by Cindi Madsen
“We just kept getting interrupted, and I know that’s not good enough. I’m just hoping it means something.”
His fingers brushed down my arm, featherlight. “By the way, how’d it go with Paige? I didn’t have a chance to ask.”
“We talked. Cried some.” My voice came out croaky. Weak. My knees trembled and my hands weren’t so steady, either. I wanted to turn around to face him, but if I did that, I might forget that he’d lied and I couldn’t trust him, and I shouldn’t still feel our connection pulsing between us, begging me to do something to make it stop pulsing and flow freely again.
Sorry, body. Sorry, heart. You guys aren’t the best judges of character.
I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms to redirect the pain there and keep myself on guard. “I told her that I forgave her, but things won’t ever be the same, and if you think that if I forgave her, I can just forgive you, too, then—”
“Not why I asked,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I don’t feel okay. That same sense of betrayal I felt when I found Kyle and Paige is burning through me again. I told myself I’d never let anyone play me for a fool ever again.”
“I don’t think you’re a fool. You’re so smart I doubt I’ll ever be able to quite keep up with your beautiful brain, but I know I want to try. You’re funny and kind and so perfect that this whole trip felt like an amazing dream I never wanted to wake up from. That’s just part of why I want to be with you, and I’d be the fool if I walked away without begging for your forgiveness.”
“Ev—Ethan. Dammit.” A couple tears spilled down my cheeks. “Don’t you get it? You’re the one I fell for.”
He sucked in a sharp breath. His arms came around me and I flinched, telling myself that I couldn’t, under any circumstance, fall into the comfort of his embrace.
“And you’re the one who broke my heart,” I finished. Misery rushed through me, slamming into the dam holding back my tears and releasing the floodgates.
“Shit, I’m so sorry. You have no idea how sorry.” His arms tightened. “Don’t go. We’ve got to be able to work this out. Just tell me how—I’ll do anything.”
“It’s over, Ethan.”
He made a low sound in his throat, like my saying his name was a relief and yet left him completely tormented at the same time. Saying it felt that way, too.
“Guinevere, please.”
Man, that hurt, the misery inside of me growing fangs and sinking them into me until internal bleeding seemed imminent. “I can’t. Just let me go.” I threw the word he’d used back at him. “Please.”
He pressed his lips to the back of my neck, then dropped his arms and took a large step back. “I’ll give you some space. But I’m never gonna let you go.”
30 Gwen
“I need you to at least pretend to enjoy our show,” Tori said. “You didn’t even drool over Elijah, and he’s doing some really deadly stuff while maintaining his gentlemanly edge.”
I pulled my gaze off the TV. Not that I’d seen any of the show. She could’ve told me that everyone had just died, and I’d be like well, that’s too bad. In addition to not being fully present, my emotions had been set to the numb setting. You’d think it’d be nice, but it was more like… drifting. Pointlessly drifting, at that.
All day long I faked it at work, then I came home and pretended to be okay.
Tori turned to me. “Listen, love, I’ve tried to give you some time, but it’s been two weeks since I picked your sad butt up from the airport, and you’re starting to scare me. If you miss him that much—”
My head jerked up, my eyes doing a combo of pleading and threatening for her to not say it. When Ethan emailed me a flight itinerary, I’d wanted to tell him he could shove his plane ticket bribe up his very nice ass.
Except I wouldn’t have added the “very nice,” even if it was true.
But I’d needed a way to get home in time for work the following Monday morning, and I hadn’t wanted to go back home and explain to my parents or my friends what’d happened. Even when I’d told Tori the whole story it sounded like this twisted, tawdry soap opera that couldn’t possibly be true.
Sometimes I wished I’d imagined it. Or even made it up.
Yet thinking of the time Ethan and I spent together as “not real” also made this awful ache seize hold of my chest. In short, I was a freaking mess.
“Did he call today?” Tori asked.
