Burn My Hart

by Clare Connelly

  I’ll go without a backwards glance and not for a second will I let Theo know the reason. It wouldn’t be fair on him. He’s never promised me love, and it’s not his fault I’ve broken the rules we agreed to. None of this is his fault.

  * * *

  ‘What do you mean, “gone”?’

  I stare at the waiter and that old adage ‘Don’t shoot the messenger’ screams inside my brain but I can’t help it. I look at the man as though he’s just told me the sky is about to fall because everything Asha said after Grace’s bachelorette party is right there in the forefront of my mind and my sense of foreboding is impossible to ignore.

  ‘Gone where?’

  ‘Miss Sauvages asked me to explain, when the official photographs were completed, that she had an urgent situation at work. She sends her apologies and best wishes.’

  ‘What else did she say?’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s all, sir.’

  I glare at the waiter and then nod tersely, something pushing at my gut. I pull my phone out and type a text.

  Where are you?

  No answer. It’s my brother’s goddamned wedding so I can’t leave, but something feels strange, despite the explanation the waiter gave me. I just can’t imagine what emergency would have required her to leave then and there.

  A little before midnight, I send another text.

  I’ll be back at the apartment soon. Hope everything’s okay.

  No answer. And, for no reason I can think of, a sense of unease grows within me. I leave as soon as I can politely do so, disembarking and getting straight in a limo, heading back to the penthouse with a dozen questions tumbling through me.

  ‘Hey, babe? Is everything all right?’ I ask loudly as I push the door inwards. The apartment is pitch-black.

  ‘Asha?’

  I move from room to room, my mind slow to accept what’s patently obvious. I leave my bedroom until last. When I step inside, it’s empty. Devoid of almost everything of Asha’s except for two things. Her beautiful floral scent lingers in the air so if I close my eyes I can imagine she’s standing right in front of me. And there’s a note on the edge of the bed, her handwriting unmistakable.

  I pick it up with an inexplicable sense of trepidation, unfolding the paper and reading it with my jaw clenched.

  Theo,

  Sorry to leave so abruptly. I had an urgent work thing come up and didn’t want to pull you away from the festivities.

  Pass on my best to Jagger and Grace.

  Thank you for everything.

  Asha

  I stare at her words, written in that beautiful cursive script of hers, with a squeezing in my gut. I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster and I can’t slow it down. The note is so formal, so businesslike.

  This is my fault. I knew she was upset with me; I’d planned to talk to her but there was no time yesterday. Or perhaps I didn’t want to make the time. I knew she was still upset this morning, and I knew it when we got to the wedding and I said goodbye so I could go stand with Jagger. She was so tense it was as though she was holding a part of herself back from me. I pretended it didn’t matter but, Christ, now I see. She was hurting, even then. I hurt her.

  I call her number. It goes straight to voicemail.

  I try again ten minutes later. Nothing.

  I send her an email. No response.

  I try calling a little while later, then reread the note, slamming stuff in my own bag as I skim the words.

  This makes no sense. I load up a new text message.

  Where are you?

  It’s a while before she finally replies.

  Just landing in LAX.

  Nothing else. Nothing more.

  I stare at it and shake my head. It doesn’t make any sense. Nothing makes sense.

  Can we have dinner when I’m back? Day after next.

  She doesn’t reply for several hours, by which point I’m ready to get straight on a jet and fly myself directly to her apartment building. When she does finally get back to me, it’s brief.

  That’s not a good idea. It’s been fun, but I think it’s best if we leave it at that. Take care of yourself, Theo.

  Hell, to the no. No way is she ending it like this. After everything we’ve shared? My mouth forms a grim line on my face. We agreed to end it, she’s right, but it was never supposed to be without a proper goodbye. I deserve at least that, don’t I?

  * * *

  Running away was a really cowardly thing to do. I knew it as soon as the plane took off and I expelled a huge sigh of relief. I knew it and yet I didn’t change my course, or my mind. It was a matter of survival or something.

