Seeing her tonight has brought it to a sickening climax for me. I need to speak to her. I can’t stand the thought that I hurt her or knowing that she doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.
Fuck, I handled things so badly at the end. I pace back and forth for over an hour with my mind in turmoil. I stare up at her window, hoping she can see me down on the street, imagining that she comes down to see me and kisses me as she jumps into my arms, but I know she wouldn’t, even if she could see me.
I take out my phone and stare at it. I click on her name and scroll through the messages we have sent each other. I would give anything for one of those goodnight messages right now. I look back up at her window.
Fuck it. I dial her number.
It rings for a long time. I am just about to hang up.
“Hello,” her sleepy voice whispers.
A smile crosses my face at the sound of her voice. “Hello, Emmaline.”
She pauses. “Alastar.” Her voice is emotionless.
Silence hangs between us as I stand in the darkness.
“You’re okay?” I ask softly.
“Yes.”
“Are you still feeling unwell?” I hold my breath as I wait for her answer.
She hesitates. “I was never sick, Alastar. I needed an excuse to leave the party.”
My heart drops. “Why?”
“Because I didn’t want to see you.”
I stay silent, her rejection cutting through me like a knife.
“I see,” I whisper quietly.
More silence.
“I should let you go,” I murmur.
She hesitates. “Is there something you wanted to say, Alastar?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I reply softly.
I know what I want to say. I also know I shouldn’t.
“Goodbye, Emmaline.”
The phone goes dead.
I blow out a steadying breath and place my hands on my head in disappointment as I continue to pace.
Emerson
I sit at the kitchen table and drink my tea. It’s 6am and I have hardly slept. I feel like shit, to be honest. When I got home last night I vented to poor Brielle for an hour over the phone about the Irish Fiasco. Then, after a string of violent strobe lights flashing in my eyes, I finally fell asleep, only to be woken up when Alastar rang me. I haven’t been able to fall back to sleep since. God, I wanted to see him last night. I would have given anything to hear him ask to see me—to give me an explanation—to heal my poor, broken heart. I keep seeing him sitting at the table at the fundraiser so unaffected and so damn freaking gorgeous.
Vanessa comes out of her room in a rush. “Crap, I slept in.”
I frown. “Where are you going at his hour?”
“I’m filling in for a breakfast shift for someone.”
“What time were you supposed to be there?”
She looks at her watch. “Now.”
She rushes around and grabs her bag, taking her phone from her charger and opening the front door in a rush. “See you,” she calls. “Fucking hell!” she yells.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I hear the Irish accent say.
I frown.
“What the heck are you doing?” she snaps. “I nearly tripped over you.”
“I’m sorry. My apologies,” I hear him say as he disappears down the steps.
I stand and rush to the door.
“That weird guy was just asleep on our doorstop.”
“W-who?” I stammer, wide-eyed.
“That Irish knob.” I lean over the stair rail and, sure enough, see Alastar running down the stairs in double time to escape.
What the fuck?
I take off after him. “Alastar?” I call as I run down the stairs.
He doesn’t stop as he disappears down the staircase.
“Alastar!” I call again. He keeps going and I run faster down the stairs. What the hell was he doing here?
I hear the front door open and I run down the bottom two flights and burst out into the cool morning air after him. The sun is just rising and it’s freezing with morning dew blanketing the streets. I look up and down the street and see him walking away, still in his suit from last night. Fog is steaming in front of his mouth as he breathes.
“Alastar!” I call. “Stop… Please, stop.”
He freezes and stays facing away from me, his hands in his pockets and his head bowed.
I run up behind him on the street. “What are you doing?” I call.
He turns to face me, but he doesn’t say anything.
I stop and put my hands onto my hips as I try to catch my breath. Holy shit, I am so unfit. I pant like I am about to have a heart attack.
My eyes search his. “You slept outside my apartment?”
He nods once.
I frown. “Why?”
He hesitates and swallows the lump in his throat. “Because… I miss you.”
Chapter 18
I stare at him as my brain misfires.
His eyes hold mine as he steps towards me.
“I said I miss you, Em.” He hesitates. “Did you hear me?”
I have imagined this exact moment every night for eight weeks. I’ve dreamt that he came to me and professed missing me. We would kiss and I would say it’s okay and everything would be as it should be. But now he is here doing it… I feel nothing but rage.
“How big of you,” I sneer.
His face falls.
I shake my head in disgust. “Go home, Alastar.”