Reeve’s face drops, and he scrubs a hand over his stubbly jawline. “You’re going away for five months?”
He says that like it’ll be any different than last year when I barely saw him at all. It won’t make any difference to Reeve whether I’m in L.A. or Ireland or Timbuktu. “At least. If I like it, I’ll probably stay during summer break too,” I explain. Audrey said she’ll come visit me this summer if I’m still there. “As for why, I think that’s obvious. I need to heal, and I can’t do that in L.A. I need to go someplace the media won’t find me. I need to leave all the noise behind.”
“Leave me behind, you mean,” he says in a pained voice.
I wet my dry lips, refusing to hide the truth even if I know my words will hurt him. “Yes. I can’t put you and our relationship behind me when your face is everywhere and reminders of you are everywhere.”
He grabs my hand, and the familiar tingling across my skin hurts so damn much. “Viv. I love you. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want her. I’ve never wanted her. I only want you.”
I yank my hand back, tucking both hands under my arms so he can’t pull that maneuver again. “I don’t want to leave on bad terms, Reeve. I will never forget what you did, but maybe one day I can find a way to forgive you. You’re a free agent now. You can be with her with a clear conscience.” It kills me to say that, and the thought of him being with her permanently might very well do me in, but I’ll be thousands of miles away, blissfully ignorant, and that’s the way I prefer it. Setting him free will ultimately help to set me free too, so that’s why I’m doing this.
“Viv, please, just hear me. I don’t want her,” he blurts. “She means nothing to me and you’re everything.” He grabs fistfuls of his hair. “You’re fucking everything, Viv.” Tears stream down his face, and it’s so hard not to comfort him, but I can’t get drawn back in.
“You made a lot of mistakes that hurt me, but I don't want to hold on to the hurt and the pain. I don't want our relationship to be defined by our final days. I hope someday to be able to look back and remember the good times, because there were a lot of those.” I am nowhere near ready to face that, but in the future, I hope the pain will ease and I can cherish the happy times and remember Reeve the way I want to remember him.
“This isn't the end, Viv. Please, baby. I can’t lose you.”
I exhale heavily, rubbing my throbbing temples. “Reeve, stop. Please stop. I can’t do this again. You’re making this harder.” I drag in deep breaths as I fight to maintain the tenuous hold on my emotions. “I didn’t want to leave without telling you in person, and now I’ve told you.” I turn to go, and he pulls me into his arms.
“Please, Viv. Please don’t say it’s the end. It’s not the end. It can’t be. I’m not going to stop fighting for you.”
Wracking sobs rip from my chest as I wrench myself from his arms. The scent of his cologne, the feel of his strong arms around me, the warmth emanating from his masculine body—it’s all too much. I can’t take it, and Mom was right. I shouldn’t have come here. It’s undone the little progress I’ve made in the intervening weeks since our breakup.
“If you love me, you won’t fight, Reeve. You’ll do this one thing for me,” I sob, backing away from him. “Look what you’ve done to me! I’m destroyed.” I openly cry, done pretending. “I’m so lost and in so much pain. Please just let me go. Let me go, and don’t come looking for me. Don’t contact me, because clinging to what we had won’t help either of us,” I whisper.
“I hate what I’ve done to you. What I’ve done to us, and I will get you back because I love you too much to let you go forever.” He clasps my face in his hands, brushing my tears away as his fall. “But I’ll give you space. Take whatever time you need. I'll wait for you.”
I shake my head and remove his hands. “No. I don't want any loose ends. We are over, Reeve.”
Determination glints in his gaze. “Not for good, Viv. Never for good.”
“I don't know what the future holds, but I can't go to Ireland with things hanging in the air. The past two years of my life have been spent in limbo waiting for you, and I can't do it anymore. For my sanity, I need a clean break. If you love me, you’ll stop fighting my decision. You need to let me go. I can't heal otherwise.”
He opens and closes his mouth a few times before speaking. “Okay, if that’s what you want, but this isn't goodbye, Viv. Only goodbye for now.”
His stubborn determination knows no bounds. He can believe what he wants, because it doesn’t matter. This is over, and I’m done letting his choices dictate mine. I won’t be making any promises, and I’m done arguing. “I need to go, or I’ll miss my flight.”
“Take care of yourself. I’ll be thinking of you.”
My eyes lock on his. “I’m not saying this to hurt you, but I’ll be trying not to think about you at all.”
“I deserve that.” His sad eyes drop to my chest. “You’re not wearing your locket.”
“It hurts too much to look at it, and I meant what I said about a clean start.”
He takes a step closer, peering deeply into my eyes. “Someday, I’m going to correct my mistakes and win back your heart. I won’t stop until I prove I’m worthy of your love again.”
I can’t respond to that, and I need to get out of here before I throw caution to the wind and take everything back. Reeve has always been a true romantic. He always has the right words at the right time. But loving words and promises aren’t enough to extinguish the deep-seated pain of his betrayal. Still, I came here to leave things on an amicable footing, and I’m determined to do that. I cup his face one last time, and he leans into my touch. “Be happy, Reeve. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”
With one last look, I walk off, grateful that he doesn’t chase after me.
The next part of the story takes place in Ireland. There is a glossary at the back of this book you can refer to, which includes some explanations of local words/phrases and Irish/Gaelic pronunciations. We phrase some things differently, so if some of the Irish characters’ dialogue seems a little odd, that is why!
27
The flight lands in Dublin at seven a.m. local time, and as I disembark, I promise myself I’m leaving my tears and my melancholy behind on the plane. The nighttime flight helped, but I found it hard to sleep with the eight-hour time difference and the fact my broken heart took a severe beating earlier today. Having Audrey say goodbye at LAX was a disastrous move too. Leaving my bestie behind only added to my distress.
I spent the first two hours of the ten-and-a-half-hour flight trying to fight tears and the next two hours trying to disguise my sobs from the other passengers. Being in first class helped, and the Aer Lingus flight attendant was super sweet and attentive when she noticed I was upset. Still, it’s embarrassing, and I need to get a grip. I’m just lucky no one on the plane seemed to realize who I was.
I’m yawning as I move through passport control, but I perk up as I get my first proper look at Ireland through the large windows as I walk with other passengers toward the arrival hall. Gray skies and rain peer back at me, and it’s kind of reassuring. If everything about Ireland is as expected, I think I’ll really enjoy my time here.
Out in the arrivals area, I scan the space, my eyes inspecting all the cards held aloft until I spot one that says GRACE MILLS. As an extra precaution, I’ve decided to use my middle name here. Just in case any locals or visiting tourists make the connection. Pushing my luggage cart toward the rotund man in the ill-fitting black suit, I battle a sudden rush of butterflies.
I can’t believe I’m here.
That I’ve really done this.
Excitement combines with nerves as I approach my driver. His name tag says Micheál, which I’m assuming is a Gaelic name.
“Hi. I’m Grace Mills.”
“Howya, love. Aren’t you a right looker?” Grabbing my hand, he vigorously shakes it.