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My phone rings, and I pick up, desperate for an excuse to bail. “Just a sec, Gia.” I put her on mute. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell him.
“I’ll pick you up for the airport.”
I shake my head. “I’ll take a cab.” Harvey would lose his mind if he saw Damon’s Tesla up front.
“Gemma . . .”
“I won’t change my mind. I’ll see you at the airport.”
He must bite his tongue a thousand times—a novelty for Damon. The door pings and he nods, leaning forward, giving me a lingering kiss on the cheek.
I can hear myself sigh inwardly. My body trembles, though I make it to my car without looking back at him.
I can’t. I can’t do this with him again. I’m afraid of the damage he’ll do to my heart if I give him another chance.
Harvey. You toldHarveyyou’d try.
Foolish, foolish girl.
I search through the house for Harv when I get home.
When I make my way to the kitchen, I spot him and Claire outside on the balcony, both in winter coats. He’s sitting on the wood log instead of his chair.
What is she still doing here? Harvey must’ve known I’d be home by now. A quick glance at my phone tells me I’m a little earlier than usual.
In my bedroom, my suitcase and carry-on bag are behind the door. I’m glad I packed all of it last night.
I open my window to listen to their conversation, knowing they won’t see me from here.
“You hurt me, Harvey. How can you be back with her after everything? You know that I love you!”
The screaming lady in me wants to hit her with shredded glass, but all dark thoughts disappear when I hear the desperation, the love that she has for him in her voice.
I knew she wouldn’t be able to stay away.
“You think I’m not torn? You think I enjoy this?” I can’t see them, but I hear some steps being taken. “Claire, listen to me.”
“No, you lied to me.” She’s crying.
What did he lie about? God, I want to know.
Pain pours out of their voices. If I wasn’t on the receiving end of that heartbreak, I swear to God I’d be rooting for them as a couple.
“I want you—no, please, Claire. Babe, listen to me.”
My heart shatters on my bedroom floor at his words. I don’t know how I stomach listening to more.
“Iwantyou,” he continues. “You must know I do.”
“Maybe she’s right. Maybe I shouldn’t work with you anymore.”
“No. Don’t say that—don’tsay that.”
“Then why stay with her? You can’t have both of us. I won’t have it.”
He sounds like he’s on the verge of a mental breakdown when he says, “Because I need her. I can’t explain it. I just do. She just ... she was there for me through it all, you know?”
I close the window, deciding I’ve had enough.
