“You enabled my illness. In fact, you encouraged me to give away my money and keep up this—this deranged fantasy world I was living in.”
My guilt and compassion for what he’s going through quickly turns to outrage. It feels like he’s spitting on Marus and what he stood for, and I won’t have it.
“Fantasy? Fantasy.” It’s my turn to point a finger in his face. “Those people you helped aren’t fantasies. They’re real. The lives you changed are real. I’m real!” I growl in a low voice. “None of it was fake, including our feelings for each other.”
“Feelings?” He chuckles bitterly. “I think you’re mistaking a good fuck for something entirely different.”
His words cut me deep. So this is the monster Rebecca warned me about. Cold. Ruthless. Selfish. “Ask yourself this, Mason: After you died, why did you come back as the complete opposite version of yourself, and why was he happier than you’ve ever been?”
He stares me down, but doesn’t reply.
“I know you remember me,” I hiss, “which means you remember him and every moment you spent giving people a chance to live their dreams. He’s still in there, Mason. He is you. You just have to decide which man you really want to be.”
“I already have. Now fuck off.”
I inhale slowly and pause from saying something I’ll regret. I’m angry, I’m hurt, but I never want to be cruel like him. I refuse to let this man change me like I let Greg do. This time, I know who I am, and what I’m worth. The fucking awful, crazy part is that I have him to thank for that. Or Marus, anyway.
“Fine. You win,” I say. “I’ll have your check tomorrow. Because tonight, I have a date with a very big box of tissues and a bottle of wine. And I have one condition.”
“You’re in no position to bargain, Ginnie.”
“Aren’t I, though? Because I can tell the world that you were faking it. That you knew what you were doing. After all, you used your expensive education to make a killing in the stock market. A man with amnesia wouldn’t be able to do that, would he? But I could tell the world you were really hiding from all the bad stuff you did and who you were because you were a dick. And a coward.”
He snarls in my general direction. “What do you want?”
“Nothing. I want nothing. We never met. You don’t know me. My name is never mentioned in any reports or trials or anything. I just want to forget I ever met Mason McMillan.”
“What about that idiot, Marus Prospero?”
I smile with pride. “I’ll love him forever. Until the day I die. But never you. Have a wonderful, greedy, bitter life. I hope you choke on it.”
“Five million by tomorrow,” he says coldly and turns for the door.
I watch as he’s swarmed by the press and manages to get into a waiting car.
Goodbye, Marus. I try not to cry, but I can’t help it. The sense of loss is too big, too heavy to hold inside.
“Miss? There’s a back way out,” says the doorman.
“Thank you.” I wipe away my tears with a shaky hand, pushing down the sick feeling in my stomach.
What was the point of all this? The crossing paths, the coincidences, the feeling in my gut that told me this thing between us was meant to happen?
I just don’t get it. Not when it ended like this.
Chapter Thirty-One
“Congratulations!” I hug Olivia and then Jay. Both are dressed like they’re going to a sock hop, but their uniforms are made from spaghetti-print fabric. “I can’t believe how awesome this place looks.” They left the diner in its original state with speckled beige counters, black and white checkered floors, and lots and lots of shiny chrome, but they added meatball chandeliers and meatball vinyl seat covers for the booths.
“Thanks, Gin. Hopefully everyone likes the food as much as the music,” says Jay. People are already dancing to the ’50s Italian music playing on the jukebox in the corner. It sort of reminds me of the Four Tops. But in Italian. Obviously.
“I know they will.” I give him an encouraging pat on the arm. “I already had the Sicilian fries and nearly died from yum-overload.” Basically they were garlic fries drowned in this amazing marinara and bubbling mozzarella with sprinkles of crispy basil leaves.
“Thanks, Ginnie. I’d better go check on the food.” Jay hurries to the kitchen through the double doors.
“Thanks for coming, Ginnie-bean,” Olivia says, her face beaming with pure happiness.
It’s a big moment, and I can’t stop smiling either. “God, no. I’m so incredibly proud of you two. This is…” I inhale with joy, “is amazing. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Thanks, but I know it’s been a rough few weeks for you.”
Actually, it’s been almost a month since I last saw him. “At least he kept his word and left us out of the drama.”