Page 89 of After We Fall (After We Fall 2)
I wondered if I’d ever stop asking myself what if?
A few miserable days later, I broke down and called her.
It was after midnight, which made me an even bigger asshole, but I couldn’t go another minute without at least hearing her voice. I’d gotten into the habit of pulling up her picture on the Shine PR website, and the image was driving me crazy—I wanted those blue eyes looking at me. I wanted that smile to be flashed in my direction. I wanted that long blond hair slipping through my fingers. I wanted her light, her laughter, her lips on mine.
More than that, I wanted the feeling she gave me—that heart-pounding, gut-clenching, blood-rushing feeling that made me feel alive and vital and virile. I wanted to feel wanted again. I craved it.
But that was impossible, wasn’t it? She’d never agree to see me. Not unless I apologized and admitted I’d made a mistake, and there was no way I could. It didn’t matter that I wished things were different—they weren’t. This wasn’t a fairy tale. This beast wasn’t going to turn into a prince, and she deserved a prince.
But I was starving for her. I needed a taste.
I paced next to my bed as I listened to the ring. Please, please answer, Margot, I begged silently. Voicemail would be OK, because at least I’d still get to hear her, but a conversation would be better. I wanted to feel close to her again.
She didn’t pick up right away, and my hopes started to dwindle. Why should she answer your call, asshole? But then it stopping ringing, and I heard her breathing. Goosebumps blanketed my arms and legs.
“Hi,” I said quietly.
“Hello.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d answer.”
“I almost didn’t.” Her voice was hushed, and I wondered if she’d been asleep. My blood ran warmer as I thought of her under the covers.
“Did I wake you?”
“No.”
“Good. I’m…” Shit. Now that I had her on the line, I couldn’t think of anything to say. “I’m sorry to call so late.”
“It’s fine.”
“So…how are you?” Fuck. So stupid.
“OK. You?”
She wasn’t OK. I could hear it. And neither was I. “OK.”
An uncomfortable silence followed, during which I thought of nothing I could say and ten things I couldn’t, starting with I miss you. I miss you so much I can’t breathe.
“Are you really OK?” she asked.
“No,” I admitted.
“Me either.”
“I want to see you so badly,” I blurted. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.” She paused. “Does this…does this mean you changed your mind?”
I wanted to say yes so badly, I felt strangled by it. “No,” I choked out.
“Then I can’t see you, Jack. It wouldn’t do either of us any good.”
“Please,” I whispered before I could stop myself. “I need you.”
“No. I’m hanging up. This hurts too much.”
“No, wait!” Panicked, I held out one hand as if she could see me. “Please don’t go, Margot. I miss you so fucking much. All I do is think about you.”
