Even if it was well deserved. “It’s a scrapbook I kept when I was younger.”
“Of me. Of Felix Morrison.” He said the name with disgust. “You told me you didn’t know who I was. The first night we met, you said you’d never heard of me.”
I reached for his hand and tried not to flinch when he jerked it away, out of reach. I had to explain this. To make him see. “I know I did, but I thought you were being arrogant that night. Now I know it was just to protect yourself from what you thought was a crazy stalker fan, but I was so annoyed that I just wanted to knock you down a few pegs. Which I shouldn’t have done and maybe I should have confessed earlier, but what would have happened? You would have walked away from me and never looked back. And I didn’t want to lose you.”
“You used me. You lied to me and then had me help you learn how to kiss.” I wished he would yell instead of utilizing this deadly calm voice he was using and his blank face. “Did you fake your phobia, too? Were you trying to trick me into being with you? Was this some scheme? Was the whole thing a lie?”
“Nothing was a lie. Besides me saying I didn’t know you. Everything else was the truth. A hundred percent. I promise.”
“Your promises don’t mean a whole lot right now.” He stood up, clearly meaning to leave.
I couldn’t let that happen. I grabbed for his wrist, and he stopped only to pull himself from my grasp.
“Please don’t go. We can work this out,” I begged.
“How?” he asked. “I thought I’d found this unicorn—this unexpected woman who was perfect for me and wasn’t blinded by my celebrity. Who didn’t care about the roles I played. Who cared about me. As a man.”
“I can’t say that I don’t care. But I only loved those characters because you were so good at performing them.” I saw immediately that that was the wrong thing to say and tried to fix it. “You are not some character to me. This was never about Felix or Malec for me. I couldn’t care less about what you do for a living. You’re just Noah to me.”
Finally, there was anger. “That isn’t true! There’s a four-inch notebook on your table saying that isn’t true!”
“I’m not the same person I was when I was fifteen. I know there’s a difference between fantasy and reality.”
“I don’t think you do,” he said, his voice back to being cold. “And right now, apparently neither do I.”
He was nearly to the front door when I called out, “You can’t go. I wanted to tell you everything, but I was too scared to. I didn’t want to lose you. I’m begging you. Please don’t do this.” My voice was edged with unshed tears. I was struggling so hard to keep myself in check, to not break down.
His shoulders curved in, and relief shot through me. I thought that was it. That I’d gotten through to him and we would talk about this and I would find a way to make it up to him.
Instead he seemed to shake off my words and without turning around, he said in a low voice, “Don’t call me. Don’t come to my house. I’m done.”
Then he walked out the front door, closing it behind him.
I collapsed onto the floor in a sobbing heap, crying so hard I thought my chest might split open. My throat felt raw, shredded, and my whole body shook with my tears. My heart ached so badly I didn’t know that it would ever beat the same way again. Him shutting me out of his life was what I was most afraid of and it was what had happened.
I’d ruined everything.
Life had to go on, but it was like all the color had been drained from the world. It didn’t help matters that I was living alone. It let me really steep myself in my depression.
Shelby came over the night after he walked out of my mother’s house and just held me while I cried and told her all the ways I had messed up and how I didn’t know how to live without him.
“I’ll tell you how. You get up in the morning and take a shower and keep living your life. You build your business. You find a new roommate.