  And now, three days later, I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the pounding at the door without moving. Because I’m being cowardly still.

  I know it’s Theo. Who else would it be?

  Sure enough, my phone buzzes a moment later and when I look at the screen his face buzzes up, larger than life. It’s like being the victim of a drive-by shooting. I hadn’t expected to see him, and not this photo, the one I took so many months ago when things were simple and I was the happiest I’ve ever been. Salt fills my mouth. I slam the phone down and stare resolutely at my ceiling.

  A moment later, a text pings in.

  We have to talk.

  There’s a tiny burst of hope that flares inside me. What if he doesn’t want to lose me, to lose what we are?

  But I know Theo too well to let that hope last long. He’s stubborn and determined and he’s not going to let anyone or anything change his mind. The whole time we were sleeping together he was adamant we would only ever be about sex. And on that last night in Australia I basically told him I loved him. I begged him to love me, just like I have begged my dad, over and over, and his response was just the same. Rejection. Resounding, soul-destroying rejection.

  He’s right, though. Running away after everything we’ve shared isn’t right; he deserves a little more of an explanation, a proper goodbye. But not like this. It’s going to be hard enough to face him without feeling like I’ve been hit by a bus. I sit up in bed and stare at my reflection. My eyes are red-rimmed, my skin pale, my hair a complete disaster. Reaching for my phone, I begin to type.

  Sure. I can meet for a quick drink tonight. Six p.m.?

  As soon as I send it, I feel better. Empowered.

  Where are you?

  I ignore his text, my heart pounding. A moment later, another message.

  Fine. Four Seasons?

  I don’t know why he’s chosen there as a venue. It reminds me of the night we agreed to end this, the night things shifted between us, and the feelings are like torture.

  Asha?

  Okay. I’ll see you then.

  I don’t sign off with an X and I switch my phone to flight mode afterwards. It’s rare for me to be out of contact but I just need some time.

  How much time? God knows.

  I dress with care that evening, choosing a pair of black leather pants and a beige sweater shirt that falls off one shoulder. It’s a confidence thing, but it doesn’t really help.

  I have to pause outside the bar to get my breath, and then I stand in the doorframe, a little to the side so I can see in without being seen. I recognise his hair from across the room and a visceral ache spreads through me. I’m so tempted to turn around and walk away. It hurts like hell to see him, to feel like everything’s shifted between us.

  But I’ve already ghosted him once, I don’t intend to do it again. This is going to be the hardest thing I’ve done in my whole darn life.

  I grind my teeth and step into the bar, moving through it with my head dipped, sliding into the seat opposite before he sees me and before he can stand up.

  I regard him, carefully keeping my expression blanked of anything, my eyes holding his for just long enough to be polite.
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  ‘Hey.’ My smile is tight. ‘How’s it going?’

  I sit there, staring at him, waiting for him to say something, but for a long time he just stares at me as though he’s trying to make sense of a math problem.

  ‘How are you?’

  His question lands right between my breasts. I swallow back an acerbic rejoinder and try to remember the line I’d prepared. ‘Fine, thanks. I’m sorry about leaving the wedding so abruptly. I had something pop up and—’

  ‘What’s going on, Ash?’

  My stomach swoops. He knows me too well to be fooled by my lie. ‘We agreed the wedding would be the end for us.’

  ‘We agreed I’d help you meet someone else.’ He pauses, a frown on his face as he searches for something else to say. ‘The wedding was neither here nor there.’

  Something flares inside of me. ‘This might come as a surprise, but I think I’m pretty confident I can find my own dates. Thanks all the same.’

  His expression shifts, a look of frustration drawing his brow downwards, but before he can speak a waitress appears, a bright smile on her face.

  ‘Hey! What can I get you?’

  Theo drags his eyes away from me. ‘A beer. Asha?’

