There's no malice in his expression. No sign he's after hurting Nick. No clue as to what he's after, actually.
"I'm not sure why you want to meet with me." I cross my legs. "What could I possibly have to do with you selling Nick's company?"
"It's our company. We grew it together." Shepard shifts like he's fighting a frown. "You must care about him to meet me here."
"Yes."
"Do you love him?"
My cheeks flush. It's like it's national Ask Lizzy if She's in Love Day.
I look back to Shepard. "Yes, I do."
He frowns with sympathy. "This isn't personal. I'm not trying to hurt you."
I don't like the sound of that.
"I'd like you to break up with Nick."
My stomach twists. "Are you trying to hurt him?"
"That isn't my priority."
"Is it about money?"
He stares back at me, totally unreadable. "If there's something you want more than me backing off the sale—money, another job, information you can use for leverage—"
"No. I want you to back off the sale. Nick is miserable over this. I..." I don't want to share my feelings with someone who is so blasé with other people's, but I can't have everything on my chest. "I can't lose him to this."
"Then leave him."
I can't lose him like that either. My body goes cold. "At least tell me what you get out of me leaving Nick."
"Look at it this way. If he loves you, he'll fight to get you back. You'll make up and be happy."
"And you'll get...?"
"What I want."
"Which is?"
His expression hardens. "Jasmine."
"How will this get you Jasmine?"
"I need to know if he loves her. If she loves him."
"She loves you. She practically told him that."
"Words are cheap. I need to see what she does. What he does. Letting her leave was the worst mistake of my life. I'll do whatever it takes to win her back, no matter what you or anyone else suggests." He stares back at me. "I hope that Nick really does love you. That he fights for you and you end up happy together."
"Because it will be easier for you to get what you want?"
"Yes. And because he's my brother. I do care about his happiness."
"But not as much as you care about her?"
He doesn't blink. "I care about her more than I care about anything."
"I believe him when he tells me he never touched Jasmine. And he doesn't look at her like he's ever wanted her."
Shepard's expression fills with frustration. "I'm sure you're a lovely person, but we're not friends. This is a business arrangement."
"Fine." It's not like I want someone like Shepard as a friend. "What are the terms?"
"Break up with Nick. You have until the end of the weekend. If you do, I'll step off the sale on Monday."
"What if he fights me?"
"Fight back."
"What about him fighting for me?"
"Make him work for it. Give it two weeks. If he's still fighting, do what you want. I'll call off the sale as soon as I get word it's over."
I bite my lip.
It makes sense... in a twisted kind of way.
He wants to know if Jasmine loves Nick. If she'll run to him as soon as he's available. Or if he'll seek comfort in her.
But what if he's right?
What if Nick wants to fuck his way out of his pain with the closest available woman?
He might not forgive me for this.
He might not fight.
I might not get him back.
"How do I know I can trust you?" I ask.
"You don't have another option."
He's right. I'm stuck. And I'm a pawn. It's awful.
"If I don't hear from you by start of the day on Monday, I'll assume you decided not to do it, and I'll sell."
"Doesn't the money you could make mean something to you?" I ask.
"You have my number." He slides out of his seat and offers his hand to shake. "It's your decision."
I shake his hand with a weak grip.
The world goes cold as I watch him leave. It's my decision. Either I leave Nick, or he loses his company. And I lose him.
It takes ten minutes for me to regain my breath. I can't stomach another cab ride.
I take the subway to Kat and Blake's place.
When the doorman assures me that they aren't home, and thus aren't fucking on the couch, I let myself in.
Sure enough, the penthouse is empty. That beautiful blue New York light streams through the windows.
Even that is ugly.
I'm numb all over. My thoughts are in messy squiggles, so far from the straight lines I need to figure out what to do.
A hot bath does nothing to wake my senses. I wipe off my makeup and climb into the empty spare room.
There are pajamas somewhere, but I can't bother. I pull the blanket over my head and press my eyelids together.
There's no way out.
No matter what I do, I lose Nick.
Chapter Thirty
It's too bright in here. It should be illegal for fluorescent lights to be so bright.
My head is pounding. From the hangover or the misery, I'm not sure. No matter what I do, I lose Nick.
It hurts to think. Hell, it hurts to breathe.
There's a knock on the bedroom door. It's followed by a soft voice.
"Hey, Lizzy. You up?" Kat asks.
"I am now." I throw the comforter over my head, inspecting my cocktail dress.
There's no time to change or make up a believable cover story.
Kat enters the room with a glass of water. She sits on the bed and hands me the drink. "Want to tell me what's going on?"
"I went out with Sarah and felt like coming here."
She opens her palm to reveal two ibuprofen. "Want to try again?"
"I wanted to see you, but you were out."
Despite the doubt in her expression, she hands over the pills. I swallow them and down all the water. The pounding in my head lessens by three percent. It's enough to motivate me to find my glasses and drag my heels to the kitchen.
