Page 70 of Chasing Clouds

It makes no sense to me, and my heart rate increases with anxiety and disbelief. We talked about Clare at least once a day, and Camille told me she was at the wedding. I know she’s spoken to her based on conversations we’ve had, and I once heard her talking to her on the phone from another room.

Didn’t I?

Stepping back, I scrub my hand over my face, pushing the water away. I suddenly no longer feel like I have the upper hand, and this leaves me uncertain of everything. I feel wet, and I feel confused, but taking a moment to think back to other comments she’s made, I can see how this is a possibility.

Fuck. This entire situation is so messed up.

I look back at Patrick and our eyes lock. His face is blank, and I don’t know what he’s thinking, but he’s watching me closely.

Moving away, I start pacing back and forth. The rain is steady enough that my clothes are now soaked through, but I barely feel them.

Was it all a lie? It couldn’t have been.

But, if she didn’t tell me about this, what else didn’t she tell me? I didn’t keep anything from her. I was up front from the beginning, about everything, and I allowed myself to trust her.

I let her in.

Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply and allow the sadness and embarrassment to wash over me. I fell for this girl hook, line, and sinker, and I have no one to blame but myself. How I’m feeling right now—this is my fault. I let this happen to me. I should have known it was too good to be true.

Patrick clears his throat and I glance up at him. It’s kind of poetic that she sent him here to be her henchman; these people have no heart. He’s done standing here, and so am I. I’m done with all of it. This was never supposed to last anyway.

I mean, really, what was I thinking? I’d save the princess and we’d ride off into the sunset together? That’s not real life; this is—people lying and people leaving.

Walking back over, I rip the folder from Patrick’s hand and bend over to keep everything dry. A pen slides out along with two sets of the same papers. Flipping through each one, I see she’s already signed them, so I do the same. With each swipe of the pen, cracks rupture my heart. Just as quickly as we started, we’ve now ended. Dropping the pen on the ground, I hand him his set and keep mine along with the folder. Knowing her family has connections, I’m certain this will be expedited, which means I’m officially divorced.

Divorced.

“You know, I almost feel bad for you—almost,” he says with victory in his eyes. “But then I remember you actually thought a girl like her was going to end up with someone like you.”

He starts laughing as if I’m suddenly the idiot, and I swear the sound is amplified by the rain. Here and now, I officially concede and think to myself, You win, asshole.

Turning around, I grab my bag and effectively remove him from my line of sight. I hope to never ever see him again, and I place one foot in front of the other to keep myself moving forward as my heart bleeds out into my chest. Every emotion is slamming into me, and I can’t grasp any single one long enough to ride it out. I’m bombarded and overwhelmed, pissed off and dumbfounded. Someone please tell me—how did I get here?

From the very first moment I pulled up to her parents’ wrought iron gate, I knew they were not my kind of people. I should have walked away—why didn’t I walk away? Two months of lies. Two months of manipulation, perfectly executed by a privileged upbringing. Two months easily dismissed with the ultimate rejection.

My fingers grip the damp folder, wrinkling it as thunder rolls through the sky.

Thank God I didn’t ask for longer.

Spotting my car one row over, I quickly slip between two vehicles and walk out into the row. Tilting my head up, I pause to let the water run down my face. It’s warm and cool; it’s soft and it stings. I want it to rinse away the evidence of my damaged heart. I need it to absolve me of the shame I feel inside. Just ten minutes ago I was ready to give her my all, but all along she’s known it was never going to be me.

Needing to get home, I open my eyes and my head snaps to the bright lights that flip on directly to my right. They flicker through the gray rain and fear races down my spine at the sudden onslaught of sliding tires desperately trying to grip the wet ground. I lurch forward, determined to move out of the way.

One breath.

Two.

Everything happens so fast.

Everything explodes with pain.

Everything goes black.

I MISS REID.

It’s crazy how I went from not knowing him at all two months ago to now feeling like part of me is missing. I know this is for the best, know he had a life to get back to, but still, I wish I were more a part of it than I am. I wish he wanted me to be.

I want to say life sucks, but I know in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t. Despite not being on speaking terms with my father—which, quite frankly, I don’t see as a negative—things have transitioned pretty smoothly, and it makes me regret losing years of my life. I should have put my foot down sooner. I never should have let them guilt me, and I never should have let them steamroll me into a life that wasn’t meant for me. I wish they’d understand, but they don’t.