able to. Not yet, anyway. Yet, you couldn’t even handle me expressing it. You can’t handle a man feeling love toward you.”
“I can only give you so much of me,” I say as tears fill my eyes. “Why can’t you be okay with what I’m willing to give?”
“You have no idea how cruel you are.”
I shake my head again as tears fall down my face. “Don’t say that—”
“You used me.”
“How can you say that? You wanted me to write about you. Let me be your muse. I’m the perfect book boyfriend. A total catch. You are so two-faced, you know that? You want me to write about you, and when I do, you flip. You wanted this. Admit it.”
“Not like this.”
“Then, like what then?”
“You’ll never get it. I’m not going to stand here and fight for you to love me.” He walks around me and heads toward the front of my apartment.
“That’s right. Run. Your mother’s right. You are a typical Libra who can’t handle not being the center of attention. If you’re not the center of my damn universe, then you don’t want in at all. I’m willing to give you what I can. It’s you who wants more. Well, we’re not Cassiopeia and Cepheus. I’m not going to fling myself into the heavens for some egomaniac.”
He stops to glare at me, and I know I’ve gone too far.
When he turns to leave again without saying another word, I try to stop him. “Wait, Jake. Don’t go.”
“Good-bye, Lace.”
“Fuck. No. Wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
He stops and turns again. “You know what your problem is? You’re stuck in your own head. And I’m not talking about your stories. Your past and why you’re living this lie are totally bullshit. I’m not Michael. I’m not your father or that stupid fuck you lost your virginity to in high school. I’m Jake Moreau, and up until five minutes ago, I was convinced I was in love with you. Call me insecure, but, yeah, when I’m with a woman, I want to be her whole damn world, and I refuse to be punished for wanting so. Damn, you have so much to love, Lacey; it’s a shame you can’t even see it.”
“Jake—”
He keeps walking and then says over his shoulder, “Don’t come knocking on my door. I won’t be there.”
“Can’t you just—”
He slams the door in my face, stopping me suddenly. I place my palms on it and let the tears fall freely.
You don’t realize the power someone has over you until they leave you. I protected myself from getting hurt again, only to find my heart more broken than it’s ever been.
This is why I don’t do relationships. Every great romance has a breakup scene. In fiction, you can write about the couple getting back together. In the real world, they slam doors and hate each other.
I don’t need him, I tell myself. Then, why do I feel so fucking miserable?
I walk back into my kitchen, this time not wanting a cup of coffee. I need the hard stuff. As I’m grabbing a glass, I see the damn manuscript on the counter. Instead of the title page being on top, there’s a printout of an email. It’s from Charisse and addressed to Jake at the flower shop.
Lifting it up, I read the subject line.
For Jake Moreau only.
In the body is a simple message:
Don’t let her convince you she doesn’t believe in love.
She does. And you’re the man who changed her.
For the first time in years, I cry.
A tear falls because of my meddling best friend who had to go and stick her nose in my business.
More come as I remember how used I felt when Michael walked out the door.
I sob when I think about my father and how he barely put forth the effort to be my dad.
That feeling I had the other day in the car, the one where I felt the ground leaving me, is back. Except, this time, I can’t hold on to my chest and steady it. My entire insides feel like they’re dropping down to my feet.
I’m falling apart. Body and soul, I come undone as I realize the only man I was willing to put my heart on the line for walked away from me, like everyone else.
Chapter Twenty-Two
JAKE
I’m the kind of guy who is looking for his dream girl. For me, she’s a classically put together, ultra-feminine woman who is polite, alluring, and socially confident.
That’s why when Lacey Camille “Rivers” Wampo knocked