Page 163 of Sour Notes

I have to stop him before I fold.

I want nothing more than to tell him the truth. To sob in his arms until he promises to make it all okay.

But he can’t make this okay.

He can’t make me okay.

I have to learn to do that alone.

By letting him go once and for all.

“Fisticuffs.” I use the safe word I jokingly suggested what seems like months ago.

I never thought I’d need it.

Pain seeps into his gaze as he closes his eyes, hiding them from me. The muscle in his jaw pulses so violently, I physically have to fight the urge to cup my hand over it.

Another tear trickles down my cheek and he swipes it away with his thumb and brings his forehead down to mine.

The move is so achingly familiar, so like home… but he’s using it to say goodbye now. He nods, mumbling the word “enough” just loud enough for me to hear before pressing his lips to my forehead.

I stare after him as he walks back down the walkway towards our room, his head down and shoulders slumped. Mario stops him, but from where I’m standing, I can’t hear what they’re saying.

I shrink back into the darkness, pulling his jacket up to my nose as the tears fall faster now, blinding me entirely.

How did I manage to break an already broken heart so badly?

35

SWAYZE

Iallow myself one last look at Mia’s unguarded, tear-streaked, sleeping face before I leave her a note and force myself to walk away for the last time.

She’s still in her bridesmaid dress with my suit jacket wrapped tightly around her, her hands holding it to her face.

Part of me wants to kid myself into believing that means something. That she’s holding it there so she can smell me, but that’s bullshit.

Haven’t I fooled myself enough?

Didn’t I say, coming into this, she’d either break my heart or break my dick?

Joke’s on me. She’s done both.

There’s no way I can stay here and pretend for another two days. How can I fake the smiles, holding and kissing her, like my heart isn’t trampled and bleeding under her feet?

I might be gone for her, but I’m not a fucking idiot.

Enough is enough.

I just wish I understood. How could she look me in the eye and tell me last night was fake?

She said she was mine. Looked right into my soul when she did. No one else was around. She wasn’t screaming to prove something to the asshole next door.

It was just us.

But clearly, I’m wrong. Obviously seeing things that aren’t really there.

Transference? Isn’t that what they call it?