Page 100 of Forbidden Fruit
A few hours later, after mustering enough strength, I drag myself out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom. When I return, I stop in my tracks. White tulip petals are scattered all over the bed. My heart sinks.
What the hell? Was he just waiting outside for me to leave? I wasn’t even in the bathroom that long.
White tulips. Forgiveness.
The sight of them makes my chest ache and my anger rise all at once. I hate how much I love them but none of it is supposed to be mine. He isn’t supposed to be mine.
I look up there he is, standing silently in the corner of the room like a ghost, a beautiful, haunting reminder of everything I can’t have.
“You can’t be in here,” I hiss. My eyes flick to the door like it might burst open any second, like Abigail might appear and ruin what little remains of the lie we’ve been clinging to. “You need to go. Please.”
He doesn’t move.
Of course he doesn’t.
He just stands there, breathing like he’s trying to keep something from breaking loose inside him, like walking away would tear him in half.
I turn away before I can drown in it. My hands fumble with the scattered tulip petals on the counter, pretending they matter, like if I just throw them away, maybe I can throw usaway too. I march to the trash can and drop them in, trying not to fall apart with them.
But when I turn back, he’s closer.
Too close.
My breath catches.
Normally, his nearness would feel like safety. But now it feels like a goodbye I haven’t prepared for.
“Talk to me,” he says. “Let me fix this.”
“There’s nothing to fix,” I snap, gripping the sink so hard my knuckles go white. “It’s over, Calvin. Whatever this was. It’s over.”
He flinches, barely, but I see it.
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do.” The words strangle me on the way out.
A beat of silence. The kind that stretches and hurts and feels like it’s cutting bone.
“I asked you for time,” he says, quieter now. “There are things you don’t know, things I can’t tell you yet.”
“Then I hope you tell them to Abigail,” I whisper. “Because she’s the one you chose, remember?”
His jaw clenches and I watch his hands curl into fists.
“You really think this meant nothing to me?” he asks, and there’s something raw in his voice. “You think I could touch you, kiss you, look at you the way I do, and walk away like none of it mattered?”
“I think you’re going to marry my sister,” I say, and it sounds so final that it steals the breath from my lungs. “And I think that means we never happened.”
He steps forward.
“Peach…”
“Don’t,” I say. “Just… don’t make this harder than it already is.”
“Look at me.”
“No.”
