He clears his throat, his voice low and rumbly with something like pain. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, Sadie.”
I cross my arms over my chest, because it really is fucking freezing and I didn’t bring my coat. “Why did you lie to me?”
“I didn’t lie. I haven’t been Jackson Bennett in a long time. Jack Thomas is who I am now.” He starts to remove his coat.
I hold up my hand to stop him. “I don’t want your jacket. I don’t want you to hide behind your chivalrous, meaningless gestures, Jack. I want you to tell me the fucking truth.”
He stares at me for a minute, but he knows me well enough by now to know I’m not backing down. Sighing, he pushes his glasses up on his nose and starts talking. “I sold my first painting when I was eleven. Not for much, couple hundred bucks I think, and just to a family friend. They hung it in their living room, where all their rich friends could see, and seemingly overnight, everyone wanted a painting from the art-world wonder kid. I made my first million by fifteen. My parents were supportive but protective. They wouldn’t allow anyone to photograph me, and they never let me make appearances in person, so I essentially stayed hidden the entire time I was ‘famous.’ Kept going to school, kept living a regular life, painting on the weekends andduring school breaks, just making millions in my spare time.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but his eyes fall. “By the time they died, I’d already moved into the brownstone, and was no longer a minor, obviously, but I still did the whole never-show-my-face routine because it had worked for me so far. No one ever saw Jackson Bennett. And the money I made combined with my parents’ estate set me up financially for life.”
It’s like he’s telling me the story of someone else. He sounds so detached from the whole experience, like he’s reading from a Wikipedia page.
“Is Jackson Bennett your real name?” I latch on to the small details, still struggling to connect the dots and paint the full picture.
He shakes his head. “Not fully. My legal name is Jackson Bennett Thomas. As things took off, my parents didn’t want me to use my real last name, so we went with my middle name instead.” He takes a step closer to me.
I take an equal step, farther away. Because I can’t believe this is happening tonight. I knew it was coming, I knew something would eventually blow us up, but I wasn’t ready for it to be tonight.
“Sadie, I didn’t mean to lie. Truly, Jackson Bennett died in that car with my parents. I’m not that person anymore, and I won’t be ever again.” His eyes are pleading, and he reaches out for me.
And I want to go to him. To tell him I understand. I’m tempted to forgive him, because even with this betrayal, he’s still the best man I could ever hope for.
But I can’t let myself have this, this happiness and this success. It’s too much. And I am still not enough.
“I can appreciate that, Jack, but it doesn’t change the fact that youkept this huge part of yourself, your life, your childhood, secret from me.” I hug myself a little tighter. “I told you things. Real things. When you asked about my parents, I told you the whole truth.”
“Did you?” His question cuts through the air, though there is no malice in his tone. “Did you tell me everything about them? About your relationship? About the things that were said to you? Or just what you were comfortable sharing?” He tugs on the curls at the nape of his neck. “I told you things, Sadie. Things I haven’t shared with anyone else.”
He’s right. And the worst part is I know he’s right. The slivers Jack and I have revealed to each other have come in slow pieces, little bits of memories and experiences and small shards of our souls. But I haven’t told him everything. Not even close. I certainly haven’t told him how I do my best to push all the good things in my life away, before they can hurt me.
And so, I push. “I’m going to go inside now, but I think you should go. I can’t deal with all of this, not tonight.” I walk back toward the door, giving Jack a wide berth so I don’t take his proffered hand.
“Don’t walk away from me because you don’t think you deserve to be happy, Sade.”
I spin around, his condescending tone just enough to push my buttons. “How dare you put this on me. I’m walking away because tonight is huge for me, and I’m not going to let you ruin it. And you don’t get to tell me how to react when you’re the one who fucked up. You fucked up, Jack. Not me. And trust me, no one is more surprised by that fact than I am. I spent all this time thinking how much I don’t deserve you, and turns out, you’re the one lying to my face.” A small river of relieftrickles through me. He’s presented me with something I never thought I would get from him: a justifiable reason to leave.
“That’s a cop-out and you know it.” He crosses over to me, backing me up against the door. “Maybe I did fuck up, and I’m sorry I hurt you, but you don’t get to tell me how I manage my grief.”
“Wow, you’re really going to hide behind your dead parents?”
Jack jerks away from me as violently as if I’d slapped him.
I hate myself the second the words are out of my mouth, wanting to take them back and beg for his forgiveness, the look of absolute pain in his eyes a knife in my heart.
But I don’t get a chance. Because Jack turns and walks away without another word.
Nineteen
Harley takes onelook at me when I walk back into the shop and gives Nick and Gemma the time-to-wrap-it-up signal. I duck into my office, unable to even say my goodbyes as everyone leaves, shouting congrats and promising to share their photos and tell their friends.
Gemma and Lucy stay behind to manage cleanup with the hired staff while Nick and Harley walk me back to the brownstone. The closer we get, the more my stomach threatens to heave its contents all over the frozen sidewalk. I can’t believe what I said to him, the words and the hurt in his eyes looping in my mind like a GIF on repeat.
“Do you want us to come in?” Harley walks me right to the front door, holding on tightly to both of my forearms, as if she can tell I’m on the verge of collapse.
I shake my head, unable to make any words come out of my mouth.
“Call me tomorrow.” She jogs back down the steps to where Nick waits for her.
They both stand there until I get inside the house. As soon as the door closes behind me, I beeline upstairs and to my room, not wanting to chance a run-in with Jack. I think we both need to sleep on the events of the night, which is, you know, a huge downside to living with your boyfriend, when you find out he’s a liar and your response is to say the worst possible thing right to his face. Too much has happened, too much has been said, for anything productive to come of more conversation tonight.
