“Allison, let me explain.”
“You don’t need to explain, Esben. It’s all right here. I read every message. Steffi went to see you when she was with me at Andrews. The night she went out to pick up Chinese for us, I remember that she was gone way too long . . . she went to you then, didn’t she? And she told you that she was sick, that she was going to die.”
“Yes,” he says somberly.
“And then she asked you to look after me. To get close to me.”
He hesitates. “Essentially. But it was because she wanted—”
“I know what she wanted. She knew that I was alone, so she wanted me to have someone. She saw the video, and she decided to push us together. Steffi also knew the kind of person you are. That you could never say no to something like this, right? You wouldn’t do that.” I look out the window at the glaring sunshine. “You wouldn’t turn down a dying girl’s request,” I state factually.
“No, it wasn’t like that,” he says strongly.
“She set this up. From the minute she saw that video of us, she hatched this plan. So, this supposed relationship you and I have?” Now I turn to him with hurt and unbearable sorrow. “This relationship didn’t happen the way I thought. Not at all. It was an obligation that you had to fulfill. You . . . you made me believe in so much, but none of that really existed, did it? It’s like this was your biggest, grandest, most selfless social experiment, huh? But I know you . . . that can’t be right. Please tell me that can’t be right.”
“Of course that’s not right.” Despite my putting my hands up to stop him, Esben crosses the room and kneels beside me. “You know as well as I do that there was something very real that happened between us before Steffi came into the picture. You know that, Allison. I didn’t know how to handle it when Steffi showed up at my door. I mean, what was I supposed to do? I tried to convince her to tell you what was going on, but she was adamant. I just . . . I told her what she wanted to hear, but I only meant that . . .” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. You know that I pretty much fell in love with you the moment I met you. And everything we’ve built together? Steffi could never make that happen. You and I made that happen. This is real.”
“And this whole time”—I am so confused that I can hardly hear what he’s saying, and I can hardly speak—“this whole time, you knew. You knew she was sick for months before she told me. If I’d known what she was facing, maybe I could have done something. I might have flown out here and ignored the way she was deflecting me. Simon might have been able to convince her. Something. Maybe you loved me, but you still didn’t give me any options.” It’s so hard not to cry. “You did what the dying girl wanted.”
He shakes his head hard. “I would never want to hurt you. I’m so sorry, Allison. I didn’t mean to. I wanted to respect Steffi’s choice. You saw the texts. You saw how many times I tried to get her to tell you herself.”
“You slept with me and—” I stop myself.
Oh no.
Suddenly, my body flips into a panic, and I stand and walk the room while I piece this together. “Maybe Steffi was right.”
“About what?”
I stop and look at him. “We get one. She always said we only get one. Remember I told you that? She was absolutely right. I had her.” I laugh in painful understanding, and I am stretching for air. “I had her, and I switched her out for you. Is that why she died? The world wouldn’t let me have you both? If I hadn’t listened to her . . .” I see what I’ve done now.
Esben shakes his head hard. “Allison, that’s crazy. You know that isn’t true. That is not how the world works.”
“If there hadn’t been a you and me,” I say, mostly to myself, “Steffi wouldn’t have gotten sick again. She’d be alive.”
“No, Allison,” Esben says sharply. “Steffi was going to get sick no matter what. You couldn’t have controlled that. We don’t get to make bargains like that.”
He’s right. Or maybe I’m right. I have no idea. I suppose it doesn’t matter, because Steffi is dead, and nothing will change that.
I pick up my purse. “I have to go,” I say numbly. “I have to go home.”
“No, please don’t leave. You’re not thinking clearly, sweetheart, you’re not.” He touches my arm. “Allison, I love you. I love you with my entire heart. Tell me you believe that.”
I’m afraid that I’m going to start crying and never stop, so I swallow back my tears when I look up at him with unbearable sadness. “I do know that. And I love you, too, Esben. But that isn’t enough now.” My entire being aches like I have never felt before. “Or maybe it’s too much. You will always remind me of Steffi’s death. I’m grateful, more than I can say, for how you got me to Los Angeles. But I will never be able to look at you and not think about Steff. You will always”—now I start to break down—“always break my heart because of what we’ve been through. What we had won’t work anymore.”
“Allison, no. God, please don’t say that.” Esben has tears in his eyes as he tries to take me in his arms.
“No, no, please don’t touch me.” It’s all I can do to hold myself together the little that I am. “I have to go. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’m all screwed up again.”
“You’re not making any sense. Please, just sit down, and we will figure this out,” he pleads.
“I can’t. Esben, I told you ages ago that I was broken. Maybe I wasn’t then, but I definitely am now. This will be better for you in the end. I love you so much, but this will be better.”
I back away from him. Everything is so confusing, so depressing and terrible. Before I can do something stupid, like change my mind, I turn and leave the room. This is the only smart choice I have. There will be no recovery for me or for us.
Somehow, I am in a cab on the way to LAX. I call Simon, and when I hear his voice, I desperately want to cry again, but I don’t.
“Allison?”
It’s seven blocks before I can form words, but he waits. “I need to get home. Dad, I need to get home. Please help me. Please help me. Please help me.”
“Get to the airport. I’ll find you a flight.”
“Please help me,” I keep saying.
“I will.”
CHAPTER 31
BAKED
For two days, I do nothing but cry and take refuge in my bedroom at home. Bruce Wayne barely leaves my side, snuggling and trying to comfort me. He’s big on snoring, and I find the sound oddly soothing. By Tuesday, I am out of bed and probably severely dehydrated, but at least the crying has stopped. Simon has taken the week off work, and he keeps trying to talk to me, but I don’t want to talk. I want to bake. Cookies, cakes, layer bars, custards, pies . . . everything.