Page 106 of Confessions of a Smutty Romance Author

“No, it's about us,” I said. “It's about you finding any chance you can to run away from something real. Ifwemattered so much, if—if anusmattered, you would have thought about it. You would have hesitated for a second at least, but you just came over so thrilled at the chance of leaving me.” God, I felt like shit now. The best thing in my life was leaving, and I didn’t know what it would mean long term.

“It's not at the chance of leaving you. It’s a chance of chasing a dream.”

“A dream I didn't even know you had,” I said. “I thought you were just happy writing novels.”

Her lips trembled. “And raising kids. Right?” She shook her head and looked away before drawing her eyes back to me. “That's what this is about, right?” She didn’t even give me time to answer before saying, “I don't want the kind of life that you want to have, and now you're punishing me for it.”

“That's not it at all. I—”

“This isexactlywhy I didn't want a relationship. I didn't want someone who would be holding me back.”

The venom in her voice, her words, her posture, it felt worse than a punch to the gut. “I don't want to hold you back either,” I said. She was quiet for a moment, and I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “If that's what you think I'm doing, then maybe we shouldn't be doing this.”

Her lips parted, fear shooting through her eyes. “You're breaking up with me?”

It was the last damn thing I wanted. But the girl in front of me.... this was supposed to be the best night of her life and I was ruining it. And she was right. I didn’t want her to go to Georgia. How selfish could I be? So I said the words I needed to say. “If all I’m doing is holding you back, then I don't see a reason for you to be with me.”

She shook her head, picked up the hem of her dress, and ran away from me, and I realized I'd known all along where this thing with Mara would end. I just hadn't realized how soon.

48

Mara

Confession: Maybe I didn’t believe in happily ever after. But I sure as hell believed in heartbreak.

Tears streameddown my cheeks as I ran downstairs, toward the place in the club where I’d left Birdie and Cohen. Instead of lounging around the sides and talking like we’d all been doing earlier, the two of them were dancing together, so lost in each other the rest of the world had clearly faded away.

The sight of two people being in the kind of love I so desperately wanted to have with Jonas ripped me apart. I couldn’t interrupt them, couldn’t add more drama, so I left. I walked out the front doors to the curb where several cabs were waiting and got in one.

“Can you take me to Emerson?” I asked the driver.

“That’s an hour away,” he replied, looking at me like I was insane. “It’d be hundreds of dollars.”

“I know,” I said. “I don’t care how much it is.”

He nodded, pushing the button to start the meter, and then drove away from the club. I looked out the window at the rooftop terrace. I could see people dancing, talking, so small from down here. But I couldn’t see Jonas. I couldn’t see the man who’d promised me a future I could never take part in.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as we drove away from LA. Away from what should have been the best night of my life. Away from the man I loved.

The truth was, I hadn’t hesitated when I’d made the decision to go to Atlanta. I’d been so confident in us, no matter how far apart we were, that I thought it would be okay. I’d expected him to pick me up and spin me around and brag to have a girlfriend who was writing for a TV show with Bradley Mason. I’d had more faith in our relationship than he had.

Instead of celebrating with me, he’d been disappointed. Upset even, that I hadn’t talked to him before accepting something I should obviously say yes to. And maybe he was right. Maybe I should have consulted with him. But to what end?

I was taking this job opportunity, no matter what anyone said.

Did that make me selfish?

Did that make me unfit for a relationship?

Probably.

I’d lived so much of my life alone that I didn’t even know how to factor people in when it came to big things like this. And if I’d had kids in school, what would I do? Pull them so I could write for TV? Drag a baby along with me to the writers’ room?

This was exactly why I hadn’t wanted a serious relationship. Exactly why I didn’t want children.

I’d been so wrong to think I could have been anyone different than this exact version of myself. And now it wasn’t just me who would be getting hurt. Jonas was hurt. His parents would be hurt.

Mariah. I nearly choked on a sob. I promised myself I’d find the perfect person to do dialysis with her. I wanted her to feel comfortable and loved by anyone who walked into their home, especially with all she’d done for me. Mariah had been more of a mom to me in the last several months than my own mom had in years. She’d healed me in ways she’d never understand.

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