My chin tried to quiver, but I forced it to remain firm. “No.” I knew that eventually he’d give up. Two weeks was admirable. And since seeing his name on my phone screen hurt, I’d begged him to stop calling. I’d gone to block his number a dozen times. I could never quite follow through, and I didn’t want to analyze that, either.
How could I miss someone who’d deceived me and hurt me so badly?
I hadn’t seen Evan, either. He’d texted once, just a simple I really am sorry. I know it’s a cliché line, but I really would like to stay friends.
“So that was the goal, right?” Tori arched an eyebrow. “Which means you’re glad he didn’t?”
I would’ve appreciated a less skeptical tone, as well as that question mark on the end of her statement, but I decided to pretend they weren’t there. “Of course. I need to move on.”
She sighed like I was being difficult.
“Are you saying I should just be okay with him pretending to be someone else?”
Tori held up her hands. “I’m on your team. I’ve just also never seen you like this. Not even after you found that beeyotch and your douchehole ex in bed together.”
“Not sure calling her a beeyotch fits with how I forgave her and am trying to slowly let her back into my life. Same with the douchehole.”
“Girl, you can go ahead and forgive them, but I’m going to hold on to my grudge forever. It’s my right as your best friend.” She pulled me into a side hug, dropping her head against mine. “Look, as evidenced by my Klaus crush, I’m not totally opposed to guys with a lot of gray area. But I think that if you did happen to give Ethan another chance—and I’m not saying that you should or have to…” Her worlds blurred all together, into a stream that not even I had a chance of interrupting. “But I do think the boy got in over his head, and that he does genuinely care about you. And from everything else you said, he’s not usually a gray area guy. He’s a refined gentleman who sometimes does bad things for his family.” Tori tipped her head toward the screen, where my fictional boyfriend, Elijah Mikaelson, was talking calmly one second and then ripping hearts out of chests the next, all in the name of defending his family.
“It’s okay because he’s a vampire.”
“So you’re saying if Ethan was a vampire you’d forgive him?” Tori tapped a contemplative finger to her lip. “Maybe I’ll tell him to try that next.”
I cocked my head, giving her the narrowed-eyed glare she deserved. “It’s okay because The Originals is fiction.”
“Ah. You have a loophole for everything.” She paused, and my instincts told me I wouldn’t like the next words out of her mouth. “Except the guy you fell in love with.”
“I did not…” Great. My body chose now to lift the numbness so I could experience the full impact of the pain. My heart knotted so tightly that it couldn’t keep pumping, yet it kept on trying, and the only thing it succeeded in getting through my veins was anguish.
It was crazy. I mean, yeah, I fell a little bit for Ethan, but that was because we’d fast-forwarded all the beginning stuff—the part where I’d been dating his freaking brother—to the already intimate phase.
Tori propped her elbow on the back of the couch and leaned closer. “You were saying?”
“Smug is not a good color on you,” I said.
“Hey, I won’t even make you say that I was right. I can see it written all over your face. And don’t even try to claim it’s because you’d dated Evan and thought it was him. You’re talking to the girl who was trying to convince you t
o have sex with your boyfriend because you didn’t feel—and I quote—the thing. If Ethan hadn’t shown up that morning for coffee, you would’ve broken up with Evan. Or Ethan as Evan. Or…” She swiped a hand through the air. “Let’s not focus on that, because it’s confusing as shit.”
“At least we agree on something.”
“But what’s important is how you feel about Ethan. It might be complicated, but it’s not confusing, and you know I’m right. I’m not saying forgive him. I’m saying maybe see what he says. Find out how good he is at groveling and give him, like, half a chance. Then decide if you forgive him.”
My mind often tortured me with snippets of our trip. Of the sparks and the kisses and opening up to each other. Of breaking into the pool and the way he’d worshiped me with his tongue. Don’t think about that. But what rose up right now—what got to me most—was that moment in the hotel shortly after I’d found out exactly who I’d spent the road trip with and the betrayal was so fresh it was shredding my insides. The moment when, in spite of being in the middle of a mess and me telling him to leave, he’d still asked how it’d gone with Paige. He’d held on to me with this combination of tenderness and fierceness, comforting me while also clinging to me like I was his lifeboat in a storm.