  I feel like I need a drink but I want to get out of here as quickly as possible. I order a single shot of Scotch.

  The waitress disappears, leaving us alone once more. I notice everything about him. I look at his hands and the memories of them on my skin are visceral and shocking.

  ‘I wasn’t pimping you out to my friends.’ His voice is raw, like it’s being dragged from deep inside of him. ‘I just wanted to know you’d be with someone who deserved you.’

  Theo looks away from me for a second and I study him for several moments, my eyes resting on his face, my heart twisting painfully in my chest. God help me, I love him. I love him so much that sitting across from him is a form of agony and torture because I know he doesn’t love me, that he won’t ever love me. He loves sleeping with me and, if I played my cards right, I could make it so that we keep doing what we were doing, mind-blowing orgasm after mind-blowing orgasm. But then what? For how long?

  I have to get away from him.

  ‘Look, Theo, this has been great. I’ve had a lot of fun with you, but I think it’s pretty clear it’s run its course.’

  He turns to face me slowly but is forestalled from answering by the reappearance of the waitress. She places our drinks down and slides the bill between us. Theo takes it without looking up, placing his black credit card on the tray then passing it back to her. ‘Start a tab,’ he murmurs. I think it’s just to get rid of her.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I won’t be staying long.’

  ‘Why not?’

  I frown.

  ‘Why can’t you stay?’ He doesn’t give me a chance to answer. ‘Why do we have to end this?’

  My stomach squeezes.

  ‘Australia was just an arbitrary line in the sand. I don’t want this to be over.’

  ‘I do.’ I’m surprised to hear the truth ringing through my voice.

  ‘Why?’

  I grind my teeth together. ‘We want different things.’ I stand up, reaching for my bag and jamming it under my arm. I have to get out of here. He’s as much quicksand as ever. ‘This isn’t enough for me.’

  ‘I know that.’

  Somehow, his agreement angers me even more.

  I don’t want him to be placid and reasonable. I want him to fight with me. I want him to fight for me. But he doesn’t.

  ‘All I want is for you to be happy.’

  I turn my head away, looking towards the door of the restaurant. ‘And then what, Theo?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You find someone else to fuck senseless whenever the mood strikes you?’

  I can’t identify the emotions that dance in his eyes, but I think I see shame there.

  ‘And how long does that go on? The rest of your life? Is that really all you want?’

  A muscle jerks low in his jaw. ‘I want you.’

  My stomach squeezes. I take a step back, uncomprehending. ‘What?’ It’s just a whisper, a pained, hoarse word.

  ‘I want what we have. I don’t want it to end. I want more time.’ He stands up too, hip to hip with me, his eyes holding mine, his sincerity so palpable it hurts. ‘I want another month. Two. Three. However long you can give me.’ His hands lift up and cradle my face and I feel more than his sincerity, I feel his sadness. I know how our end is hurting him, just like it’s hurting me. My throat is raw with unshed tears.

  ‘I can’t do it.’

  ‘I won’t hurt you,’ he promises, dropping his head forward so our brows touch and I taste him on my breath. ‘I would never hurt you.’

  I sweep my eyes shut. ‘You already have, Theo. You can’t help it.’

  ‘Don’t say that. I’ve tried so hard to do the right thing by you...’

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ I promise, not moving, breathing him in for as long as I can because I know this now, right here, really is the end. ‘Do you know what I liked about you? Do you know why I wanted to hook up with you that night at the gala event?’

  He’s silent.

  ‘I’d had a terrible day. It was my birthday.’

  He opens his mouth to say something. He hadn’t realised. He doesn’t even know my birthday—that’s how shallow this is.

  ‘Which means it’s also the day my mom died. And I spent the day with my dad and all that guilt he lays at my feet and I just wanted to forget. I chose you to help me do that because I knew you were like this.’ I gesture to his chest. ‘You’re a bachelor. In fact, you’re famous for it. I knew what I was getting myself into. I just forgot that, somewhere along the way.’

