Page 76 of When Forever Falls Apart

I’m tired of lying to her, and to myself, but whatever I say, it won’t be the answer she needs.

“You deserve better,” I tell her with ease. “I can’t be theman you need, Nicole, but somewhere out there is a man who will love you the way you deserved to be loved.”

I lean in and place a kiss on her forehead, marking the end of our journey.

We had Paris.

But now, Paris is officially over.

Margaret Anne casually wandered in just before Nicole left. I could have sworn she gave Nicole the side-eye, but my head is so fucked, who knows what I was seeing at that point.

Nicole walked away with an overwhelming sadness. It was the end for us, and regret seeped into my thoughts, a bitter aftertaste lingering from my lack of honesty.

But right now, all I can think about is Madelina.

I need to see her.

Fed up with my own insecurities, I get on my bike and speed across town to Madelina’s apartment. I slam my foot on the gas and break all speed limits—not my proudest moment, but whatever is consuming me needs to stop right now.

My knuckles tap against the door, my heart racing a million miles a minute.

Seconds stretch into eternity as nothing but silence greets me.

I knock again, my chest pounding with urgency, willing her to answer.

My hand slips into my pocket to retrieve my cell. Without a second thought, I text Madelina to ask where she is. I knock on the door again, but still no response.

Turning away, I descend the steps to the street, where the sun has set and darkness slowly falls upon the sky. The windows in the apartment are blackened, an obvious sign she isn’t home.

I dial her number, but all I hear is the dead silence of her phone switched off.

“Where the fuck are you?” I growl to myself.

Calling Billie crosses my mind, but the thought of having to answer her questions forces me to abandon the idea. Instead, I wait at Madelina’s doorstep, knowing she has to come home at some point.

After a few minutes, I glance at my phone. It’s just after nine, and there’s still no sign of her. On impulse, I open social media and search for her account. She mentioned this morning that she’d finally stop stalking me from the shadows and add me as a friend.

With this newfound hope, I scroll through my notifications and see her account. The circle flashes, indicating she has just posted a story. I click the icon to see Madelina in a tight black dress, standing beside a bunch of people at a bar. As I narrow my gaze onto the pic, I see some fucker has his hands around her waist.

Jealousy washes over me as I grip my phone tightly in my hand, my knuckles turning white. The screen glows with a pinned location that reveals where she is—a bar called After Dark in Manhattan.

I know the place, and I know how single men behave when a beautiful woman crosses their radar—sleazy doesn’t even begin to cover it.

My heart races, a tight knot of anger and insecurity twisting in my chest as I picture what she might be doing right now, probably half drunk and not thinking straight. The thought of her laughing, carefree and glowing in that way she does, while some asshole leans in, trying to touch what isn’t his… the thought lodges in me like a blade, sharp and merciless.

I have no choice.

If I leave now, I can be there in just under two hours.

And that, despite what I said earlier, erases all this “no strings attached” bullshit.

Madelina needs to know she ismine.

CHAPTER 21Madelina

The thumping bass vibrates through the bar and the crowd goes wild when the DJ drops the next song.

Sweat cascades down my lower back from dancing nonstop for God knows how long. I lost track of time after the first round of drinks.