Then he’d said my name. As I’d told him the night of the carnival, I wasn’t sure I liked Guinevere, but when he said it… My heart swelled in my chest, filling with all things Ethan. I squeezed my eyes closed, attempted a centering breath that didn’t help, and then looked at my best friend. The girl who’d never shied away from saying things like they were, no filter or tiptoeing around my feelings. After being stabbed in the back, I admired even more how she was always like this is who I am, and I don’t give a shit if you like it or not.
Maybe she was right. Maybe I had fallen in love. Not that I was ready to admit that yet and hear I told you so. “Even if I did decide to give him a chance… I can’t be the girl who accidentally fell for the brother of her boyfriend. Say it did actually work out, what would I tell my children and grandchildren when they asked how we fell in love?”
I added a little age and wisdom to my voice as I mimicked what that’d be like. “Oh well, you see he pretended to be his brother who was my boyfriend at the time, and then we had this amazing road trip where I felt things I’d never felt before. Oh, and he gave me the best orgasm of my life after breaking into a hotel pool.”
“I’d probably leave the orgasm thing out until they turned eighteen, but otherwise it sounds like a kickass story to me. So much more interesting than we met at a coffeeshop. Or, oh, we had mutual friends. I abhor dullness, you know.” Tori not-so-subtly nudged my phone toward me. She even brought up my contacts so that all I’d have to do to talk to Ethan was tap the tiny phone icon.
My fingers twitched with the urge to do so. I forced my palms flat against my thighs. “I can’t trust him, T. And I can’t be in a relationship where there’s no trust, no matter how tempted I am to try.” My eyes watered, unable to help themselves. “My heart can’t take it. Not after what it already had to go through between my last relationship and what happened with Evan and Ethan.”
Just like that, Tori pushed my phone aside and grabbed my hand. “Okay. Then I won’t bring it up again. Even if your broken heart breaks mine, too.”
“It’ll heal in time.”
I could’ve used a smidge more conviction than the placating hand pat, but like I said, I loved Tori because she wouldn’t lie to me.
Maybe I’d never fully heal. Maybe I’d be the girl who was always a little in love with the funny, caring, liar-pants lawyer who’d driven me home for one of my best friend’s weddings.
But someone once told me I could take on the world if I decided to, and while he did have that gray area problem that resulted in our breakup—or was it not an official breakup since he’d never technically been my boyfriend? Anyway, regardless of the complications, I believed he’d been telling the truth about having faith in me.
I’d hold on to that, claim that it was one of those things I’d learned from a past relationship, and get over this sucky bump in the road of life.
I’d move on. Eventually, I’d even attempt another relationship. After I asked the guy if he had a twin brother, that was.
31 Ethan
A week and a half into my new job, and I was finally starting to feel like I had the hang of things. Well, save the copy machine. Every time I tried to do something as simple as duplicate documents, it’d eat them or spit out a hundred versions of page one. Or it’d jam or smear black ink down everything, including my white shirt.
Yeah, the copy machine was clearly possessed by a demon.
But everything else from the compact desk in the tiny, windowless office to the stack of paperwork that’d take me approximately a month to go through but had to be done by the end of the week… All of that was exactly what I’d always pictured when I’d decided to become a lawyer.
In other words, I had everything I’d always wanted.
And it felt so damn empty. I gripped the armrest of my cushy chair, bracing myself for the destructive ping pong ball that’d beat up my insides, awakening all the regret that refused to be shoved away.
This giant piece was missing, and that piece was named Gwen.
With that, the words on the document in front of me swam together, and I tossed the file I’d been going through onto my desk and raked a hand through my hair. Since I’d reached the end of my coffee cup a while ago, I decided to pack up and call it a day.
