I gentle my voice. “Look at me.” She doesn’t. “Olivia, what we were—what wearewhen I touch you— That isn’t a con. I didn’t pick you to use you. I didn’t set out to hurt you. I tried to stay away. I did. But I couldn’t. That’s the truth.”
She turns halfway, eyes bright and hard. “Then tell me the truth. Say the words.”
I hold her gaze and take the hit, knowing exactly what it’s going to cost me: it’s going to cost me her.
“I can’t talk about that.” The words taste like metal. “Not because I don’t respect you. Because if I open that door, I can’t close it again, and I won’t put you in the middle of things you can’t unlearn.”
Her laugh scrapes. “I’m already there. You already put me there.”
I drop my hands to my sides. “Olivia—”
“What now?” she interrupts. “Are you… Can I walk out of here?”
“I would never hurt you,” I say gently. I open my hands and take a step back so she can see I mean it. “You’re not a prisoner here. You can walk out whenever you want.”
Her throat works. She doesn’t move.
“But I wish you wouldn’t,” I add, softer. “I wish you would talk to me instead.”
“About what?” she says. The fight has gone out of her, and she’s just left with sadness in her eyes. It tears at me.
“There’s nothing to talk about, is there? You lied to me every single time you opened your mouth, and I was stupid enough to believe you.”
“Stop.” I lift a hand, wanting to touch her, and drop it. “You were never stupid. I wanted something that could never be, and I let myself believe I could have it. I was the stupid one.”
“Tell me something true,” she says.
“Olivi—”
“Anything,” she says. “Just one true thing.”
I look her in the eyes for a long moment, wanting to say the words. The three words I’ve only ever said to one other woman.
“You’re right,” I finally say. “It would be best if you left.”
Her expression shatters, and it breaks my heart, but I have to stay strong.
Without another word, she hitches her bag onto her shoulder, turns, and marches out.
When the door slams behind her, I turn and kick one of the chairs at the table, and it flies across the room, splintering against the wall.
“I was dead, and you brought me back to life.”
Chapter Thirty Three
Olivia
I email the team at 7:00 and say I’m working from home today. I shouldn’t. There’s too much to shepherd after opening weekend, too many eyes that expect me to be the one moving the pieces.
But I can’t walk in there and pretend my world didn’t fall apart last night.
I’m not ready to see Caterina. I’m not ready to see anyone who might ask how my night was. I’m not ready to lie.
I make coffee, take a sip, set it down. It goes cold on the counter while I stare at the screen and don’t type.
I keep replaying the fight. The way his voice went soft when he said he’d never hurt me. The way mine broke when I said he’d lied. The look on his face right before I walked out. I can feel the door slam in my bones like it’s still happening.
This is what the end feels like. Not dramatic. Just heavy. A dead weight in my chest that I can’t move.
