Page 96 of Hold You Close
There’s only one option—I go get my girl.
I fight for her.
Pushing up off the ground, I run back to the house. All three of the kids are staring at me and I point inside. “Go! Get ready! We have to go get her!”
Morgan claps her hands and Christopher has a huge smile.
“Don’t just stand there!” I say as I get closer.
“Right! Yes! Let’s go get Aunt London!” Morgan yells.
Twenty-Two
London
How many tears are too many?
I wonder if you can actually break your tear ducts from overuse. If so, I’m on the cusp.
I cried all night long.
I cried as I threw shit in a bag.
I cried as I stared at his door, wondering if he could feel me begging him to love me.
I cried when the stupid car came and drove away, leaving my heart in his hands.
Now, I’m crying again as I’m standing in line to get through security.
It feels as though someone is literally ripping my heart out of my chest. The pain is so intense, it hurts to breathe.
“Miss?” The man behind me taps my shoulder.
“Yes?” I glance over my shoulder at him.
When he gets a look at me, he blinks and takes a step back. “Are you all right?”
No. No, I’m not. I’m broken, hurting, feeling as though my life is over. “I’m . . . I’m not sure.”
“Can I offer you a handkerchief?” He reaches inside his jacket and takes one out.
“Thank you.” How sweet, he’s a gentleman. Men don’t normally carry handkerchiefs anymore, do they? And here’s a nice man being so sweet to a crazy lady in line who can’t stop crying long enough to move up.
“Are you real? Do men like you still exist?” I ask as I blot my eyes. “True gentlemen, I mean? Guys who are chivalrous when they see a woman in distress? Because I thought I knew a guy like you once, but he turned out to be a shithead.”
The poor stranger purses his lips and nods, looking a bit uncomfortable. “I see.”
“Do you? Because I can’t see it. I’ve tried. He acts like he loves me and yet he just threw me away. Who does that?”
“Um, I don’t really—”
“If you love someone, you hold them close, you cherish them, you give them your heart. You don’t say it was never anything to begin with and tell them to take a job all the way across the country!” I blow my nose in the soft fabric and the tears fall harder. “Jesus Christ, just look at me!”
“You do seem very upset,” the handkerchief gentleman says, probably sorry he tapped my shoulder in the first place.
“I’m not normally like th
is,” I explain. “I’m a career woman who never gave two shits about men and their games. I graduated summa cum laude from Northwestern with a degree in finance. I worked my ass off to get to the position I just got, in a sea of asshole men because I’m smart. But here I am, crying because of Ian fucking Chase.”
