I stare at him. “But … you took Hamlet.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“So you lied to me?”
“No, I never told you I took it. You just assumed I would.”
I’m so close to screaming my head off, it’s scaring me. “When exactly were you going to tell me? On your way to the airport?”
He looks down at his hands. “I’ve tried to find the courage to tell you dozens of times. Then I think about actually leaving, and this … hole … opens up inside me, and it hurts too much for me to even think about it.”
It hurts him too much to tell me he’s leaving me?!
My throat constricts as pain spills into my chest like molten heartache. I try to slow down my breathing. To push down my anger. I can’t.
“Fuck you, Ethan! I offered to pass on Portrait to save us, and you wouldn’t let me!”
“Portrait isn’t the problem!” he says and steps toward me. “Even Connor isn’t the problem. The problem is me, and how you are when you’re with me. It’s not healthy, Cassie. I want to give you so much, but all I do is take, and I’m going to end up like a lead weight around your ankles. You can’t tell me you don’t already feel it happening.”
“So you’re leaving? Running away like that’s a solution?”
“I don’t know what else to do.”
“You could stay! Fight for us. For me.”
“I have been fighting! And losing! Don’t you fucking get it? You’re better off without me. You always have been. I was just too in love with you to admit it. Now I’m doing the only thing I can think of, and you should be fucking grateful you’ll finally be free of me.”
He’s panting and wet-eyed. I’m trembling with emotion.
There’s so much I want to say to him, but it jumbles and trips over itself until I’m left with nothing. No clever barbs. No entreaties. No begging him to change his mind.
Nothing.
Nothing.
No. Thing.
My heart beats like a living wound inside me. I close my eyes against the pain.
After a few breaths, bitterness floods my system, and I finally go numb.
It’s strange. Like a natural anesthetic.
When I open my eyes and look at him, I feel impassive and cold. Shut down. Part of me registers that I’ve gone into shock, but I don’t care.
I shrug. “I guess that’s it, then.”
“Cassie…”
“You’re going to miss graduation.”
“If there was any other way—”
“Have a good trip. I’m sure you’ll be a fantastic Mercutio.”
I turn to leave. When I’m almost at the front door, he yells, “Wait!”
I stop but don’t turn around. I feel him behind me, close but not touching.
“Cassie, I…” He exhales and it ruffles my hair. “I hate this. I hate myself. Please…”
He touches my hand, but I pull back like his fingers burn. Then I do what I should have done months ago. I walk away from him and don’t look back.
Present Day
New York City, New York
Graumann Theater
We walk out of the theater, exhausted. Besides doing the show every night, we’ve been coming in during the day to make sure Ethan’s understudy is fully prepared to go on tomorrow night.
Working with Nathan has been interesting. He’s an excellent actor, and even though our chemistry is very different, I think the audience will still respond to it.
Ethan has been surprisingly cool about our love scenes and even gave Nathan some advice about where to grab my butt to make lifting me easier. When I saw he was totally fine, it gave me the confidence to relax and just do my job. At that point, I could swear I heard Marco breathe a sigh of relief.
Ethan and I walk home in silence, hands occasionally touching. The familiar ache of wanting him stirs and intensifies. It gets steadily worse as the hours count down to his departure. My panic adds to the mix and demands I do something about it. Touch him. Kiss him. Remind him of all the ways I can make him happy, so he doesn’t even consider not coming back.
When we reach my apartment, we both shuffle nervously. This is going to be good-bye, and that thought makes my veins run with ice.
“So…” he says, and gives me a smile. “I guess I’ll see you in a week.”
“You’re going to be amazing. Enjoy yourself, okay?”
“I’ll try.”
We stare at each other for a few seconds before he steps forward and hugs me.
His breath is warm on my neck as he whispers, “I’m going to miss you so fucking much. Promise we’ll talk every day.”
“We will.”
“You and Nathan are going to be great together.”
“I’m still going to fantasize that he’s you.”
“Good.” He pulls back. “I love you.” He kisses my forehead, and I lean into his chest.
When he steps away, I almost lose it. The disconnect is immediate and painful.
“Stay,” I say as step toward him. “Come in and have some wine, or whatever. Stay for a while.”
He puts his arms around me. “If I come in, I won’t want to leave.”
I stroke his jaw. “Then stay all night. Your flight doesn’t leave ’til tomorrow.”
He tightens his arms, and sighs. “Cassie … we can’t.”
“Why not? I want you. You want me.”
“Your therapy—”