His eyes flick to the hallway behind me. “Because this isn’t something I want to talk about in the middle of a party,” he says quietly. “I don’t want it hanging over everything you worked so hard to put together.”
I lift a hand, stopping him before he can keep going. “It’s your night, Sebastian. Not mine.”
He drags a hand across the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean for you to hear… all that.”
“But I did.”
He swears under his breath and steps closer again, close enough that I can feel the warmth of him wash over me. My pulse kicks. My ribs tighten. “Liv… I wasn’t lying,” he says softly, “about it being temporary.”
The words sting, but I refuse to let them show on my face. “I figured,” I murmur. “I’m not here to beg for something you can’t give.”
“That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is it?”
Sebastian hesitates, and that hurts almost more than the answer itself. His head drops for a beat, and whe looks at me again, it’s as if something inside him finally snaps. He’s standing close enough that I can see the muscle of his jaw clench, the twitch of restraint in his fingers. But he doesn’t reach for me. Doesn’t close the space. Doesn’t allow himself. And I don’t know whether to be furious or heartbroken.
His voice is wrecked, so low it barely reaches me. “Wanting you wasn’t supposed to happen.”
My lungs collapse.
“But it did. And I can’t switch it off.”
The confession detonates something in my chest. Everything I’ve been trying to hold together tonight splinters. “Then don’t,” I say softly. “Don’t fight it. Don’t pretend this hasn’t been real.”
His flinch is immediate, eyes closing like it physically hurts to hear. “It’s not that simple.”
I step forward, just an inch. “Then make it simple, Sebastian.”
I can already feel the hesitation coming, the weight behind it. “I… can’t.”
That—those two stupid words—stings sharper than I expect. I let out a breathless laugh, though it holds no humour. “Why?” My voice breaks with exhaustion. “Why can’t you? Is it because of Teddy? Because of me? What the hell are we even doing, Sebastian?”
He stares at the floor. Silence stretches so long, I can hear my pulse in my ears.
“You know why.”
“No, I really don’t.” My arms cross tight over my chest, hands digging into my flesh to keep them from shaking. “We’ve had sex, Sebastian. More times than I can count.” I huff out a breath, biting down on the crack in my voice. “We’ve had breakfast. Dinner. I’ve spent more time at your place than I’ve spent with my own family. I know how you take your coffee. I’ve heard you laugh in your sleep. And I’ve watched Teddy countless times while you worked those late night shifts.”
His head lifts. Eyes find mine. And this time, they don’t hide. “I’m not pretending it meant nothing,” he says quietly.
“Then what are you doing?” My voice is soft but tight. “Because it sure as hell feels like you’re trying to rewrite what this has been.”
He exhales slowly. “I can’t give you what you want, Olivia.”
My jaw tightens. “You don’t know what I want.”
“Yes, I do.” His voice rises, fraying at the edges. “You want more. Fuck, youdeservemore, but I don’t know how to give it. I don’t know how to just give myself over to someone anymore.”
My heart lurches.You already have, I want to say.Why can’t you see that?But I swallow the ache pushing up my throat and nod slowly, because it’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart. “Right,” I whisper. “If that’s how you feel, then… I appreciate the honesty.”
He steps forward, just slightly. “Olivia—”
“No.” I cut him off again, firmer this time. “You don’t owe me more than that.” I pause, my jaw clenched, then let out a shaky breath. “I mean, you do. But I’ve heard enough. Loud and clear.” I keep my arms folded tight across my chest like it’ll hold everything in place. “I just needed to hear it to my face. Not through a fucking door.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t say a word. His lips part like there’s more coming, but nothing leaves his mouth. Just silence. Thick and suffocating. “I’ll still pay you for the next couple of weeks,” he says eventually, the words brittle, barely hanging together. “Just so you’re covered.”
A small, disbelieving breath escapes my throat. “Sebastian. Don’t bother.”
