I paused for at least double that amount of time before I let the door swing shut behind him. “There. I’ve thought about it. Do you want some or not?”
“Coffee, scotch, or both?”
I shrugged. “Pick your poison. I won’t judge.”