  A muscle jerks in his square jaw. ‘Tell me what I can do to make this work. Just for a bit longer.’

  ‘Nothing.’ I pull away from him then, straightening, pushing against my sore, aching heart. I reach for his hand and squeeze it in mine. His strong, capable hand—hands that have promised me the world even when his heart never had any intention of following through with that.

  ‘Look after yourself, Theo.’

  I turn and walk out with my head held high and my heart smashing into a billion pieces. I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘ASHA, WAIT.’ I run after her, catching her as she reaches the street corner. It’s September. It shouldn’t be cold but, out of nowhere, rain has started to fall. Just lightly, but the air has that smell of cooling asphalt and lightning. I grab her arm and spin her around. She’s crying. Everything inside me grinds to a halt.

  ‘Christ. What is it?’

  ‘Nothing!’ She glares at me with undisguised anger.

  ‘I’m sorry, okay. Tell me what I can do to fix this.’

  She shakes her head and laughs, but it’s a sad laugh, a sound rich with disbelief. ‘You don’t get it, do you? All along you’ve told me what you want and I thought I was okay with that but a few weeks ago, that night with Angus, I started to feel... I guess it was like opening a box inside of me. I realised how much I wanted to be in a relationship, how important it is to me to have a family one day, but the answer was never about meeting someone else. I don’t want anyone else. I just want you.’

  I stare at her with intense frustration. ‘Then how come we’re both standing here in the rain arguing about this? I want you and you want me. It seems pretty damned simple to me.’

  I drop my mouth to hers and the kiss is like coming home again. Fuck. I have never felt so whole as I do in this moment. I kiss her, pushing her body against the building, my back being doused in rain that has started to fall more heavily now, and I lose myself in the magic of this perfection. I breathe her in, tasting her, my body cleaved to hers, and I believe, in
this moment, that everything’s going to be okay.

  ‘No!’ She rips her head away, pushing at my chest, glaring at me and then she sobs, a sound that’s akin to ripping my heart out of my chest. ‘No.’ Softer, but somehow more desperate.

  ‘What is it?’ I demand, but with desperation because we’re so close to working this out. I just need her to tell me clearly what she needs from me and I’ll do it. I’ll give it to her. Anything.

  ‘We don’t want the same thing. We want precisely the opposite thing.’

  ‘You’re crazy.’ I shake my head. ‘We’ve just covered this.’

  ‘I want you in my life in every single way. Not as just my lover, but as my boyfriend, my friend, my confidante. Everything you’ve been this whole time without realising it. I want you in my life for as long as we both shall live. I want you to be my partner, my husband, my everything. I want you to be the father of my children.’ The last sentence is broken, filled with grief.

  Her words are shelling down on me, harder than the rain, harder than anything. I listen to them with a growing sense of panic, my breath burning through me, and shake my head without realising I’m doing it. Everything she’s saying is the exact opposite of what I want, except in one way. I don’t want marriage, children, for ever, but I do want Asha. I want her, but not like she’s described. I can’t offer her those things.

  ‘And you just want me in your bed—’ her eyes are squeezed shut ‘—for a few more months.’

  The insufficiency of what I’ve offered slams me like a freight train. We’re looking at each other from two sides of a ravine. It’s impossible to cross it.

  ‘I want you to be happy,’ I say quietly. ‘And I think I can make you happy. For a time, at least. I think you’re hurting now and you don’t need to be.’

  She sobs softly.

  ‘I think you are beautiful and brave and that if I was ever going to question my approach to life, if I was ever going to change my mind about relationships and marriage, it would be for you.’ I need her to hear that, to know it’s the truth. ‘This is who I am, and I can’t change. I won’t change. But if you let me, I will give more of myself to you than I ever have to another soul, and I will make you happy again, I will make you laugh, and I will be there with you until you’re ready to walk away.’