The Ending I Want
Page 88
And that’s why I can’t stay a moment longer.
I turn my eyes from him, yank open the door, and run.
I run through his apartment and out the front door, and I don’t look back.
Reaching the elevator, out of breath, tears mixed in with rainwater streaming down my face, I hit the call elevator button. The door opens immediately.
I fall inside, and I press the button for the lobby.
The door closes, and the elevator starts to descend.
I lean against the wall.
Coldplay’s “Paradise” is playing in the elevator. Some might call it a coincidence. But, to me, it’s a sign from above.
They’re calling for me.
I shut my eyes and rest my head back, exhaling out. “I’m coming,” I tell them.
My time with Liam is over.
It’s time to go home.
I’m sitting on a chair in the middle of my roof terrace.
The place is still lit up like a Christmas tree. The champagne is still sitting in the cooler by the table. The plates and silverware are still in place on the table. The dinner I cooked last night is still on the counter in the kitchen.
Everything is the same as it was last night.
Except she isn’t here.
I’m alone.
And I’m a good halfway through a fifth of whiskey, which I’ve been drinking straight from the bottle, ’cause that’s how I roll nowadays. I’m just missing the brown paper bag around it.
Also, I’m staring at Squishy and Ducky, who I brought out from the bedroom where Taylor had left them on the nightstand on her side of the bed—she had a side of the bed—and I have set them on the floor in front of me, so I can stare at them and torture myself with thinking about Taylor while getting drunk and listening to Daniel Bedingfield on repeat. It’s still playing from last night. I never turned it off.
After Taylor ran out of here and I picked my heart up off the floor, I realized that she’d left her bag. I panicked, knowing that she was out in the city with no money and phone. Her hotel was a good thirty-minute walk from my place.
I could have gone after her, but I was sure she wouldn’t want to see me, so I called Paul and had him drive around and look for her.
He found her soaked through and walking in the direction of the hotel.
He got her in the car and drove her the rest of the way. That’s what I’d told him to do.
I’d already called ahead to the hotel to make sure they had a new key card ready for her, as that was in her bag, too.
Paul saw her up to the hotel room and made sure she got in safe.
Then, I had him come back here, get her bag, and take it to her.
I wanted to hold on to it, so she would have to come back. But I knew it wouldn’t be right because that wasn’t the reason I wanted her to come back.
I want her to come…for me.
But she hasn’t.
I haven’t heard anything from her since last night. And, now, it’s today. The night is starting to come in, and I don’t know what the fuck to do.
I’ve just alternated between wandering around my apartment to lying in bed and smelling the pillow because it smells of her.
Yeah, I’ve turned into that guy.
So, now, I’m sitting here like a fucking loser, well on my way to getting drunk, listening to the same sad song because it makes me think of her, and I’m wondering what she’s doing right now.
Yeah, I’m wallowing. Fucking sue me.
I do know Taylor is still at the hotel, as I told them to call me if she checked out. Or anytime she left at all.
Stalker-ish, I know, but I don’t fucking care.
God, how did I fuck up so monumentally?
I asked her to stay.
She said no.
So, I told her that I loved her. And, like the cocky bastard I am, I said that I knew she loved me, too.
Then, she told me that she didn’t love me, and she ran out of here like her arse was on fire.
I laugh out loud at myself. Then, I choke on that laughter ’cause it feels like I might cry. So, I take another slug of whiskey to wash it away.
What a fucking idiot.
Why didn’t I just keep my mouth shut?
I was so fucking sure of myself.
Of course, there was a part of me that was worried she’d say no. But I was so sure that she felt the same as I did about her, so either way, we’d work something out. That I wouldn’t lose her completely.
How very fucking wrong I was.
I pushed hard, and she ran.
And, now, I don’t know what to do.
I just want her to come back. I want to be near her all the time. Have fun with her. I’ve never laughed as much as I have in the time that I’ve spent with her.
She lights everything up around her.
She lights me up.
And, now, everything just feels dark.
I put the bottle down on the floor, and then I get up and walk over to the railing. I look out at London. Staring at the city moving beneath me.
She’s out there without me.
And, more than anything, I just want her here with me.
I shouldn’t have asked her to stay. It was stupid.
And, now, the small amount of time I have with her is gone because I scared her away.
Who could blame her? A week and a half together, and I’m asking her to live here with me. Not go back to her home. To stay and live in mine.
And she’s only twenty-two. I forget that sometimes. When I’m with her, the ten years between us seems to evaporate.
When I was twenty-two…well, I was with Kate. But I was setting up my business and seeing the world while I did it.
I was living.
That’s what she came here to do. And I tried to clip her wings by asking her to stay with me.
