A Feast of You (35 page)

“You should pack,” he finally managed to say.

“Fine,” I choked.

I moved past him, heading into the bedroom to start. There was no way I’d actually be able to choose anything appropriate for Paris, but I didn’t know what else to do. My head spun, and my cheeks were wet with tears. I pulled my suitcase out of the cubby in the closet where I’d stowed it. I grabbed a handful of clothes and threw them in. Shoes followed next, then underwear and toiletries. I had no idea what I packed, and I didn’t care. I spied the framed picture of Jace and me in Hawaii that I’d brought to William’s from my condo. I’d never felt comfortable displaying it, so I’d kept nestled among my folded sweaters. I tossed it into my bag.

Laird had followed me into the closet, concern in his doggy eyes. He never liked suitcases because it meant either he or I were going.
Oh fuck, what was I going to do about Laird?
I gave him a hug. He’d be okay here for now. Asa and Anthony would look after him for me. I’d have to figure out the rest when I got back.

I stood up too fast and another wave of dizziness hit me, making my stomach churn and rise. Beads of sweat broke out on my forehead, and I had to lean against the wall and close my eyes until the room stopped spinning.

I headed to the darkroom next. Beckett had my cameras and most of my location stuff since I’d left it all at the studio for the WML Champagne shoot, but there was still some equipment here I’d need in Paris. William’s thoughtful hand was all over this room, and my tears started in earnest as I looked at the beautiful space he’d made for me. I quickly shoved what I thought I needed into various bags and got out of there as quickly as possible.

Finally, I emerged with two overstuffed camera bags on one shoulder, my laptop bag and my purse on the other, and my suitcase rolling behind me, ready to leave. William stood in the living room, my surfer photograph above the fireplace staring down at us, looking so wild and out of place in the stark room. William had tried to act like the Cat Ryder photograph fit right in with his museum-quality collection of modern art gracing the walls throughout the penthouse. But it never had. Just like I had never really fit right into his life. Believing it to be true didn’t mean it was true, as much as we both might have wished it did.

William watched me with cold eyes and made no move to stop me. I couldn’t believe this was happening. The man I loved wasn’t just letting me go without a fight—he was pushing me out the door, all because he was convinced I couldn’t handle being a part of his life. My heart broke into a million pieces, and I was so fucking mad that he was being such a complete idiot.

I tried to walk past him, but the pull was too strong. When my arm brushed his, the spark was palpable, like I’d been stung.

“Why are you doing this?” My voice cracked as I spoke. I was still standing next to him, our arms still touching. “I can’t believe you’re telling me to go.” I hiccupped, unable to hold my tears back any longer. I turned my head to look at him, but he stood staring straight ahead, the windows behind him showcasing the falling spring snow.

I set down my bags and let go of my suitcase and stepped in front of him. “Look at me, God damn it.”

He dropped his chin and our eyes met.

“If you can’t see that I love you, that I want to be with you and a part of your life, that I don’t care about what your father did or Elin Erickson or all of your money, then I don’t know how to change your mind. I love you, William. I really fucking love you. Why isn’t that enough?”

In my desperation to get across to him, I did the only thing I could think of: I kissed him. My trembling lips found his, but he stayed perfectly still and didn’t respond. He didn’t kiss me back or reach for me. And that was all the answer I needed.

I lost it then, the pain coursing through me like a virus. “It’s all been a big fucking lie, hasn’t it?” I sobbed up at him. “You said you’d never hurt me and now you’re tearing me apart. You’re killing me,” I wailed. “Why are you doing this?”

No response.

I backed away and wiped at my eyes and my running nose with my sleeve and tried to regain a shred of my composure. I look a deep breath. “I was ready to be with you no matter what, William. But if you can’t see that, if we’re over because you can’t let me into your life, then that decision is yours.”

I gathered up my bags and my suitcase and managed to walk down the hall without looking back, but I knew my trembling legs betrayed my resolve. I kept hoping William would stop me.

He didn’t.

