Page 128 of Don't Be in Love

“Ihavelost, because I can’t have him. He’s not mine to have.”

“I think he would heavily disagree,” she replied.

“I feel like I’ve been climbing this tree for my entire life, toeing the edge of happiness. But branches keep breaking underneath my feet and now I’m scared to sit on a stump, let alone approach an entire spruce,” I rambled, more tears falling.

The women looked at me with turned down brows, slumped forward in their seats. Wine glasses were pushed onto the coffee table like a messy game of chess.

“But what would life be without the satisfaction of succeeding after a fall?” Maureen asked.

44

Don’t Let Him Go — Adelaide

Thunder roared outside my balcony the next night. Kurt curled up on my slippers under my desk as I clicked out of my empty inbox and finished scrolling through positions in Boston.

My door creaked open, and Sabrina poked her head in.

“There’s someone downstairs for you.” She smiled.

My heart plummeted.

“Who?”

“You know who.” She closed the door behind her. Kurt leapt from my slippers, letting out a disgruntled meow, as I jumped from my seat. I threw on actual shoes, smoothed out my sweatshirt and brushed a hand down my hair before running down the stairwell to the lobby.

I froze on the bottom step. Dorian was in a soaked black T-shirt and barn jacket under the awning outside.

Reluctantly, I took the last step and stepped outside, jolting him. “What are you doing here?” I asked, folding my arms deep into the crevices of my sweatshirt to avoid brushing the wet strands of black hair sticking to his forehead.

“Ya know, just enjoying the rain.” He shrugged.

“Did you walk all the way here?”

“No, I took a cab. But I arrived ten minutes ago and have been pacing ever since.”

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” I checked around the street for anyone watching.

“Why do you think I’ve been out here for the past ten minutes?”

I sighed. “Someone’s going to see us, you should come inside—”

He shook his head. “I just came here for one thing.”

“Alright, what is it?”

“Christmas Eve, I asked—”

“The last thing I want to hear about is Christmas Eve, Dorian.” I turned and pushed the door—

He grabbed the handle, caging me in.

“Let me finish,” he said. I turned around, my back to the door, but he didn’t move. I could see every crinkle that lined his lips. Each crinkle that I loved. Every feature he had offered up to Victoria.

All I could picture was him kissing her. Or her perfectly manicured nails running through his hair as she kissed him. I wondered if that’s how he looked whenwekissed. And if he ever thought about me while kissing her.