Page 170 of Love Arranged
I won’t allow it to be.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” he says, filling the silence when I don’t speak. “I’m…distraught. Tomorrow we can regroup and come up with a new plan, and by next week we’ll have the polls and post-debate data to review too. I…” He shakes his head. “It’s no excuse, but my anxiety got the best of me, and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
I don’t ease his worries. I don’t rush to make him feel better. I don’t do anything but stand there in silence, processing how we got to this point.
He tilts my head back so he can get a better look at me. “Lily?” he asks, a crease forming between his brows.
“Yes?”
“Tell me you’re still in this with me.”
I look away and close my eyes. “Until the end of the election, yes.”
“What?”
“You and me…we’re done.”
“Done how?” Each word is punctuated with a pause.
“I plan on following through with our original agreement.”Even if it’s one of the hardest things I have to do. “We can keep up with our public appearances, but if you don’t plan on staying here if you lose, then everything else between us has to stop.”
Tell me you’ve changed your mind, I beg one last time.
Fight for me as hard as you’ve fought for this election.
Whatever flame of hope I carried is snuffed out when he shakes his head. “I won’t make you a promise I can’t keep.”
I want to curl into a ball and cry, because how can he look me in the eyes after everything that’s happened between us and act like it doesn’t matter?
“I see.”
Maybe we were always doomed because neither of us is willing to sacrifice for the other. I won’t leave, and he won’t stay.
It’s a tragedy that would make Shakespeare proud, and one I don’t fully understand.
We were so close to that forever kind of happiness. I could feel it, couldseeit for the first time with Lorenzo after years spent searching for the right person.
Only to be blindsided in the end.
“I’ll respect your wishes.” He dips his head—a final death sentence to our relationship.
When I’m pulling away, I remember the bracelet he got me, and before he can protest, I unclasp it and hold it out in the palm of my hand.
“What are you doing?” His eyes go wild with…what? Worry? Anger?
Who cares.
“Clarifying where we stand.”
When he doesn’t grab it, I slip it inside his pocket, catching the way it clicks against his father’s dice.
His throat visibly tightens. “It was a gift.”
“One I only accepted because I thought…” Nope. Still can’t say those three words aloud. “I thought wrong.”
Better.
I don’t know how I walk out of that classroom with my head held high. My rib cage feels as if it’s cracking in half, each strenuous breath serving as a painful reminder of what happens when we fall in love with someone who won’t love us back.
