Her eyes cloud, and a small line forms between her eyebrows. “This has absolutely nothing to do with Jack.”
I hate the sound of his name on her lips. I hate that I’m losing her, and that maybe I deserve to.
This is the end.
I reach for her, pulling her to me and covering her lips with mine. I kiss her hard, drinking in the taste of her, the heady feeling of desire and acute want. When I release her, her breaths are quick and sharp, and her eyes are wet with tears.
Jesus.
“I’m sorry.” I start the engine, needing to put some space between us. “I had a great weekend too. Goodbye, Rachel.”
“Yeah,” I hear her say, but I don’t turn to look at her. She walks away, and I watch her go, hating her ex, and most of all, myself.
Chapter 17
You can’t give me what I want.
I wish I could stop obsessing about those words.
You can’t give me what I want.
What does she want that I can’t give her?
Because I’m damn sure whatever it is, I can do a lot better than the clown who left her crying in an elevator and pushed her straight into my arms.
At my apartment, I pour myself a drink, letting the soothing sounds of Mozart calm me as I observe the city through the living room windows.
You can’t give me what I want.
My phone rings. It’s Aidan.
“Just checking on you,” he says, sounding cheerful. “Haven’t spoken in a while. How was Europe?”
“It was okay,” I say with a sigh. “I mostly worked.”
“Do you ever stop?”
I snort. “You’re one to talk.”
I hear him chuckle. “Give Rachel my best.”
Rachel.
You can’t give me what I want.
I mutter something under my breath.
“What?” Aidan asks.
“Nothing,” I lie. “I’ll give her your best.”
There’s a pause on his side. “Ookay.”
I’m not usually the kind of person who needs to unburden about my love life, and I don’t plan to start now. “I was about to go to bed. Let’s talk tomorrow.”
I realize after the call that I didn’t ask him about his work on the play.
Too focused on your own misery, Landon.