Stopping when I reach Sydney’s four-story apartment building, I lean back against the wall across the road and look up at the roof. I wonder if she’s home or if she’s out with that pretentious prick. Rubbing a hand across the tightness in my chest, I angle my head back and stare at the terrace that wraps around Sydney’s penthouse. My heart does a funny little jump when I spot faint light on the furthermost terrace and clock the shadowy figure leaning against the railing, staring out at the city below.
Her long golden hair blows in the breeze, and I wish I could see her face to know what she’s thinking. Her posture is relaxed but rigidly so. I wonder if she’s been obsessively thinking of me, the way I’ve been obsessively thinking of her, since our unplanned reunion yesterday.
As if I called out to her, she turns her head in my direction, and my breath stutters in my chest. I stare up at her, and she stares back at me, and my heart thumps wildly within the confines of my chest cavity. I can’t read her face in the dark and from this far away, but I’m hoping she realizes it’s me. I remove my ball cap in case I look like some creepy stalker and keep my gaze trained on her.
How did we get to this place where we’re virtual strangers?
Although I am still angry at her for what she did, sadness and regret are the two most overriding emotions I’ve been feeling these past two days. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. We weren’t supposed to live apart.
Hurt flays me from the inside when Sydney disappears from the terrace. I drop my head and shove my hands in the pockets of my jeans, willing the anxiety pressing down on my chest to disappear. I draw exaggerated breaths, in and out, in an attempt to get my shit together. What the fuck is happening to me?
“Jared.” Sydney’s distinctive tone tickles my eardrums, and I raise my head. She is standing at the entrance to the apartment building, leaning against the doorway with her hands clasped in front of her. She jerks her head and steps sideways, holding the door open in invitation.
Gulping back nerves, I stride across the road and bound up the few steps until we’re face-to-face. Her features are illuminated under the soft beams of the overhead light, and she’s not shielding anything from me. Pain mixes with anger, fear, regret, and longing, and I can relate. I have felt every combination of those emotions in recent days.
“You were right,” she says in a croaky tone of voice. “We need to talk. I need closure too.”
* * *
“I love your apartment,” I say as I follow Sydney out through the double doors and onto the main terrace. Those are the first words spoken between us since the doorway downstairs. Tension was thick as we walked up the three levels to the penthouse. I had taken the opportunity to drink all of her in. Wearing a long, floaty, white, sleeveless dress, she is like some ethereal being. Innocent yet worldly-wise. Beguiling and guarded. Stunningly beautiful but completely off limits. Her gorgeous hair hangs in soft waves down her back, begging to be touched. Slender fingers brushed against the banisters as we walked, and I never thought I’d be jealous of a piece of wood, but I was.
“I’m only renting, but it’s the first place that has properly felt like a home.” Her words yank me from my head, and I focus on the here and now. Sydney gestures for me to take a seat on the L-shaped gray wicker couch as she sits in front of the matching glass-topped coffee table and sets an empty wineglass down beside her half-filled one.
Claiming the seat beside her, I ensure to leave adequate space between us so I’m not crowding her. My butt sinks into the soft, gray-patterned, padded cushion as I admire the outdoor area. Sydney has potted plants and flowers dotted all over the tiled floor, interspersed with candles and stone ornaments. A gray wrought-iron table and four matching chairs reside on the other side, situated perfectly to admire the stunning view over the river below and the sprawling city beyond. The dome and bell tower are visible in the distance, and I wish I didn’t have to leave tomorrow so I could spend some time exploring.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” she asks, lifting the bottle of Sancerre from the silver cooler.
Piercing emerald eyes pin me in place. Flawless sun-kissed skin, full lips, high cheekbones, and a heart-shaped face complete her stunning features, and she is truly mesmerizing. She doesn’t have a scrap of makeup on, and she is exquisite. Stunning beyond belief. I was completely gone for her as a kid. In awe of her vibrant personality, her clear ambition, and her good looks, but it is nothing compared to the woman sitting beside me now. I have no words to describe how utterly compelling and completely gorgeous she is.
“Jared?” she asks again, and I realize I’ve just been staring at her like a creeper.
I shake my head, declining her offer. I usually only drink wine if I’m out for dinner, and I’d rather keep my wits about me tonight.
“Please join me. Otherwise, I’m liable to drink the entire bottle myself, and I’d really rather not.”
Her words contain hidden meaning, and I arch a brow in silent question.
Her expression turns forlorn. “Alcohol and I have a checkered past.” Sadness coats her tone and her pretty features.
“I’ll take a glass.”
Relief smooths out her face as she pours me a healthy glass and hands it to me. Our fingers brush in the exchange, sending fiery tingles shooting up my arm. She yanks her hand back like I just electrocuted her.
“What did you mean? About alcohol.” She can’t be implying what I think she is because it wouldn’t make sense.
Bitter laughter bursts from her full lips. “You have no idea who I am anymore, Jared. If you did, you’d realize you had a lucky escape.”
She looks so fucking sad, and it guts me. Sydney was always full of life and so determined. She let nothing stand in the way of her goals, and she wasn’t one to put herself down either. I hate hearing the defeat and self-loathing in her tone. I equally hate the thought I might be someway responsible for it, even if I am still totally in the dark. “I would never think that. I probably should, but it’s not how I feel inside. If you’ve listened to any of my songs, you should know that.”
“I try not to. It’s too painful,” she says, before taking a sip of her wine.
Time to rip the Band-Aid off. There is no point in pussyfooting around the subject. I drink a mouthful of the crisp white wine before asking, “What happened to us, Syd? Why did you give up on me?”
She whips her gaze to mine, eyes blazing. “Why didyou?”
I lean forward, peering deep into her eyes. “I didn’t, Syd. I didn’t give up on you. Not until it was clear you had given up on me.”
“You stopped communicating with me after a week.One freaking week, Jared! You totally ghosted me after that.” Pain skitters across her face as she lifts her wineglass to her lips.
