can get past it.”
I want to clap a hand over his mouth. Stop him before he makes any further humiliating concessions that he’ll regret later.
“Percy.”
“But you can’t just throw it all away, Carly. Not like this. Not without giving us a chance. I want this. Our parents want this. All our friends look at us as the golden couple—”
“Yes, but it’s not right for me. Shouldn’t that be part of the equation?”
“Yes, of course, but why isn’t this right for you? Tell me why. Give me something I can understand.”
I flounder, trying to get my words right.
“It’s just that you and I have become more like comfortable old friends in the last year or so. I feel as though we’ve grown in different directions. We share friends, but not the same ideas or interests. There’s no passion or excitement anymore.”
“I’m passionate. I’m excited.”
“I don’t want to spend my life on a country estate doing charity work between having children. I mean, I want children, of course, but when I’m ready. After I’ve figured out my career and done the things I want to do in the world.”
“If you want a career, have a career! I’m not stopping you! What is it that you want to do? You’ve never spoken of it.”
“I want to stay in New York and paint,” I admit. “And I’m not marrying the wrong man just because I’m out of school now and everyone else thinks it’s the right time. I’m sorry, but I’m not.”
He makes a nasty sound. Disbelieving. Derisive. Bitter.
“And I suppose you think Damon Black is the right man? You understand that he has a ruthless reputation in business, don’t you?”
I stiffen.
He chokes back an ugly laugh.
“Of course I looked him up. Did you think I wouldn’t after I saw the sparks between you at the cocktail party? I hope you have. He’s never had a serious relationship. Goes through women the way you or I go through chips.”
This, out of the entire painful conversation, is the very worst part. Because I’ve hurt a good and innocent man on my quest to structure the life I want and need. A life that I think might include Damon. Yet Percy has now drilled down to a hidden fear that I’d rather not acknowledge:
If given half a chance, Damon Black, whom I barely know, may well break my heart.
And I’m about to give him that chance because I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t.
“I don’t know what else to say, Percy,” I say, staring at my hands as I rub them together, refusing to rise to his bait. “Other than you’re a wonderful man. You’ve been a huge part of my life. An amazing part of my life. And I wouldn’t be doing this if I weren’t positive it was the right decision.”
“For you.”
“For both of us. Although I don’t expect you to see that right now.”
“Well, that’s done, then,” he says angrily. “You can’t even look at me?”
I raise my eyes to his. Those familiar hazel eyes are hard. Unforgiving. Profoundly hurt and confused.
And I feel absolutely terrible for doing this to him. But also free. Ebullient.
Because this is not the man for me. He never was.
Just as I am not the woman for him and never could have been.
“I wish you the very best,” I say from my heart.
“Sure you do. You know what? Fuck off. Fuck whoever you like.”
With that, Percy walks out of the room, opening the door with a bang, and out of my life.
I can honestly say it’s one of the worst moments of my life to see the simmering hatred as he goes. I’d hoped we could be friends. But at this moment I’m sure Percy would rather march me to the Tower and see if officials couldn’t rethink the current policy against beheading.
I keep it together until I hear the distant slam of the front door. Then I rest my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands, emotionally exhausted and fighting tears.
This is how my father finds me a minute or two later.
“Charlotte? Is it over?”
I jerk my head up, fueled by sudden righteous anger. “What are you playing at? What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, inviting Percy here like that?”
My father shrugs, his expression mild and unrepentant. “He wanted to see you—”
“Because you told him I’d be here!”
“I wanted to give him a chance.”
I stand, the better to yell at him. At this point, I don’t even