The thought of her lying in bed unable to sleep because of what I’d done made my chest feel like it was caving in.
I got out of the car.
Walked to her building on legs that felt disconnected from my body. The door was locked but someone was leaving and I caught it before it closed, slipping inside before I could talk myself out of this.
Her apartment was on the third floor. I took the stairs two at a time, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might actually give out.
And then I was standing outside her door.
I knocked—gentle at first. “Gianna? Please. I just need to talk to you.”
Nothing.
I knocked harder. “Gianna, I know you’re awake. I can see your light. Please just open the door. Let me explain.”
Still nothing.
I knocked until my knuckles were raw. Until a door opened down the hall and an older man in a bathrobe told me to shut up or he’d call the cops.
“Gianna, please,” I said, ignoring him. “Just let me apologize properly. Let me explain. Please.”
Light showed under her door. I could see her shadow moving inside, hear the floorboards creak. She was right there. Close enough to touch if there wasn’t a door between us.
She never opened it.
I sat in the hallway with my back against her door until three in the morning. Fell asleep there and woke up at dawn with my neck screaming and my suit wrinkled beyond repair. The super found me and told me to leave or he’d have me arrested for trespassing.
I left. What else could I do?
Sam cornered me on the fourth day outside Gianna’s building. I’d been sitting in my car across the street like a stalker, watching her windows for any sign of her. Pathetic didn’t begin to cover it.
He rapped on my window hard enough that I thought he might break it.
I rolled it down. “Is she okay?”
“No.” His voice was cold. “She’s not okay. And you sitting out here like some creep isn’t helping.”
“I just need to talk to her. If she’d just let me explain?—”
“Explain what?” Sam leaned down to look me in the eye. “That you killed her father? That you lied to her from the beginning? What explanation makes that okay, Archer Devlin?”
The use of my full name felt like a slap. Hearing my actual name was a reminder of my sins.
“I love her,” I said, and my voice broke on the words. “I know I don’t deserve her. I know I destroyed any right I had to her. ButI love her and I need her to know that it is real. That’s the only thing that is real.”
“She knows.” Sam straightened up. “And it’s making everything worse. Because loving you means she has to hate herself for it.”
“How long?”
“What?”
“How long until she’ll talk to me? Until she’ll let me apologize properly?” I was begging now, past caring about dignity. “How much space does she need?”
Sam looked at me with something close to pity. “I don’t know. Maybe never. Some things don’t get forgiven, Archer. They get survived. And Gianna’s still trying to figure out how to survive what you did to her.”
“Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?”
“Honestly?” He stepped back from the car. “Probably not. What you did doesn’t just get forgiven. You don’t come back from destroying someone’s entire life and then lying about it. You just don’t.”
