run away, as he put it. I can leave this hotel room and try to put together some semblance of a life without him.
The bitch of it is that I still love him. I will always be hopelessly, crazy in love with him.
I look deeply into his eyes, which are already starting to haze over with the extra infusion of alcohol. It makes the decision easier, but no less painful.
“Goodbye, Chris. I really hope that you manage to find whatever it is that you’re looking for. Because I’m not it.”
“Hallie, stop. Stop.”
His face crumples and I almost break down right there and then. But I’m already turning away. I can’t let this drag out any longer. I can’t stay here.
“Hals, you still love me. I know you do. You can’t just throw this away. Please. Don’t do this. You know you’re going to regret this in the morning. I’ll even go get those bagels from that place in Notting Hill. We’ll call it apology lox. We’re going back to the States tomorrow and you can go dancing with Sam and everything will be fine.”
I turn back to him and force myself to meet his eyes. I pray that he’s drunk enough to believe the lie that I’m about to tell.
“I don’t love you.”
It costs me more than I can bear to say it.
“What?”
It’s easier to say it this time, because he’s already turned away from me. I don’t have to lie with my face, only my words.
“I don’t love you.”
His body shakes slightly. It would be imperceptible to almost anyone else, but I’ve spent the past two years of my life memorizing every movement of his muscles. He’s hurting, and every impulse that I have is telling me to throw myself into his arms and try to forget that this whole night even happened. There’s a good chance he won’t remember anyway. I’m halfway across the room when he turns back to me, his face contorted into a rueful little grin.
“What a sick little game you’ve been playing, Hallie.”
“I didn’t mean to…”
“Save it. I never want to see you again. Don’t call. Don’t write.”
“Chris.”
“Don’t say my name. Because I can promise you that in a few days, I won’t remember yours. I’m planning to forget that you ever existed.”
I pick up my suitcase and force my legs, which have turned into stone, to move.
“Take care of yourself. Please.”
With that, I shut the door between us.
I manage to make it to the elevator before I shatter.
Chapter 20
CHRIS
5 Years Later
Chicago
I’ve had five years to think about the things that we said to each other in that hotel room. I’m no closer to figuring out what I could have done differently, other than not letting alcohol and fame turn me into a total jackass. But it was already too late for that by the time we got to London.
The old maxim is that time heals all wounds, but this particular wound has stayed fresh. It doesn’t help that I pick at the edges every once in a while. I guess some small part of me is still hoping that I can conjure up an alternate version of events, some reality in which she doesn’t utter those words: “I don’t love you.”
The sun is starting to dawn over the horizon, but it doesn’t feel like a new day. It feels like the same old shit.
I clench my hand into a fist and punch the wall in my hotel suite.
Nothing is resolved. My apology, five years too late, hadn’t magically rewritten history.
Pull it together, Jensen.
I bury my head in my hands before standing up and pacing back and forth. I’ve given her enough time to think. I can’t keep doing this again and again. There’s only one way to fix this, and it doesn’t involve pouting. I grab my jacket, because I fully intend to pound on her door until she answers. There has to be something to say. Anything to say.
I’m halfway to the door when I hear a voice and the click of a lock.
“Jensen!”
The sight of Marcus standing in the middle of the room enrages me. I take the opportunity to use some of the less popular swear words. Even he looks impressed.
“Are you finished, Jensen?”
“How the hell did you get a key?”
“You’re not the only one that can be persuasive.”
He’s smiling a bit too brightly, which means that he’s lying. He must be here to see if I had been drinking. I’m some kind of drunk, but it’s from the lack