“You know nothing about torture.” He bites out every syllable, and each one hits me like a lash.
“Aidan…” I pull in a breath. “I shouldn’t have said what I did at the presser, but I meant every word. When I left here—”
“Me.”
I blink at the interruption.
“When you left me,” he clarifies, his eyes burning.
I close my eyes. “When I left you, Aidan, I thought I was doing the right thing. I know you’re angry and you have every right to be, but I can’t keep apologizing forever.”
Abruptly, he puts some distance between us, walking over to the other side of his desk. “The thing is, Liz, nobody is asking you to.”
I follow him. “So that’s it? You’re going to keep pretending I mean nothing to you?”
“I don’t have to pretend.” His eyes are expressionless, his voice brutal. “You mean nothing to me.”
“Liar.”
He shrugs. “Close the door behind you, Liz.”
I stare at him, frustrated beyond words. “I asked you to have dinner with me and I waited for you. I waited for hours. Did it make you happy to think of me, alone, enduring the whispers, wondering if you would bother to come? When did you become so heartless?”
He lowers his head, bringing his face so close to mine, we’re almost touching. “If anybody here has the right to talk about heartlessness, it’s not you.” He places his hands on my shoulders and gently moves me backward, creating some space between us, then he walks over to the door and pulls it open. “Since you refuse to leave, have fun staying where you’re not wanted.” Then he walks out, leaving me alone in the tiny office.
Chapter Twenty Three
Aidan
She has some nerve, really, accusing me of cruelty. Cruelty!
Look in the fucking mirror, Liz.
I stride through the theater, making for the stage door. Outside, a few people are waiting, hoping to catch Liz on her way out. Many are the wide-eyed young girls who make up the majority of her fan base. I scowl as a few of them raise phones and take my picture.
“You don’t deserve her!” someone yells.
Jesus!
My scowl deepens and I hurry away from the entrance, leaving them to their vigil. Liz will probably disappoint them by leaving through one of the more discreet exits.
Not that I care.
I walk past a few shops, then stop when I spy the headline on the front page of a tabloid stacked on the display rack of a tiny grocery store.
Another big L for Lkay!
There’s a grainy picture of her waiting alone at a restaurant table. The picture was taken with a smartphone but from a bad angle, like the photographer was trying to be discreet. Liz’s face is turned away from the camera, but there was enough detail for me to make out the dejection on her face.
My fingers clench.
When did you become so heartless?
I push my hands into my pockets and keep walking, squashing the guilt that makes me want to go back and apologize to her.
What do I have to apologize for?
I didn’t ask her to come back and try to upend my life. I didn’t encourage her, and my lack of response to her text should have told her I would not come running to meet her for dinner just because she asked.