“You don’t understand. Earlier, I heard my mother talking to Gaston’s mother. She said something about you being a famous football player who’ll bring her much wealth. Then she said something about me ending up with Gaston and that she’ll see to it.”
“That is diabolical.”
“It’s revenge. I’ve been caught. It’s over.” She presses her hands to her eyes. “I can no longer run away. I can’t return to Concordia, to my life.”
I scramble to reassure her that it will all work out, but she shakes her head slowly. Then I belatedly realize I’m not included in her future. I lean back in the chair. “Right. I see.”
Of course, a woman as beautiful, lovely, smart, and talented as Cateline would have a plan for her life, never mind a line of suitors waiting for her. It wasn’t only Gaston who eyed her and seemed pleased by her return. Countless men kissed her on each cheek and seemed to glow in her presence.
I’m so foolish. By falling for her, I broke my own personal playbook rules.
Never get serious.
Never get involved.
Never let things go past a first date.
I was ready to give her the world and all the stars in the sky. But I’m just a poor kid from a cabin. A caveman. Single by choice. A lone wolf.
Who am I kidding? I’m not someone a woman like Cateline would want—not that I can fathom what she could see in a guy like Gaston either. But I do understand her drive for success and her career.
I’m probably better off forgetting about her and focusing on mine.
34
CONNOR
Cateline tents her head in her hands. “I just need to think. How can I fix this? What am I going to do?” The questions seem less aimed toward me and more like she’s seeking solitary answers.
My thoughts repeatedly lead me to dark places. For once, I want to talk. “Was everything that happened these last four weeks part of the program? Part of my lessons, because if so, what did I do wrong? I thought that we—” My body weighs as much as granite under a riverbed.
“It’s like we’ve been running a race. Only, I’ve been running from myself. I’ve hardly had a moment to catch my breath after getting swept up in all of this,” she gestures between us, “and after the stay at the hospital.”
The stone in my chest cracks and splinters. This is the end. This is what it feels like to lose. We remain in the car, if for no other reason than we don’t have to face anyone else.
The garden lights remain on and the damp night air makes everything sparkly, full of potential, rather than the mess it’s become.
In another life, Cateline may have been my princess—my polite, strong-willed, ballerina princess with a kick-butt ability to prank, and an inner strength and endurance that rivals my own. We’re a perfect match.
She didn’t choose someone else. She’s chosen something else, her career. I think about the team and the game, knowing that when I return to the field, I won’t be the same.
Cateline’s voice comes to me as though from far away. “When I was a little girl, I would sit by the window in my room, listening to the tinkling water in the river. I’d gaze up at the stars, wondering what else was out there. Wishing to find a way out. When I was in my old bedroom earlier, I found a letter.” She waves it in the air.
It’s probably a love letter from Gaston, expressing his true love—words I hadn’t been able to find quickly enough. Good thing, too, because I would’ve just embarrassed myself.
“I wrote it from my past self to my future self. A letter written so that if I ever returned, I would remember why I’d left.”
“Clever.” My voice is flatter than I mean. I can’t stay mad at Cat, but this does nothing to help me stitch up my heart. My entire body is heavy, dull, and completely emptied of everything except for disappointment.
“When I arrived in London, I had nothing except a different letter, acknowledging my enrollment in university. Then, when I graduated, I went to Concordia. After years of barely getting by as I made my way through my studies, I had next to nothing. Less than I’d left France with. I’d sold everything but my ballet slippers, tights, leotard, and tutu. I knew if I failed, I’d have something to turn back to.” She gazes straight ahead through the windshield, hardly blinking, as though looking at her past and future simultaneously.
That’s it. She’s returning to her old life and there’s no room for me in it. Can I blame her? How many women had wantedmore from me and I ghosted, not even bothering to return calls or messages?
Cat’s voice floats back. “I was alone and scared. I didn’t know what was next. I feel the same way now. If I hadn’t gotten the degree and the job at Blancbourg, what would that have meant for my future?”
Another car pulls out of the driveway, illuminating her face. Tears fill her eyes.
My reflection in the rearview mirror reveals a deep cleft between my brows.
