I look up at Vance’s gorgeous house. Tessa probably isn’t even in there, and I’ll look like an idiot showing up uninvited. Actually, I’ll look like a dumb-ass either way. I should just leave.
Besides, this shirt is fucking itchy, and I hate dressing up. It’s only a black button-up shirt, but still.
Seeing my father’s car, I walk up the driveway a little bit and look inside. In the backseat is that hideous purse that Tessa brings along to every single function she attends.
So she’s inside, she’s in there. My empty stomach flutters at the idea of seeing her, of being close to her. What would I even say? I don’t know. I have to explain how my days have been complete hell since I left for England and how I need her, I need her more than anything. I have to tell her that I’m an asshole and I can’t believe that I fucked up the one good thing in my life, her. She’s everything to me, she always will be.
I’ll just go inside and get her to leave with me so we can talk—I’m nervous, fuck am I nervous.
I’m going to throw up. No. But if there were food in my stomach , I’m sure I would. I know I look like complete shit; I wonder if she does. Not that she ever could, but has it been as hard for her as it’s been for me?
I finally reach the front door, but then turn back around. I hate being around people as it is, and there are at least fifteen cars in this driveway. Everyone will stare at me, and I’ll look like a goddamned fool, which is exactly what I am.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I spin around and quickly ring the doorbell.
This is for Tessa. This is for her, I keep reminding myself when Kim opens the door with a surprised smile.
“Hardin? I didn’t know you’d be here,” she says. I can tell she’s trying her hardest to be polite, but there’s an anger coming to the surface, probably because she’ll feel defensive of Tessa.
“Yeah . . . me either,” I reply.
Then a new emotion—pity. It seeps into her eyes when she takes in my appearance, which is probably even worse than I imagine, since I just got off the plane and came straight here.
“Well . . . come inside, it’s freezing out,” she offers and waves me inside.
For a moment I’m stunned by the way Vance’s house is decorated like a fucking work of art; it doesn’t even look like anyone lives here. It’s cool and all, but I like older things, not so Modern Art.
“We’re just getting ready to eat,” she tells me as I follow her into a dining room with glass walls.
And that’s when I see her.
My heart stops, and a pressure lands on my chest that is so overwhelming it nearly chokes me. As she listens to someone telling her a story or something, she smiles and slides her hand across her forehead to push her hair back. The reflection of the setting sun behind her makes her glow—literally—and I can’t move.
I hear her laugh, and for the first time in ten days I can breathe. I’ve missed her so much, and she looks phenomenal—she always does—but the red dress she’s wearing and the sun hitting her skin, the smile on her face . . . why is she smiling and laughing?
Shouldn’t she be crying and shouldn’t she look like hell? She giggles again, and my eyes finally discern who she’s talking to, who’s making her forget me.
Fucking Trevor. I hate that bastard so fucking much—I could walk over there and throw him through that glass window and no one would be able to stop me. Why the fuck is he always around her? He’s a fucking twit, and I’m going to fucking kill him.
No. I need to calm down. If I hurt him right now, Tessa will never listen to me.
I close my eyes for a few seconds and talk myself down. If I stay calm she’ll listen, and she’ll leave here with me so we can go home, where I’ll beg for her forgiveness, and she’ll tell me she still loves me, and we’ll make love and everything will be okay.
I continue to watch her; she looks animated as she begins to tell a story. The hand that isn’t holding the glass of wine moves around as she talks and smiles. My heart races as I spot the bracelet on her wrist. She’s still wearing it—she’s still wearing it. That’s a good sign; it has to be.
Fucking Trevor watches her intently, his expression holding an adoration for her that makes my blood boil. He looks like a love-sick puppy, and she’s feeding right into it.
Has she moved on already? With him?
It would break me if she did . . . but I couldn’t blame her, really. I haven’t returned her calls. I haven’t even bothered to purchase a new phone yet. She probably thinks I don’t care, that I’ve moved on already, too.
My mind travels back to that quiet street in England, to Natalie’s swollen belly, to Elijah’s adoring smile for his fiancée. Trevor is looking at Tessa that same way.
Trevor is her Elijah. He’s her second chance to have what she deserves.
The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I need to leave. I have to get out of here and leave her alone.
It now makes sense to me why I ran into Natalie that day. I saw the girl I hurt tremendously so I wouldn’t make the same mistake again with Tessa.
I have to leave. I have to get out of here before she sees me.
But the moment I admit this to myself, she looks up and her eyes meet mine. Her smile vanishes, and the glass of wine slips from her hand and shatters on the hardwood floor.
Everyone turns to look at her, but she stays focused on me. I break eye contact, and see Trevor looking at her, confused but ready to spring into action to help her.
Tessa blinks a few times, and her eyes travel to the floor. “I’m so sorry,” she says frantically and bends down to try to gather the pieces of broken glass.