Page 87 of The Sebastian Guarantee
“My plan was to help the both of us. The investors I met with asked for proof that my life-coaching protocols worked, but I didn’t have any. The day you texted me about meeting your match was the day I was supposed to set up trials and recruit test subjects.”
She narrowed her gaze. “You used me.”
“It’s not like that.”
“It is. And here’s the ironic part. I would have let you. I would have happily volunteered. I wouldn’t have even needed to think it over. If you’d come to me and told me the truth, my answer would have been yes. I would have done anything for you because I love you. Youweremy best friend.”
He flinched. “Were?”
“You’re no different than Jeremy. No,” she breathed through a mirthless laugh, “you’re worse than him. For all his selfish faults, at least he copped to it. I can see the wheels turning in your head. You’re still trying to convince yourself that you did this for me.”
“You asked me to turn you into a business-savvy man-eater. That’s what I did. I did it for you.”
“And yourself. Don’t forget that piece. And you didn’t tell me, because a part of you knew what you were doing could hurt me. It’s so clear now. Pushing me to pick an investor to expand Munch Match wasn’t about my success. It was about your data. It was about you getting your win so you could follow your dreams.”
He sank into the pew across from her. “I never meant to hurt you. I wanted to help you.”
“Then you don’t know me. Because if you knew me, and if you loved me, you would have been honest with me. We would have done this as a team.” She gazed at her parents’ names and smiled a bittersweet smile as a tear trailed down her cheek. She knew what she had to do. It wouldn’t be easy—far from it. But there was no alternative.
She rose and studied the man seated across from her—the man whose life had been intertwined with hers since she was a girl. She stood before him, not as Phoebe 2.0, but simply Phoebe, the nerdy, awkward woman who led with her heart and not her head.
She kissed his cheek. “Goodbye, Sebastian.”
Chapter18
SEBASTIAN
Sebastian zeroed in on the target.
Pop, pop! Pop, pop!
Jab, cross. Jab, cross.
The beat of his fists against the heavy bag echoed through the studio, but it couldn’t drown out the voice in his head—the voice whispering one name again and again.
Phoebe, Phoebe, Phoebe.
He’d dreamed of her every night for the last three nights. In those blissful hours, he’d gazed upon her sparkling blue eyes and a smile that rendered him speechless. He dreamed of everything that could have been, that should have been—holding her hand, waking her with kisses, and basking in her radiant glow. But he’d ruined it. He’d made an unconscionable mistake. He’d betrayed the woman he loved—the woman who made him whole, who lifted him up, who defended him when he was down. He was a bloody fool.
Pop, pop! Pop, pop!
Jab, cross. Jab, cross.
She’d left him in the chapel. Like he’d been living in a fog, he’d heard the door to the stone sanctuary slam. The ripples of that crack of a sound still vibrated in his chest, or maybe that was his heart breaking over and over again. He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat in that pew, staring ahead at the empty altar, wondering what the hell was wrong with him.
Goodbye, Sebastian.
He could hear the steely certainty in her voice and feel her lips against his cheek.
Had he lost her forever? He couldn’t answer that question. He wouldn’t do it. He’d never imagined a life without her. He wasn’t ready to throw in the towel. He couldn’t accept defeat. There had to be a way forward. Unfortunately, his addled mind hadn’t devised a plan to win her back.
And time was ticking away.
When he’d finally emerged from the chapel, the storm had passed. He’d followed the mud-spattered, moonlit trail back to Glenn Pines. Even before he’d opened the door to the guest room, he’d known she was gone. He could feel her absence like a piece of his heart had broken loose. He’d sat on the edge of the bed, unable to stop the onslaught of memories. His limbs ached as he remembered what it was like to hold her in his arms, to feel her curled into him, to trail his fingertips along the contours of her body, and to know, in those moments, ripe with perfect harmony, that she was his.
With her scent and her spirit imprinted in the space, he had to get the hell out of there. He’d packed his bags and ended up in the main hall. The place had cleared out. By then, it was either very late or very early—he didn’t know which. He’d spied Mae sitting in one of the lodge’s over-stuffed armchairs, sipping a steaming cup of tea. She hadn’t appeared surprised when he’d asked to check out. He’d wanted to inquire about Phoebe, but he hadn’t, and Mae hadn’t brought up the subject either. When he’d asked her to recommend a car service to get back to Denver, she’d waved him off and handed him the keys to one of the lodge’s pickup trucks, telling him she’d be in Denver in the next few days and would pick it up when she was in town. It was a kind gesture. The only thing he could do was offer a weak smile, load up, and head back to the city alone and utterly broken.
But he hadn’t remained idle—it wasn’t in his nature. He’d thought about falling back into his playboy ways. Liquor and women had numbed the ache before. But when he’d woken up in his childhood bedroom, he hadn’t hightailed it to the nearest bar. Instead, he’d put on a shirt and tie and begun visiting the Pun-chi yoga studios across the state.