I stepped into the elevator, dropped my stuff, turned, and hit the button for the lobby. I looked up to see William, framed by the huge windows of his penthouse. His head was down again. Then he looked up and my breath caught. His inky dark hair was wildly disheveled and there was so much anguish in the stormy eyes I had grown to love. I wanted, desperately, to run to him, but before I could, the doors closed on my last look of him.

* * *

N
o one waited for me when I stepped into the lobby. For the first time in weeks, I was free to come and go without a shadow. It was strange and exhilarating all at the same time.

I reassembled my bags and started to pull my suitcase across the wide expanse of polished marble floor when yet another wave of dizziness hit me along with a powerful surge of nausea. “Oh no,” I muttered. I dropped everything with a loud clatter and ran toward an elegant silver wastebasket near a couch in the sitting area, into which I very inelegantly threw up.

I retched a few times, hating that it was happening but completely powerless to make it stop. My throat burned and my eyes watered. Finally, when the contents of my stomach were all out of me, I lowered the wastebasket, ready to find a place where I could dispose of the mess. I was met with a sympathetic look from Rajesh, the building concierge, who was standing just a few feet from me. At that moment, I just wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear.

“Miss Catherine, please come and sit down and let me bring you some water. I’ll call up to Mr. Lambourne right away. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”

“Don’t do that,” I replied.

“But, Miss Catherine, you’re not well. Surely Mr. Lambourne should...”

“I’m fine, Rajesh. Thank you. And I’m really sorry about this.” I held up the soiled wastebasket. “Just a little upset stomach.” I wiped my mouth and my sweaty forehead with the back of my hand. This was so not my finest hour, and I was pretty certain I looked positively green. “I’m on my way out, actually.” I looked over at my pile of assorted bags lying in the middle of the lobby. “Could you call me a cab?”

Outside the entrance to William’s building, the cool air washed over me as I waited for my taxi. I took another sip from the bottle of water Rajesh insisted I take, the cold liquid doing little to soothe my raw throat. I pulled my phone out of my coat pocked, dialed, then pressed it to my ear.

“I’m in,” I said quietly.

“What was that? It sounded like you said,
I’m in
.” Hutch answered on the other end.

“I did. I’m going to Paris with you.”

He let out a whoop. “If I’m dreaming, don’t wake me up. I’ll have my people email you all the information. You won’t regret this, Catherine.”

I sincerely hoped I wouldn’t, because it felt like I already did.

My next call was to Beckett. I’d need a place to crash for the night.

I
managed to keep it together on the cab ride to Beckett’s apartment. Rajesh hadn’t said much as he’d loaded my bags into the taxi. He hadn’t accepted the tip I’d offered to him, either. Talk about wearing your heart on your sleeve. Besides unceremoniously puking in a garbage can in the middle of the elegant lobby, I was sure I had “Just Dumped” splayed across my face too. I wonder what gave it away—my bloodshot, swollen eyes or my tear-streaked, blotchy face?

Rajesh hadn’t mentioned calling William again, so he clearly had an idea that something was up. I’d gotten into the cab and he’d offered me a sympathetic look as he’d closed the rear door.

“Goodbye, Miss Catherine. I hope you feel better soon. And I hope I’ll see you again.” He must have known I might be leaving William for good. Then he’d given the cab two pats on the roof and the driver had pulled away. I’d watched out the window as William’s tall, stately building, the place I’d come to think of as home for a short time, faded into the distance and became just another tower in downtown Chicago’s forest of skyscrapers. 

I let myself into Beckett’s apartment with the spare key he’d given me for emergencies. If being kicked to the curb by your boyfriend wasn’t an emergency, I didn’t know what was. Beckett had been at Patisserie LeClerc when I’d called and couldn’t get away. I’d told him I was fine and not to hurry home. I’d already taken him away from work yesterday for the photo shoot.

God, yesterday
. How could so much change in one day? Yesterday I’d been William’s girlfriend, today I was...I didn’t know anymore. The knife in my heart twisted yet again.

Beckett’s apartment was quiet and empty. I dropped my bags in the living room, grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge, and slid down to the kitchen floor before allowing the great wracking sobs that I’d been holding in to escape.