What the fuck was I thinking?
I turn my eyes from him, yank open the door, and run.
I run through his apartment and out the front door, and I don’t look back.
Reaching the elevator, out of breath, tears mixed in with rainwater streaming down my face, I hit the call elevator button. The door opens immediately.
I fall inside, and I press the button for the lobby.
The door closes, and the elevator starts to descend.
I lean against the wall.
Coldplay’s “Paradise” is playing in the elevator. Some might call it a coincidence. But, to me, it’s a sign from above.
They’re calling for me.
I shut my eyes and rest my head back, exhaling out. “I’m coming,” I tell them.
My time with Liam is over.
It’s time to go home.
I’m sitting on a chair in the middle of my roof terrace.
The place is still lit up like a Christmas tree. The champagne is still sitting in the cooler by the table. The plates and silverware are still in place on the table. The dinner I cooked last night is still on the counter in the kitchen.
Everything is the same as it was last night.
Except she isn’t here.
I’m alone.
And I’m a good halfway through a fifth of whiskey, which I’ve been drinking straight from the bottle, ’cause that’s how I roll nowadays. I’m just missing the brown paper bag around it.
Also, I’m staring at Squishy and Ducky, who I brought out from the bedroom where Taylor had left them on the nightstand on her side of the bed—she had a side of the bed—and I have set them on the floor in front of me, so I can stare at them and torture myself with thinking about Taylor while getting drunk and listening to Daniel Bedingfield on repeat. It’s still playing from last night. I never turned it off.
After Taylor ran out of here and I picked my heart up off the floor, I realized that she’d left her bag. I panicked, knowing that she was out in the city with no money and phone. Her hotel was a good thirty-minute walk from my place.
I could have gone after her, but I was sure she wouldn’t want to see me, so I called Paul and had him drive around and look for her.
He found her soaked through and walking in the direction of the hotel.
He got her in the car and drove her the rest of the way. That’s what I’d told him to do.
I’d already called ahead to the hotel to make sure they had a new key card ready for her, as that was in her bag, too.
Paul saw her up to the hotel room and made sure she got in safe.
Then, I had him come back here, get her bag, and take it to her.
I wanted to hold on to it, so she would have to come back. But I knew it wouldn’t be right because that wasn’t the reason I wanted her to come back.
I want her to come…for me.
But she hasn’t.
I haven’t heard anything from her since last night. And, now, it’s today. The night is starting to come in, and I don’t know what the fuck to do.
I’ve just alternated between wandering around my apartment to lying in bed and smelling the pillow because it smells of her.
Yeah, I’ve turned into that guy.
So, now, I’m sitting here like a fucking loser, well on my way to getting drunk, listening to the same sad song because it makes me think of her, and I’m wondering what she’s doing right now.
Yeah, I’m wallowing. Fucking sue me.
I do know Taylor is still at the hotel, as I told them to call me if she checked out. Or anytime she left at all.
Stalker-ish, I know, but I don’t fucking care.
God, how did I fuck up so monumentally?
I asked her to stay.
She said no.
So, I told her that I loved her. And, like the cocky bastard I am, I said that I knew she loved me, too.
Then, she told me that she didn’t love me, and she ran out of here like her arse was on fire.
I laugh out loud at myself. Then, I choke on that laughter ’cause it feels like I might cry. So, I take another slug of whiskey to wash it away.
What a fucking idiot.
Why didn’t I just keep my mouth shut?
I was so fucking sure of myself.
Of course, there was a part of me that was worried she’d say no. But I was so sure that she felt the same as I did about her, so either way, we’d work something out. That I wouldn’t lose her completely.
How very fucking wrong I was.
I pushed hard, and she ran.
And, now, I don’t know what to do.
I just want her to come back. I want to be near her all the time. Have fun with her. I’ve never laughed as much as I have in the time that I’ve spent with her.
She lights everything up around her.
She lights me up.
And, now, everything just feels dark.
I put the bottle down on the floor, and then I get up and walk over to the railing. I look out at London. Staring at the city moving beneath me.
She’s out there without me.
And, more than anything, I just want her here with me.
I shouldn’t have asked her to stay. It was stupid.
And, now, the small amount of time I have with her is gone because I scared her away.
Who could blame her? A week and a half together, and I’m asking her to live here with me. Not go back to her home. To stay and live in mine.
And she’s only twenty-two. I forget that sometimes. When I’m with her, the ten years between us seems to evaporate.
When I was twenty-two…well, I was with Kate. But I was setting up my business and seeing the world while I did it.
I was living.
That’s what she came here to do. And I tried to clip her wings by asking her to stay with me.
What the fuck was I thinking?
