Page 185 of This Bitter Sweet Temptation
His eyes glow, twin moons boring into mine. He’s trying to lighten the mood, maybe make me feel better, but it just makes my heart drop thirty floors down to the busy street.
There’s no flippant clapback left in me.
No pretending I’m untouched.
Holdendidfucking hurt me, and it takes all my willpower to check my inner bitch and refrain from telling him exactly how much damage he did.
But that won’t help anything when we’re trying to get this done and part ways on good terms.
The silence stretches between us, breathless. Waiting.
I know he wants me to say something, to forgive him, but I feel like a shattered vase, too many scattered pieces to pull together again.
With a slow, scratchy breath, I say, “I don’t know what you want.”
He blinks at me.
I want to shake him.
Smack him in the face.
Scream until his eyes go wide and he stops thinking he owes me some kind of half-hearted apology.
A jealous, evil part of me wants to hurt him like he’s hurt me.
Impossible.
The dark things I want burn my tongue from holding them in.
“I just wanted you to hear it.” He leans back in his chair until it creaks. Finally, he looks away, and I can breathe again. “Thanks for giving Kit the 3D art. She loves it. I know you wanted to sell it, and if you want, I’ll pay you.”
“No, that’s why I left it for her.” I grip the arms of my chair. “It wasn’t for you, Holden,” I lie.
“Of course not,” he says quietly.
“Okay. So we’re clear.” I wait, but there’s nothing more coming.
He joins me, ruminating in the cityscape, losing a final piece of us as New York slowly lights up like a firefly swarm.
The yawning quiet blanketed by the street noise stokes my anger.
“So that’s it, then? You wanted to apologize, but that’s all I get? You’ve done your job and you cut me loose. No more loose ends.” I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood. “Does it make you feel better?”
When he looks at me with his eyes darker than ever, there’s an emptiness that scares me. A blank, dead expression that scorches my throat.
“What else is there, Miss Blackthorn?” he whispers, defeated. “It’s the only thing left. I wish you’d realize that.”
Miss Blackthorn.
We’re right back where we started, the hate-to-love-to-hate cycle complete.
I hold my raging breath in and study his face, features I once knew like the back of my hand.
Just a few weeks ago, I could have found him in total darkness. I traced the shape of his cheeks, his nose, his jaw.
Now he’s a stranger again. Alien and glacial.
“Whatever, take the couch. Good night, Holden.” I turn back to the deepening sunset.
