Page 90 of The Lovers
I don’t think. I just run.
“She’s already getting her car pulled around by valet!” Coco calls after me.
Thank God I’m wearing close-toed, low-heeled shoes. It makes running along the paths that wind through the courtyards and into the main building easier. I wrench the doors open, stopping only momentarily when I enter the building to look around for any sign that Kit is waiting inside for her car. When I don’t see her, I make a beeline to the double doors and shove out into the night.
Light bleeds down from the overhead lamp. On either side ofthe doors they’ve set up heaters to stave off the cold. Her car idles as the valet attendant loads her bags.
“Don’t go,” I say. Her head whips around in my direction.
“Julia.” She says only my name but it feels like a magic spell. Her eyes are red and puffy from crying. She’s still the most beautiful woman in the world to me.
“I saw the video.” I step closer. One step, nothing more—I’m afraid to spook her. “It’s all my fault.”
“It’s Piper’s fault—” She’s shaking her head, but I interrupt.
“I should’ve known she’d do something like this after I told her there was no hope of us ever getting back together.”
“Her going full villain is not on you.” She slams the passenger door closed. The Sexy Times bag is in the front seat of the car, right next to her bag of tarot decks.
“I shouldn’t have asked you to dance when I knew she might be watching. I wanted to prove to myself that you weren’t afraid to be with me in front of a crowd of people.” I am desperate to get the words out before I lose my chance, but my throat is tight, trying to swallow them back down. “That was wrong and selfish of me—I’m so sorry, Kit.”
Every bit of control I thought I had was an illusion, and that makes my body feel off-balance. My head spins. I take another step closer but she doesn’t. She’s not moving toward me, and even though she isn’t moving away either, it feels like a chasm is opening between us.
“I wanted to dance with you,” she says, eyes trailing over my face like she’s trying to memorize it. Hers are shot through with red from crying. “I made my own choice. I don’t regret it.” She sucks her lips between her teeth, her eyes watering. “I wish you would’ve let me in on your reason.”
“I really screwed this up—” I reach, she doesn’t.
“You helped, but Piper didthis.” She’s got her phone in hand, and her fingers visibly tighten around it when she says “this.” “Not you. Or me.”
Her assertion that this isn’t my fault, or hers, makes hope flicker to life in my gut.
“We can figure this out together,” I start, desperation laced through my words. “I know we can—”
“I have to get back to my parents before this news reaches them,” she says, just as the attendant closes the back door of her Jeep. “Everything is such a mess—Dad is already so raw from Mom leaving for another woman. Mom follows me on Instagram, she follows the hashtags, there’s a real chance she will see this if I don’t get home now—I have to try.” I can tell she’s trying not to spiral, but her urgency and adrenaline come off in waves of anxiety.
“Let me come with you,” I say, my voice quivering. “Let me help you through this.”
Her eyes soften, but she shakes her head once. “They might be glad to see you—really, I’m sure they would—but they’ddefinitelybe embarrassed to have this conversation in front of you.” She moves and the curves of her features find the lamplight over my head. “This has to be a just me thing.”
Tears well in her eyes.
I want to take her in my arms. I want to take this pain away.
“I don’t know how to be this true version of myself yet, Julia.” She chews on her bottom lip. “I don’t know who that girl was in that video, looking all sure of herself, so at ease.”
“That video is intrusive and wrong—”
“No—I mean,yes—” She breaks off, blinking, tears dropping down her cheeks.
“There’s abut,” I break in. “There doesn’t have to be.”
“Yes, there does,” she replies, inhaling deep to steady herself. She wipes at her cheeks. “The Kit in that video isn’t scared. She’s queer as hell and loving it. I want to be that Kit.”
“You are.” My voice is a plea.
“That Kit wouldn’t let this video be the way her parents find out the truth. She wouldn’t run from any of this. She’d stand on her own two feet, waving a metaphorical bi flag.” Her smile is swift, real, even though her voice cracks and her cheeks shimmer with tears.
She’s not backing down. She’s not running away. As much as I want to hold on to her, she’s asking me to let her go be brave. She’s showing me she’s ready for this.
