I could text her back right now. Be at her place in twenty minutes. She’d welcome me with that easy smile, no questions asked, no emotional landmines to navigate. We’d fall into bed, and for a few hours I could forget about green eyes, paint-stained fingers, and the way Jesse’s face had looked when she’d called herself a hooker.
I stared at the phone. I hadn’t the faintest desire to reply. A couple of months ago I would’ve jumped at this. I would’ve seen it as the universe offering me an exit ramp from complicated feelings. Back then, I’d been the guy who could enjoy a woman’s company without letting her get under his skin. Who prided himself on knowing exactly when to walk away, always with a charming smile and a ‘let’s stay friends’ that usually worked.
I’d thought that made me honest and mature—better than the guys who led women on with false promises.
Now I wondered if it just made me a coward.
With Jesse, there was no compartmentalizing. She’d gotten under my skin, into my chest, and wrapped herself around my heart. And instead of walking away as I always did when things got too serious, I’d stayed. I’d wanted to stay.
I’d changed my whole life for her without even realizing it. I’d started thinking in terms of ‘we’ instead of ‘I.’ I’d imagined futures that stretched beyond next weekend. And I hadn’t felt trapped or suffocated the way I’d always feared I would.
Did I miss the easy sex? The drama-free hookups? The ability to wake up alone without feeling like something was missing?
Maybe a little.
But I missed Jesse more. I missed her so much it felt like a physical ache, as though someone had hollowed me out and left me empty.
I deleted Mia’s message without responding.
Around 1 a.m., I broke and reached for my phone again. I opened our message thread and texted Jesse:
I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I need to know you got home safely. Please text me.
I stared at the screen until my eyes burned, willing those three dots to appear. When they finally did, my heart hammered against my ribs.
I’m home safe. Thanks for checking up on me. Goodnight.
Relief and devastation hit me simultaneously. She was safe, but the formal politeness of her message was a door slamming in my face. This was how it ended—not with passion or promises, but with the kind of careful courtesy you showed strangers.
I collapsed onto my couch, phone still clutched in my hand, and let my head fall back against the cushions. The ceiling stared back at me, blank and unforgiving.
I’d truly thought I was helping her. I’d seen her talent, her fire, her incredible dedication to her art, and I’d wanted to give her the world. Instead, I’d stolen something from her—the satisfaction of earning it herself, the knowledge that her success was hers alone.
The worst part was, I’d known. Somewhere deep down, I’d known she wouldn’t want help. I’d known she was fiercely independent, that she needed to prove herself. That’s why I hadn’t told her.
I’d done it anyway, telling myself I knew better, that she’d thank me eventually. I’d done it so I could feel like a superhero. I’d been so damned arrogant. So convinced that my way was the right way.
Now she was gone, and I was alone in my apartment at 1 a.m., finally understanding what I’d lost. I’d lost the future we could have had, the mornings waking up next to her, theevenings cooking while she painted. I’d lost her laugh, her stubborn streak, the way she’d trace patterns on my chest while we talked about everything and nothing.
I’d lost the woman who’d made me believe in forever.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jesse
I’d forgotten how painful betrayal was. Alex used to blame me for everything too, calling me a drama queen. It was never his fault, always mine. Just like Sebastian had done last night, telling me I was overreacting, that I was running away because I was scared. Well, I wasn’t going to allow any man to treat me like that again. My dad had taught me better than that.
I had to be honest with myself. I loved Sebastian, even if I didn’t want to. Breaking up with him was like tearing off a piece of my heart and throwing it into the fire. But what other choice did I have? Even if he’d meant well, the bottom line was that he’d lied to me and had gone behind my back. He’d betrayed my confidence. There would be life after him—there had to be. I just had to pick myself up and live it. Focusing on my work was the key.
Once I reached home, I ditched my shoes and headed to the bathroom. Tears burned in my eyes when I found one of Sebastian’s shirts there. His scent lingered all over my little apartment, making my heart tighten painfully and hampering my breathing. I opened all the windows in a futile attempt to cleanse my home and my soul. Why was love so painful? If it was the most noble of feelings and the key to all the goodness of the Universe, why did it hurt so damn much?
I tried to unzip my dress, but couldn’t reach the zipper. Sebastian had zipped it for me that morning. After that, he’d brushed his lips over my shoulder. A shiver ran through me—rage, sorrow, longing, fury—a mix of emotions that turned my soul into a blender. With every second that I struggled with the zipper, I became more frustrated, and more tears ran down my cheeks. I felt trapped, helpless. In the end, I tore off the dress,tossing the pieces aside as I slid to the bathroom floor and gave in to the sobs I couldn’t contain any longer.
My life had been fine before Sebastian Wright entered it, but it had been like a charcoal sketch. Nice, detailed, skillfully done, but colorless. Sebastian had brought color into it, nuances, bright shades of red for love, yellow for smiles, blue for the blueberry pancakes that filled my mornings with joy. He’d brought passion and purpose. And even though I’d felt we were moving too fast at times, he’d been there to reassure me that we were in this together.
And through all of that, he’d been keeping a secret from me. Maybe more than one. How could I possibly know how many more?
I wiped my face with the back of my hand. I was being an idiot. Sebastian and I had dated only a few weeks. It had been fun, and now it was over. I had to move on, as no doubt he would too.
