Chapter 79
Emily's POV
I stood at the door for several seconds after it clicked shut. Just staring at the wood grain. Like if I focused hard enough I could reverse time. Could undo the last five minutes and make Ethan's devastated face disappear from my memory.
But the door stayed closed. The apartment stayed silent except for my own breathing.
Short. Shallow. Not enough oxygen.
My legs carried me back to the bed without conscious direction. Moving on autopilot while my mind replayed the scene on loop. The way Ethan's hand had connected with the wall. The crack of plaster. The blood welling up across his knuckles while he stood there crying.
Telling me he still wanted me. Even after everything.
Even after I'd proven exactly how right his worst suspicions had been.
I sank down onto the mattress. Pulled my knees up to my chest. Wrapped my arms around them in a posture that felt simultaneously protective and childish.
Alex was still sitting where I'd left him. Shirtless against the headboard with the sheets pooled around his waist. Watching me with an expression I couldn't quite parse through the fog in my head.
"That was him?" he asked quietly. "Ethan?"
I nodded without looking at him. My throat too tight to speak. My whole body starting to shake with fine tremors that began in my hands and radiated outward until my teeth were chattering.
The mattress dipped as Alex shifted closer. I felt his presence against my side. The heat of him.
"What did he want?"
I forced myself to swallow. To push words past the constriction in my chest.
"He came to get me back." My voice sounded hollow. Strange. Like it was coming from someone else's mouth. "He said he made a mistake. That he shouldn't have left. That he was sorry and he—"
My voice cracked. I had to stop. Had to breathe through the wave of nausea.
"He wanted to fix it. Wanted us to try again."
Silence. Then Alex said carefully, "And what did you tell him?"
"The truth." I finally turned to look at him. Found his expression unreadable. Carefully blank in a way that made something twist in my stomach. "I told him I slept with you. That you were here. That I couldn't—"
The words caught in my throat.
"That I couldn't be with him anymore."
Something flickered across Alex's face too quickly for me to identify.
"Did you want to? Be with him?"
I closed my eyes against the sudden sting of tears. Against the memory of Ethan's face when he'd realized what I was telling him. The way his expression had crumpled before he'd hidden it behind anger.
"It doesn't matter what I wanted," I said flatly. "I destroyed it. I can't go back."
"That's not what I asked."
I opened my eyes. Found Alex watching me with an intensity that made me want to look away. But I held his gaze because I owed him that much honesty at least.
"I wanted to," I admitted. "I wanted to take it back. To rewind the last two days and make different choices. To be the person he thought I was instead of—"
I gestured helplessly at myself. At the apartment. At the wreckage of everything I'd built.
"Instead of this."
Alex made a sound that might have been understanding.
"So now what?"
I laughed. Short and bitter.
"Now nothing. Now I get to live with knowing I proved him right. That every suspicion he had about you, about us, about me choosing my career over him—all of it was justified."
I pressed my forehead against my knees. Suddenly exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with lack of sleep.
"Now you're happy, I guess."
The silence stretched long enough that I lifted my head to look at him.
He was watching me with an expression that might have been amusement. Might have been something darker.
"Happy?" he repeated.
There was a slight curve to his mouth now. Just the ghost of a smile.
"Yeah. I'm a little happy."
I stared at him. Of course. Of course he was happy. What other reaction could I have expected from Alex? He'd already admitted what he was. Had told me straight to my face that he was a manipulator. A schemer. Someone who took what he wanted without apology.
I'd known this. Known exactly who he was.
And I'd let him touch me anyway.
I turned away from him. Threw myself down onto the mattress face-first. Buried my face in the pillow that still smelled like him. Like us. Like the complicated mess we'd made of everything.
The fabric muffled the sound that came out of me. Not quite a sob. Not quite a scream. Just this raw noise of frustration and despair and bone-deep exhaustion.
I felt the mattress shift as Alex moved. Felt his hand settle lightly on my back between my shoulder blades.
"Come on," he said. His voice closer now. Right next to my ear. "Cheer up."
I didn't respond. Didn't move. Just lay there with my face pressed into the pillow and tried to remember how to breathe.
His hand moved in slow circles against my back. The touch gentle in a way that made me want to simultaneously lean into it and flinch away.
"Emily." His voice held a note of something I couldn't identify. Amusement, maybe. Or challenge. "Look at me."
I ignored him. Kept my face buried in the pillow. My hands fisted in the sheets.
I didn't want to look at him. Didn't want to see whatever expression he was wearing. Didn't want to face the reality of what we'd become.
His hand stilled against my back.
Then I felt him shift his weight. Felt the mattress dip as he moved closer.
"Hey," he said quietly.
Then his hands were on my shoulders. Turning me over despite my resistance. Rolling me onto my back so I had no choice but to face him.
I kept my eyes closed. My jaw clenched tight.
"Leave me alone," I said.
My voice was weak. Unconvincing.
"No."
The word was simple. Final.
Then his hand was sliding down my side. Over my ribs. Across my stomach.
I felt my breath catch. Felt my body go rigid even as something low in my belly started to coil tight.
"Don't," I said.
But I didn't move to stop him. Didn't open my eyes or push his hand away. Just lay there frozen while his fingers traced lower. Slipping under the hem of the oversized t-shirt I was wearing. Finding bare skin.