Chapter 20: The Space Between Us

Selene

The flight isn’t even halfway through and I’m already regretting everything, I shouldn’t have come with Adrian and rushed in to this . I shouldn't have let my guard down.

I booked the ticket in a daze , barely remembering how I packed or what I even packed. I just remember my heart pounding as I requested an Uber, hands trembling so badly I had to re-enter my address three times.

Now I’m staring out the tiny oval window, watching the lights of the city shrink beneath the clouds, and my thoughts just won’t stop.

I hate this. I hate her.and myself for falling for Adrian.

But most of all, I hate that some part of me still wants him to chase after me. Even after the text. Even after he ran off to her without looking back.

I swipe at my eyes and pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders. My phone is off, buried at the bottom of my purse like it’s some kind of toxin. I can’t handle seeing his name flash across the screen. Not yet.

So I sit in silence, crying in the dark cabin, heartbroken somewhere over middle America.

Adrian

I burst into my apartment just after midnight, already knowing what I’m going to find—but praying I’m wrong.

The lights are off. Her shoes by the door are gone. The faint smell of her perfume still lingers in the bedroom, and the half-made bed makes it worse somehow. Like we were just here—together—and now she’s vanished into thin air.

“Selene?” I call out, even though I know she isn’t here .

Nothing.

I go to her suitcase spot in the closet. It’s Empty.

Panic claws at my chest.

I try calling and it goes straight to voicemail.

I text her: Hey Selene, please call me as soon as you get this . I’ve got back and found you’ve left. We need to talk. Please talk to me. I can explain. I choose you.

No response.

I sit down on the edge of the bed and stare at the darkened screen, phone still in my hand, not even breathing properly.

I don’t sleep that night or eat. I just sit there, waiting for her to come back—or for my phone to light up.

But she doesn’t come. And she doesn’t call or read my texts .

By sunrise, I’m a mess. I call Jonathan the second I know he’s awake.

He picks up with a yawn. “Jesus, bro. You sound rough.”

“I haven’t slept. Where’s Selene?”

“She left yesterday. I think she flew home.”

My voice cracks. “Did she say anything to you?”

A pause. “Only that she needed space. She didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I messed up,” I admit. “Bianca showed up. She said she’s pregnant. And then… Selene just left. ”

“You let her walk out the door, Adrian.”

“I had to go to the hospital Jon. And when I got back she was gone”

“I get it, but do you think that matters to Selene right now? You let your past crash into her face. She’s proud, man. You know that.”

I groan and run a hand through my hair. “Is she coming back to the office today?”

“I don’t know if she will come in this morning” Jonathan says quietly. “But I do know this: she didn’t want to waste time waiting around for you to figure your shit out.”

I close my eyes.

“She is going in my place to meet with John Wickem. They’re having lunch today.”

My eyes snap open. “What? John?, as in that douche bag who couldn't keep his eyes off her ?."

Jonathan sighs. “Yeah. he requested her. Specifically.”

My chest tightens. I remember the way John looked at her. That smug, appreciative glint in his eye.

“She’s vulnerable right now,” I say slowly.

Jonathan’s voice hardens. “Then you’d better get your shit together. Because if you lose her to a guy like John, that’s on you.”

Selene

I get home at some ungodly hour , and barely sleep. I had called Jonathan and he asked me to meet John Wickhem for lunch to go over the project. I agreed because I hoped that that would take my mind off this crazy situation I've found myself thrust into. John Wickhem is charming. Too charming.

He’s wearing an expensive suit and a cologne that smells like wealth and recklessness. When I walk into the restaurant, he stands up with a dazzling smile and kisses my cheek and pulls out my chair.

“Selene,” he says smoothly, “it’s good to see you. I have to say, I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.”

“Really ? Why is that ?”, I reply, keeping my tone cool.

“You intrigue me , you are strong smart and beautiful ,” he grins. “Everything I’ve ever wanted and when I want something I don't hesitate to go after it and I usually get what I want .” He states like it's no big deal.

I stare at him and choose to ignore his statement .

I force a cool smile and sit. My appetite is nonexistent, but I push through and we order lunch and John insists on an expensive bottle of wine. . He makes easy conversation, weaving in compliments so effortlessly I almost don’t notice how many there are.

“You have a sharp mind and elegance. It's a dangerous and intoxicating combination,” he says, swirling his wine while he undresses me with his eyes.

I nod politely, distracted. My phone is still off in my bag.

Because I can’t deal with him. Not right now. But I can't help but wonder if he has texted me .

I don't want to turn it on to find out, because if I let myself read his messages, I might forgive him.

And I’m not ready for that. Not when the pain is still so fresh.

Not when there’s a chance he’s still tethered to someone else—someone who’ll never let go.