Gwen loved coffee. If only I had an ounce of her energy, coffee or not.
Even in court, it’d be handy to talk as fast as she could. To twist up my opposition with so many words they wouldn’t know which ones to address first.
I bit back a smile, even as more regret crept up to bind my chest. God, I missed her. I’d called her once a day for two weeks, alternating between morning, midday, and night, as if that’d make a difference. There’d even been a drunk dialing incident around midnight when I’d been feeling especially desperate, which counted as calling her twice on one of the days, although I wasn’t sure which one, so I figured it could be a freebie.
Not that it felt like a freebie. None of the calls did. Every single unanswered one drained more of my hope, until I wasn’t sure I had any left. I didn’t want to give up, but the past few days, I couldn’t bring myself to dial her number and have the call roll to voicemail where any messages I left would go to die.
Sticky night air, only slightly cooler than it’d been during the day, hit me as I pushed out of the building where I worked. I told myself not to give in to temptation and make the move I’d made more often than I cared to admit, but my thumb didn’t obey, tapping the photos app on my phone. Under favorites were the pictures I’d snapped at the lighthouse: Gwen, way too close to the lighthouse railing, the ocean behind her; Flashing me a dimpled smile and heated look that spoke to the make out session we’d had shortly before I’d taken the picture; and the final one with her lips pressed against my cheek.
If I closed my eyes, I could almost feel her soft lips. Smell her perfume. Hear her laugh.
Almost wasn’t enough, though. I didn’t want only muted memories; I wanted the real thing.
I’d stopped by her apartment about a week after our trip, and Tori informed me that Gwen wasn’t there, and that as far as I was concerned, she’d moved to merry old England.
I’d begged for help, telling her that I’d do anything for a few minutes of Gwen’s undivided attention—I just needed to see her and to talk to her, so that at least I could say I’d given it my all. I swore there was something almost encouraging in Tori’s eyes as she’d told me she’d file a restraining order against me if I showed up again. Confusing as hell, and I didn’t know what to do with it.
I did know that if a restraining order was taken out against me during my first month of working at a law firm, I probably wouldn’t have a job anymore. That should probably deter me from conside
ring another drop by, either her apartment or work, more than it did.
Over these last couple of days, I’d entertained the thought of just cutting my losses. Like my brother, I didn’t deserve Gwen. And if she needed to move on…
Lead filled my lungs and gut, spreading its heavy effect to my legs and making it harder to climb into my car. After debating back and forth for a few minutes while on the road, I turned down the street that’d take me to my apartment.
And away from Gwen.
I was pushing inside of my place when the loud growl of an engine caught my attention. My brother’s Camaro pulled into a parking spot, and I sighed. He and I had given each other space after the road trip from hell. Nothing emphasized how shitty and long a road trip could be like going from sharing it with the perfect woman to sharing it with your pissed-off brother.
Not that he was the only pissed-off one. It’d been dead silent, only the occasional remark about gas stations, bathroom breaks, and grabbing food.
The knock on my apartment door made me sigh again. I jerked at the knot in my tie, loosening it as I swung open the door. “Yeah?”
Evan patted my chest, nice and hard. “Nice to see you, too, bro.” He strolled on in, no waiting for an invitation. “You never came to collect for your first month’s rent. Want me to write a check?”
My laugh came out edged with bitterness. As mad as I was at him for blowing our switcheroo scheme to hell by showing up, I didn’t hold him for responsible for wrecking things with Gwen. That was all me. Didn’t mean I was happy to see him, even if this tiny part of me missed him and the relationship we used to have—the one we had when he wasn’t pulling stunts. “No thanks.”
“The asshole in me wants me to say good, because you already took enough from me, but I’m trying to repress that side a little more. Be a grownup and all that.”
I nodded, not wanting to go near that landmine. I already felt shitty enough from walking around broken, and I was done getting involved in things that’d inevitably blow up in my face.