I would have been mortified if anyone had been there to see me cry like that. But I was alone, so I didn’t hold back. I didn’t know what hurt more, the fact that William and I were over or that he’d let me walk out of his life without a fight. Our relationship played out like a movie in my head, a highlight reel of mind-blowing kisses, intense intimacy, and soaring love juxtaposed with feelings of isolation, the fear that I had never truly known him, and the gnawing thought that no matter how much I tried, I wasn’t enough for him, that I was somehow too damaged from losing Jace and all that had followed, that I would never be whole for him.

I don’t know how long I stayed like that, a pathetic lump on Beckett’s floor. Maybe an hour, maybe four. It had turned dark outside, but that wasn’t much to go by since it was Chicago in March. My ass was sore and cold, and I felt stiff when I heard Beckett’s key turn in the lock. I also had a killer headache—partly from dehydration and partly the result of more missed meals over the last few days than I could remember. I hoped Beckett had brought carbs, as I needed a truly grand break-up cocktail of junk food.

Beckett found me in the kitchen, sank down beside me, and hugged me. I started crying again. Crying wasn’t really the right word. More like moaning in agony and sobbing at the same time. I hurt everywhere.

“Oh, Cat.” He stroked my hair and pulled me close. “I’m so sorry.” When my bawling had faded to whimpering with hiccups, he notched my chin up. “Is it really over?”

I nodded.

“What happened?”

“He told me to leave. He pushed me away, just like he always does.” I told Beckett then about everything since I’d left him at the photo shoot, ending with how William decided to let his past destroy our future, how he had chosen his grief over me. “He thinks his father’s mistakes have ruined his life and that he’ll ruin mine, that it would be better if I stayed away from him.”

“Oh, Cat, that doesn’t make any sense at all. He loves you, I know he does.”

“I know,” I sniveled in response as I looked at Beckett with my watery eyes.

“It’s so fucked up, Cat. I’m so sorry.”

“It is. I always thought
my
shit would ruin us, you know? Everything with Jace and the accident and then with Jeremy.” I swallowed hard and wiped my eyes again. “Then I thought maybe we’d be okay. Remember our fight? You were right. Once I finally accepted I could be happy again, I really believed I’d found true love. I found him. We found each other. God, I love him, Beckett. What am I going to do?” More great, wracking sobs erupted from me.

“I know, baby, I know,” Beckett soothed me as he stroked my back.

“He told me once that he knew everything he needed to know about me the moment we bumped into each other outside of Willowgrass. All the stuff I tortured myself about for so long really didn’t fucking matter to him, even after that stupid video at The Webster.” I paused to catch my breath amidst more sobs.

“He said he loved me anyway. He told me he knew what it was like to feel guilty for surviving too. But now,” my tears were flowing steadily. “Now, it’s like this twisted resignation that he can’t be happy and he’ll ruin anything he touches. How could he send me away, Beckett? I don’t even know if he ever really loved me. Maybe he didn’t.”

Just saying that aloud was like stabbing myself in the heart. It was too painful to think that everything William and I had shared since we met wasn’t what I thought it had been.

“I told him I would stay,” I finished lamely. “I don’t really care about Paris and I would have stayed here in a heartbeat if he had asked me to, but instead he told me to go. For good.”

There were more tears as I recalled how cold William had been toward me earlier. When I looked up, though, I saw that I wasn’t the only one crying.

I was so lost in my rambling, I hadn’t realized that Beckett was shaking beside me. I drew back and stared at his hunched shoulders, his face in his hands.

“Oh my God. Beckett!” I grabbed his wrists. “Shit. What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “This isn’t about me.”

And then it hit me. I was unloading everything about my break-up with William, and my best friend was sobbing along with me, but definitely not because
my
heart was broken. Because
his
was. I’d known for weeks that there was something else going on with Beckett, and I’d run right over his break-up with my own. I had never heard the truth about what had happened between him and Alec, but now I needed to know.

I drew his hands away from his face and met his gaze. “Beckett, please tell me what’s wrong. Please tell me. It’s about what happened with Alec, isn’t it? Just tell me.

He shook his head. “No. This is about you.”

“You’ve been pretending you’re fine since Valentine’s Day. You’re not fine. I know you’re not. Please talk to me.”