According to the microwave, it's almost noon.
Kat pours and fixes two mugs of coffee. "You have ten messages from Nick. Does that have anything to do with your appearance here?"
"My phone was off last night."
She pushes my drink across the counter. "Sue me. I was worried. I've been caught up with wedding stuff and we haven't talked much."
"Two weeks from tomorrow."
She nods. "Not going to distract me." She sips her drink. "What happened?"
The squiggly thoughts in my brain straighten out. It's bright. I have coffee. I can think clearly, even with the pounding in my head.
There's really no decision here.
Nick loves the company more than anything. More than he'll ever love me.
I stare at my coffee. It's dark and deep, like Nick's eyes.
There's a pang in my chest. This is going to hurt so fucking bad, but it's the only thing that makes sense.
I look back to Kat. "I have to break up with Nick."
"Why?"
I struggle to find an explanation that won't give anything away. "He's in love with his job."
"So?"
"So? Didn't you break up with Blake because he was in love with his job, and he didn't love you or something like that?"
"Technically." She points to her engagement ring. "But I did give him another chance."
"He got lucky. You're forgiving."
"What about your internship?"
"I'll find another one."
"You're only halfway through the semester. What about school?"
"I don't know." I press my fingers into my mug. "Maybe... I wasn't learning anything. Maybe school isn't right for me."
"Elizabeth Marie Wilder! You are not dropping out of college because a guy broke your heart."
"It's not because of a guy. It's becaus
e the classes are worthless. I'm better off getting a junior programmer job somewhere. I'll learn more."
"I don't believe you."
I stare into my coffee, willing some kind of contentment to form in my expression. It's all true. I was thinking about skipping college for an internship before I got that scholarship to Stanford.
"Blake's gotten better about work. Maybe Nick can—"
I stare her down. "Why do you care anyway?"
"You were happy last time you talked about him. I want you to be happy."
I study her expression. There's something she's not telling me. I'm sure of it.
"Is that all?" I ask.
"He sounded so worried about you, Lizzy. Like he really loves you."
"When did he sound worried?"
She blushes, embarrassed. "I might have listened to his voicemails."
"Snooping brat."
"I'll make you pancakes."
"Won't Blake freak about the mess?"
"Let him." She slides into the seat next to me and looks me over like she's inspecting a torn painting. "There's more going on. You can tell me."
"It's the only decision that makes sense." I play with the bottom of my cocktail dress.
"Feelings aren't logical."
"No, but decisions should be."
"Lizzy—"
"I've made up my mind. Now make me pancakes if you want me to forgive you for invading my privacy."
She frowns but gathers a bowl and flour.
I give Kat a few minutes to get started, but she has no idea what she's doing.
I take over the process, measuring, stirring, and flipping until my entire world is pancakes.
I'm almost finished when the intercom buzzes.
Kat excuses herself to answer. "Yes."
The doorman speaks. "Katrina, there's a Mr. Marlowe here to see Miss Elizabeth Wilder about a personal matter."
I can't breathe.
Not now. Not here. Not yet.
She turns to me. "Do you want me to let him in?"
I turn off the stove and take a deep breath to collect my senses. There's no way to stop this. Maybe it's better to get it over with, so it's not hanging over my head all day.
I nod. "Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
Worry flashes over her face, but she turns back to the intercom. "Let him up. But give us two minutes first."
"Of course, Ms. Wilder."
She unlocks the door and makes her way to the kitchen. Her eyes bore into me, examining me the way she examines something she's going to draw.
"You know, if you do love him, you might be able to work this out. Whatever it is," she says.
"I made my decision."
"You look like you're going to cry."
"I have to do this!" I bite my tongue. I can't get upset. That will bring questions, from Nick or from Kat or both. I have to convince them that I'm okay with this.
My stomach twists. It must be the hangover. I tear a pancake in half and stuff it into my mouth. It's perfect. Fluffy and slightly sweet with a warm burst of blueberries.
"Do you want me to go?" she asks.
"You can stay on the couch."
There's a knock on the door. My chest tightens. The room goes cold. I'm not sure I can do this.
Kat answers the door with a polite handshake hello. Nick is ragged. He's still handsome and well-dressed—jeans and a sweater today—but his eyes are tired and he's at least two days without a shave.
He'll be happy soon.
He'll have the company back, and he'll forget about me, and he'll be happy.
That's what I want.
A tear forms in my eye. I wipe it away. I'm not crying. Not yet.
He comes closer, until there are only three feet between us. "Lizzy, what happened?"
"Nothing. I went out dancing with Sarah. I guess I was a little drunk. Just one of those drunk phone calls."
His brow furrows. His eyes fill with doubt. He's not buying this story.
I step back. "It's good you're here though. I have to talk to you about something."
He moves closer. Until he's six inches away. His fingertips slide over the side of my cheek. My body fills with warmth. God, he feels good. I fight my desire to wrap my arms around him. That will only make this harder.
"You've been crying." His voice is soft.
