Page 153 of The Design of Goodbye
“You’re not.” I jumped off the swing so suddenly he narrowly avoided getting hit in the face by it. “If you were doing this for us, you wouldn’t be breaking up with me.”
I walked away. He followed close behind.
“I’m not breaking up with you. I’m asking for time,” he pleaded. “I want you more than anything.”
“You don’t.” Tears pooled in my eyes. “You’re leaving me. When people leave me, it means they don’t want me.”
“That’s not true.” His voice cracked. “I do want you.”
I spun around and faced him. The devastation on his face mirrored my emotions, and I couldn’t understand why he was so sad when this was his idea. “You don’t.”
He stepped forward.
I stepped back, holding up a shaky hand. “Leave me alone.”
“I need to explain myself better. You’ll understand—”
“I understood perfectly.” I tried to maintain my composure, even though I was about to fall apart at the seams. “I don’t want to talk to you right now. I don’t want to see you. I want you to leave me alone.”
“Okay.” He stepped back, creating more distance between us. “I’ll go.”
That quickly, my composure broke. It’d been that easy for him to give up. To stop fighting for us.
For me.
“Why is this so easy for you?”
His face fell. “It’s not.”
“But you—” My words caught on a sob. “You’re about to walk away from me, like it’s easy.”
“It’s not easy,” he said. “I wanted to give you space.”
“I don’t want space from you!” I yelled.
“Madison,” he whispered. “I’m—”
“Stop it.” I held my hand up to keep him away. “I can’t do this right now.” I sucked in a deep breath, gathering strength. “I’m leaving.”
“You don’t have to.” His voice shook. “I will.”
“No.” I wished I sounded stronger, but my voice trembled like his. “I’m the one who gets to leave.”
chapter fifty-seven
I drove to Taylor’s. At least, I think I did. My car was parked in her driveway, and I was standing on her front porch, even though I didn’t remember driving.
After I knocked, I attempted to pull myself together. But when Taylor answered, I was still in the middle of a major breakdown.
“Oh shit, Madison.” She pulled me inside. Her home smelled of cinnamon, and I took in great gulps of the comforting air as she led me to her room. Once inside, she left me with a promise to return.
I curled on her bed and tried hard to stop crying. But all I could think of was Liam. I was losing him. No, I’d already lost him. Hadn’t I? By this time tomorrow, he’d be gone, and I’d be alone.
Less than ten minutes later, Taylor came back. A new but equally comforting smell followed her.
“Chamomile,” she said, setting the steaming mug on her nightstand.
She sat on the edge of her bed, took one glance at me, and handed me a tissue. I probably should’ve been embarrassed she was seeing me in such a state, but I didn’t feel much of anything right now except overwhelming sadness.
