Vivian forced herself to look at Bryn. At the damage she’d done. This happened every time she tried. Tears and disappointment and so many beautiful things broken. She wanted her time with Bryn to exist like a moment trapped in amber. Perfect and untouchable. Suspended forever, its tenderness preserved. Safe from the wear of time. But she’d failed at that too.
“This isn’t how I intended for this to go,” Vivian admitted uselessly.
“Why did I make you feel like you couldn’t talk to me?” The pain in Bryn’s eyes was crushing, but Vivian forced herself not to look away. She had to look. To remember this the next time she was delusional enough to think she could have anything good.
“It’s not like that?—”
“Then tell me what it’s like,” Bryn begged. “If all you wanted was to sleep with me?—”
“It’s not all I wanted.” Vivian moved closer, nauseated that she’d made Bryn feel like an object. “But when I realized it was all I had to offer… it was too late.” Her eyes burned with the truth. She didn’t deserve Bryn’s gentle touch when she dried her tears, but she took it like the weak, greedy monster she was.
“Do you really believe that?” Bryn asked gently, thumb still rubbing Vivian’s cheek without the excuse of a task. “You really believe that sex is all you have to give?”
The question, like everything about Bryn, was so earnest. So real. Vivian couldn’t deflect it. Couldn’t deny it. All she had was a miserable little shrug. Of course that’s all she was. A body. A prize.
“Vivian.” Bryn cradled her face in both hands and forced her to look her in the eye when she said, “I like you so much.”
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why?” Vivian covered Bryn’s hands with hers and brought them down to her lap. “I’m not right for you, Bryn.” The truth was a nauseating lash that burned the back of Vivian’s throat along with the intense desire to vomit. “And I wish that wasn’t the case, because you are truly singular. But you’re on your way up and I’m only heading down. We might be meeting in the middle right now, but we’re on completely different trajectories. I amnotgoing to hold you back.”
“Don’t I get a say in this? Why do you get to decide unilaterally what happens between us?”
Bryn’s face was so flushed and she’d wiped away so much makeup that her freckles were breaking through. Vivian would take that with her too. Would keep it as an omen that no matter what fame had in store for Bryn, she’d always know herself. Always be herself.
“There’s so much you don’t understand yet?—”
“Don’t infantilize me, Vivian. You’ve never done that before and you’re not going to start now.”
“I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.” Vivian closed her burning eyes and started again. “But I have a lot more experience than you in work, in life. Trust me, I know this hurts now, but it’s for the best.”
“Best for who?” Bryn asked in a voice so small, so broken, Vivian would never forget it. “Because this isn’t what I want.” She didn’t slow down even as the tears sped up. “You’re scared, and believe me, I understand that. I’m not afraid but I haven’t been through half of what you have. I see you, Vivian. I do,” she said with a conviction that Vivian believed. “And what I see is a terrified person running away from what scares her most. From the prospect of opening yourself up to something real because you think you don’t deserve it.” Bryn shook her head and Vivian knew with revolting certainty that Bryn had resigned herself to the end. “But don’t lie to me, and more importantly, don’t lie to yourself. You’re not protecting me, Vivian. You’re protecting yourself.”
Bryn stood and Vivian wanted to stand too. To stop her before she made it to the door. To admit that she was fucking terrified, but a small, stupid part of her wanted to try even when everything about them spelled disaster on paper.
But she couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything but watch the best thing that ever happened to her walk away at her behest.
ChapterThirty
Home had always beenVivian’s fortress, but three days after having left New York, it was feeling more like a cage. Baskets and cards and flowers arrived congratulating her, but Vivian only looked at them long enough to note that Yenni Montoya’s was the largest.
Everything made her think of Bryn, made her wonder what Bryn thought when the same gift had probably landed on her doorstep. She smiled when she imagined Bryn talking about truffles and caviar with her roommates even as her chest ached with hollow emptiness.
She couldn’t eat. Could barely focus on prepping her next book.
Iris talked to her and Vivian talked back, but she couldn’t remember what about. Every moment was a soundless, gray nothing that led to the next.
“Harvey’s calling again,” Iris said, jarring Vivian out of the daze that befell her while she sat at the kitchen counter.
Vivian looked at her phone.
“Want me to answer?”
Vivian shook her head and slid open her phone. She left it on speaker, not having the energy to pick it up. “Hello.”
“She’s alive!” Harvey chuckled. “I was about to send a team to Miami to check for signs of life. Listen, I’ve sent you a few emails. I’ve got people stepping all over each other to get you and Bryn together again. It’s like everyone woke up at the same time and remembered there were lesbians.” He giggled.Giggled. “Nothing gets the blood flowing faster than an unsaturated market.”