"It's just a hangover."
"You're a terrible liar." He wipes a tear from my eye. "Tell me what's wrong, baby. We can fix it together."
I shake my head.
"We can."
"No, we can't."
"Lizzy—"
I step back, breaking from his touch. At once, I'm cold. My back tenses. My stomach churns.
"Did you come here because you thought I'd come looking for you at your apartment?"
"Did you?"
"Yes." He stares into my eyes. "What happened?"
"I realized something."
Dread spreads over his face.
I want so badly to wipe it away. I want to run my hands through his hair, to wrap my body around his, to soothe him today, and tomorrow, and every day, forever.
But this is the way I can make him happy.
The only way.
I stare back at Nick. "I think we should. No, there's no think, no should." I gather every ounce of strength in my body. "I'm breaking up with you."
Kat jumps towards the bedroom. "I'll give you guys a minute. Sorry." She slams the door shut on her way out of the room.
Nick moves closer. His hands go to my lower back and he pulls my body into his. "Tell me you don't feel something right now." He leans down and presses his lips against mine.
God, how I feel something. I feel everything.
I step back. "I care about you, Nick. That isn't the problem."
"Then what is?"
"Your life is full. You have your company. That's your priority. That's what makes you happy. There's no room for anyone or anything else. And I have a lot on my plate too. Figuring out what I'm doing with school. This relationship was never going to work. It's better if we end it now."
His eyes fill with sadness. "You don't believe that."
"Yes, I do." I try to convince myself. I make my voice as loud and confident as possible. "You'll be happier when you can focus on your work."
"And what about your internship?"
"If it's still there after this sale stuff settles down... I'll ask another one of the programmers to teach me."
"None of them know AI like I do."
"I know." I bite my tongue so I can focus on how much that hurts instead of how much my heart hurts. "I'll find another internship."
His eyes go to the floor. "Is there any way I can change your mind?"
I rack my brain for something, some bone I can throw him so that he can fix this.
Nothing comes.
"You have your priorities," I say. "I have mine."
He steps back. "I respect your decision." His eyes meet mine. He opens his mouth like he's going to speak, but he says nothing.
"I'll walk you out." I press my hands to my sides so I won't be tempted to touch him.
Nick waits until we're at the elevator to speak. He turns to me, his eyes wide with something I don't recognize.
His voice is soft. "This could be forever."
The elevator doors slide open. He steps inside, his eyes on the floor.
"But if this is what you want—" his eyes bore into mine "—I do trust you."
The doors slide shut.
Nick is gone.
I make it all the way to the spare room before I curl into a ball and cry.
Chapter Thirty-One
Kat brings me coffee and breakfast. "Do you want to talk?"
I shake my head and stuff my face with pancakes.
She sits with me until I finish my brunch, then she takes the plates and makes herself scarce.
I lie in bed with my laptop, watching the first season of Battlestar Galactica in
an attempt to think about anything besides Nick. My eyes are tired. I drift in and out of sleep. It's not even a little bit restful.
Mid-afternoon, an email grabs my attention. From Phoenix Marlowe, to the entire Odyssey team. We're off Monday and Tuesday. The sale is still in the air. He'll have final word first thing Wednesday.
That's two days to breathe before I have to see Nick.
Maybe it's enough.
A little after seven, Kat drags me to the living room for dinner. It's something she made herself—pasta with meat sauce and a giant bowl of green salad.
I sit at the table with her and Blake, stabbing my food with my fork and not at all paying attention to the conversation.
When we're finished, I clear the plates and wash the dishes. The scalding water barely makes an impression. I know it's hot, but I'm too numb to feel it.
Kat settles in front of the TV with her sketchbook, half watching a teen soap, half drawing. She pats the spot next to her. I look to Blake for some sign I'm encroaching on his turf.
He slides out of his seat. "I'm going to put in a few hours of work." He goes to the couch to plant a kiss on Kat's lips. "There's a lot to do before the wedding."
She beams. "I love you."
"I love you too."
It's sweet enough to make me sick. I raid the fridge for something to counter the bile rising in my throat. Coffee ice cream. Perfect.
"You want dessert?" I ask no one in particular.
"Sure." Kat kisses Blake again. "None for Blake. He can't get his desk dirty."
He smiles that devious this is really about sex smile. It's been over a year since they met, and they still look at each other like they can't wait to tear each other's clothes off.
It's sweet.
But gross too. I don't need details on my sister's sex life.
I focus on scooping ice cream. Once Kat and Blake are finished with their long goodnight, I make my way to the couch and hand my sister her mug.
The dessert is cold and creamy, but it has no taste. Nothing about it makes me feel good.
Kat sets her half-eaten treat on the coffee table and slides her arm around my shoulder. "You're growing up. You don't tell me everything anymore."
"I haven't told you everything for a long time."
"Still." She glances at the screen. "I'm getting married. You'll go back to Stanford. We'll have our own lives."
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