I put a twist of disdain into the last word, light the match and watch it land.
“We have parks—”
“It’s not the same and you know it.”
Rowan’s eyes are welling and I can’t stand it. Can’t stand looking at the hurt in her face and knowing I’ve put it there.
“It’s been fun, but it’s time we were realistic about this. Let’s not make it into anything more than what it is.”
“And what is that?”
I force myself to look away, and my eyes catch on the photo framed on the dresser: my Ma and Da, arms wrapped around each other. Her in a beanie, his smile wider than I’ve ever seen.
I should have learned this lesson long ago.
Love never brings anyone anything but pain.
“Nothing.”
“Oh, fuck you, Angus. God, I can’t believe I’m so stupid. I can’t believe I thought—” Rowan whirls on me, fire in her eyes. “You want to know the plan? There is no plan. I have precisely zero plans – not for tomorrow, not for next week, for the rest of my life, and certainly not one that includes you, given that we’ve only known each other for six fucking days!”
She’s angry now. Good. That is good. Anger, I can handle. Anger, I understood.
“Then why are you still here?”
Rowan stills. Everything about her goes quiet. Hard.
“I have no idea.”
And without another word, she leaves.
For a second, I have the urge to run after, sprint down the stairs and take her in my arms. Apologise for what I’ve said. Beg her to stay.
What’s the point? Sooner or later, she’ll leave anyway. At least this way, I’m not breaking when she does.
But in the silence of her absence, I can hear my heart beating a million miles a minute in my chest.
And instead of relief, all I feel is a hollow ache.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Rowan
I throw the last dress in the bag and close the zip. I’m breathing hard, as if I’ve run the two hundred metre Olympic sprint – and still come last place.
Fuck Angus.
Fuck him for his beautiful face and his fucking magical tongue. Fuck him for seeming like the biggest grump and then turning out to be the sweetest man. Fuck him for holding me with such tenderness I thought I could cry. And fuck him most of all for making me hope – and then taking it away.
I’m angry. Fuming.
How dare he point out everything I already know? Of course we aren’t going to work. Of course it’s doomed. Strong, capable, stubborn, beautiful people like Angus don’t end up with failures like me. I’ve always known that to be true. And besides, we live at other ends of the country. Want different things.
He likes hiking, for god’s sake. And I…
I don’t know what I like. What I want. He asks for a plan: I have no plan. The future stretches ahead of me like a vast grey gulf, and I’m feeling my way into it one step at a time.
I’m not cut out to be with anyone. Sophie was right: everything I touch, I ruin. Selfish. Useless. Failure.
