sad smile and stands up.
“No. You shouldn’t have. But I shouldn’t have let you. I’m sorry, and I can’t atone.”
As he opens the door to leave, I remember one last true thing, something that he told me long ago. I call after him in a soft voice.
“Chris?”
He turns around and I whisper it so that only he can hear.
“It’s a hell of a thing to apologize to someone you love. Because it means that you have to admit to that person that you’re not perfect, that they’re not perfect, that no one will ever be perfect. Because in saying you’re sorry, you’re really admitting that you’re human.”
“Someone smart must have told you that.”
“You told me that.”
He gives me a bittersweet smile. “I forgot to tell you that you look beautiful tonight. But then again, you always do.”
With that, he’s gone. There’s a terrible finality about those words that’s magnified as the door shuts between us.
I sink into the bed.
Why do apologies always feel like goodbyes?
Chapter 18
CHRIS
5 Years Earlier
London
“Jesus. What the fuck? They expect people to walk on this shit?”
I glance down at the black and white tiles, which are arranged in geometric lines and shapes. The beats from the club are still pounding out a conflicting pattern in my head. I should have just taken another pill and kept dancing. That movement, unlike walking, was doable.
“It’s just some floor tile, Jensen.”
Marcus has his arm around me, but I throw it off.
“I can fucking walk, asshat.”
He lifts his arms. “I never said you couldn’t.”
I stumble slightly.
“What kind of an asshole agent are you? The club was open for at least another hour or two. I’m supposed to be celebrating right now. I’m done with the fucking movie, and you made me enough money that I can pay thousands of dollars to stay in your SHIT HOTEL.”
I yell the last words at the night clerk. He looks at me like I’ve just defaced a portrait of the queen before immediately picking up the phone on the desk.
“Chris. Shut. The. Fuck. Up,” Marcus hisses, before rushing over to talk to the guy at the desk.
“What are you saying? You better not be apologizing right now. They’re the ones who should be apologizing for this fucking ugly ass floor,” I yell, the sound of my voice echoing loudly through the lobby.
Marcus gives me a vicious death stare, but I choose to ignore it. Fuck him. Seriously. He talks to the clerk in hushed tones before coming back to my side.
“Get your ass upstairs, Chris, before they call security and kick us both out of here.”
I give him a little salute. “Aye, aye, captain. I was just going to do that. I need to see Hallie. Where the fuck is she? Why didn’t she come out with us? What’s the point of having a girlfriend if she won’t even come out dancing? Useless.”
Marcus grabs my arm and shoves me into the elevator and pushes the button at least a dozen times.
“She did come with us. Don’t you remember?”
I remember dancing. With a girl in a red dress. Who may or may not have been Hallie. Fucking hell. The music is starting to pound its beat again.
“Sure.”
“Sure.” Marcus takes a long, even breath. “Chris, I think you should stay with me tonight. There’s no use in waking Hallie up right now. The two of you are supposed to fly back to the States tomorrow, and I’m sure she would appreciate a little sleep.”
“You know what I think Hallie would appreciate?” I try to remember what my next words are supposed to be, but my head is fuzzy and I’ve lost my thought, so I frown at Marcus instead.
“Chris, it’s not a good idea.”
“Since when were women ever a good idea?” I lean back against the cool metal of the elevator and let it linger on my skin for a minute. Bile is starting to rise in my throat and I manage to choke it down again. I feel like shit. And I need Hallie.
“Except for Hallie. Hallie is always a good idea.”
“Fine. Hallie is always a good idea. Just like it’s a good idea to let her see you like this. But what do I know? You’re just going to do whatever it is that you want to do anyway. Just like always.”
The elevator doors suddenly open to a dizzying array of enormous plants and an endless series of doors with numbers. I look to Marcus for help.
“It’s 1235.”
“I knew that.”
“Of course you did. You know