Within a few trips, I had emptied my side of the closet and cleared my things from the bathroom. All traces of my existence were gone, packed up in my car. I’d broken the desk down and dropped it in the dumpster the day before, donating the monitors and chair, and putting the hard drive in my car. All that was left I had just packed.
Standing in the closet, I unzipped the bag with her wedding dress. It was elegant and simple, and I could only imagine how beautiful she would have looked. But it wouldn’t be me she would walk down the aisle for. I was giving that up, and someone else would steal it from me. It would be foolish to think I could find her again when this was over. That she would ever want me back after this.
I knew I would hold on to that hope. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t survive. I removed the note from my pocket—one small gesture to hold on to her, to assure her that I loved her—and placed it in the dress pocket. A smile tried to form when I thought of how typical it was that Tori would have a dress with pockets. But it faded as I zipped the bag back up, sealing away our happy ending.
I took one last look around the apartment to ensure I had removed all traces of me. A clean break would help her get over me. I would never get over her, but I wanted her to be happy again, and with traces of me in her life, she wouldn’t ever get there. Ebony locks draped over her pillow, her soft features tucked into it as she slept. I pushed a lock back and kissed her cheek, emotion threatening to undo me. Pressure formed behind my eyes as I slipped the engagement ring from her finger. I clenched it in my hand as my heart cleaved in two.
I needed to leave before I changed my mind. I was doing this to protect her and her family. It was something I kept remindingmyself. I’d been selfish, and I wouldn’t be anymore. Not if it risked her future and her family’s.
“Ti amo, luna mia.” I love you, my moon.
I walked out, not looking back at her, because looking back would destroy me. The paper flowers we’d made sat in the vase where I’d placed them last night. Tucking the ring in my pocket, I took the flower she’d made for me, leaving the other one. A piece of her to take with me since I could no longer have the rest of her.
Leaving my key on the counter, I left the apartment, locking the door behind me and knowing there was no going back now. Overcome with grief, I dropped my hands to my knees and held back the retching sob that was strangling me.
“Men don’t cry,” my father had told me on the day of my mother’s funeral. I could still feel the sting of his hand from the slap I hadn’t stopped.
Pushing back the emotion, I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and took forced steps away from the heart I was leaving behind. Readying myself for the long ride home and a life where love would never find me again. Tori was the only one I had ever let have a place in my heart, and no one else would ever take it from her. She had branded it with her claim, and I would never remove that claim, even if she gave it up after my actions.
The morning sun bled through the floor to ceiling windows that lined the family room of my childhood home. It had taken me sixteen hours with minimal breaks to arrive, and each minute that had passed had fractured me further. I touched my finger to the pane I had fallen through so many years ago, rememberinghow it had shattered, just like I currently was. Broken into too many shards to recognize it had once been whole.
It didn’t look like anyone had been to our home in the Hamptons for years. The house was eerily quiet, with the furniture draped in cloth sheets. My father had a penthouse in the city. Liv had one at the hotel we owned in the city.
“So, the prodigal son returns.”
I saw Liv’s reflection in the window as she entered the room but didn’t bother turning around. I had texted her to let her know I was back in New York.
Hands in my pockets, I continued to focus my gaze on the dunes.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” she said. “I know what it took to leave her.”
“Do you?” I asked, my voice too harsh considering I knew she had a sliver of knowledge. An inkling of the pain that held my body hostage.
“I do.”
She moved next to me. I hadn’t seen her in two years, and the distance weighed heavily between us. I glanced over at her. She had cut her long chestnut hair to her shoulders, giving her a more mature look. Her hazel eyes, twin to mine, had hardened from too many years of dealing with our father, of carrying the burden of the one he scrutinized the most and never hating me for it.
“You look like shit,” she said, giving me a sad smile.
“I feel like shit.” My voice broke on the last word, and I saw the pity in her eyes. For once, I wished we were a normal family. One like Tori’s, where a moment like this demanded a hug that wouldn’t ease the pain but would offer some comfort. But we weren’t. My mother had been that person, and all hope of it had died with her. I turned my eyes back to the window, bristling against the well of tears that I refused to release.
“There’s a penthouse suite for you at the hotel. Dad saved the top floor for you.”
“And you?”
“I have the floor below yours. Only the best for his son. You get an entire floor to yourself, while I get only a portion, just like always. My curse for being born female.”
It had always chafed me that he didn’t see Liv as my equal, didn’t recognize her firstborn status because she was female. My father was a sexist who would have been sued ages ago if his people didn’t excel at keeping him from the regular staff of his companies. Their nondisclosure agreements—NDAs—guaranteed his biases stayed guarded. His lawyers, all men of course, ensured there was never a chance for a slipup. Discretion ranked as high as his greed.
“I’d forgotten how pretty it is here,” I said, searching the sky and watching a bird swoop toward the water.
“Yeah. I never come out here anymore. There’s no reason to.” She rubbed her arms and turned away from the window. “I left your keycard for the elevator and your room on the table in the vestibule. Is that your piece of shit car out front?”
“It’s not a piece of shit; it’s only four years old.”
“Whatever. Have someone get rid of it. Your Jag is in the parking garage, just let the valet know who you are, and they’ll bring it up.”
The door slammed behind her, leaving me to my thoughts.
