Aw shit. He had to keep going now. “Your brother paid me a visit.”
Her head snapped around. “What? When?”
“Last week.”
“Last week... when?”
“The day we went to my grandfather’s.”
Her gaze flickered, and her skin paled. “Oh God. The day you suddenly decided we needed to talk? Is that why... is that what this has been? You and me, this week? The sweetness, the talking, the fucking? Was this all out of, what? Pity?”
He came to his knees, uncaring of his nudity. “No, no.”
She laughed half-hysterically. “We talked abouthate-fucks and guilt-fucks, but I suppose I should have brought up pity-fucks.”
“That’s not it. Damn it, Livvy.”
Fury joined horror in her expression. Beyond listening, she grabbed her shoes from where she’d kicked them off. “That’s what all the questions were about. Was Ipunishingmyself for having sex with you? Because I was so heartbroken, I couldn’t stay away from you, right?”
“That’s not—”
“Yes. I was depressed after you broke things off with me, is that what you want to hear?” The tears trembling on her lashes broke something apart inside him. “I fell into the deepest, scariest pit of depression, so much I never thought I’d crawl my way out. I did want to die.” She didn’t bother to tie her sandals properly, simply wrapping the strings around her ankles in a large knot. “That first time I texted you, that first birthday, I felt so pathetic and lonely. After you left, I cried for days. But then the next year, I cried less. And even less the following. I built myself back up. And tonight? I’m not going to cry at all. So take your pity and go fuck yourself with it.”
He scrambled out of bed, panic driving him. Wait, she couldn’t leave. Where were his pants? He had to stop her. “Livvy, wait. You’ve misunderstood everything. It wasn’t pity. It was never pity.”
She stalked to the door and glanced over her shoulder. “Then what was it?”
Love.He opened his mouth, the answer there, on the tip of his tongue.
Say it.
The seconds ticked by as he struggled to do it, to strip that final protective layer off his heart. Cold moved through him, freezing all animation, the wind-up man going still.
Finally, she shook her head. Tears shimmered in her eyes, but they didn’t fall. “Actually, I think I finally understand everything.” The look she cast him was inscrutable and cool. “I think we’re done now, Nicholas. I’m going to do my damnedest to forget your number. Don’t ever text me again.”
Chapter 18
LIVVY’D LIED.She cried all the way home.
With grim determination, she took ten minutes in her mother’s driveway blowing her nose and using the tiny tube of concealer in her purse to cover the puffiness under her eyes. It was late, but it was entirely possible her aunt may still be awake.
She would not let anyone see what a mess she was inside.
Like an object of pity.
Don’t think about it. Get upstairs, get to your room, and then you can fall apart.
When she entered the house and heard the murmur of a late-night talk show, Livvy was glad she’d taken the time to tidy up. She crept to the stairs, wincing over every creak. She was almost to the first step when her aunt’s low voice came from the living room. “Livvy?”
She hastily ran her fingers through her hair, then walked to the arched opening, tugging on her wrinkled dress. Her aunt sat in her usual chair, her usual knitting in her hands. The only light in the room came from a small Tiffany lamp next to herchair and the T.V. Livvy stuck to the shadows right inside the door. “Hey, Aunt Maile.” She was proud her voice wasn’t tear-fogged and hoarse.
“You’re home late.” Maile looked at her, and her ready smile faded. She put down her knitting. “Are you okay?”
Livvy nodded, trying to control her lower lip. “Y-yes.”
“Come here.”
“I should go to bed.”
