Page 157 of The Infiniteness of Yesterday
“You’reengaged,” he says, the word laced with so much pain. “You’re going to marry him.”
It’s a statement, not a question.
“I don’t know,” I confess in a whisper. “I…”
“You said yes to him in a dress I bought you—in the dressIproposed to you in. You said no, but you told him yes. Fuck you, Harlow.”
I slam my eyes shut. I deserve that.
I’ve blocked out most of that night from my memory.
Of the Hollywood elite party. Of Lydia pulling me aside and telling me I was making an embarrassment of myself hanging onto Spencer. That I needed to let him go so he could flourish. It was the wrong thing to say to me when I was already struggling so much with him being part of that world and being a young mom and beingnormalwhen he was surrounded by the most beautiful people in the world. Though, I suppose, in her eyes it was the right thing to say to me, because when he proposed to me later that night when it was just the two of us in our apartment kitchen and the glow of candles, I said no. It was the end of us, even if we did hook up again later.
I never told him what Lydia said to me, because frankly it doesn’t change anything. With as messed up in the head as I was at the time, I would’ve said no regardless.
He exits the highway and when I look over at him there are silent tears tracking down his cheeks. My throat feels tight.
How do I keep doing this? How do I keep fucking up over and over again? Is there something wrong with me—like some disease running rampant in my bloodstream but instead of making me sick it just has me making every wrong choice possible.
It’s silent again and I look around and realize we’re driving through the streets of L.A. At one intersection a billboard with Spencer’s profile kissing his co-star stares down at us.
It’s as if the billboard opens the dam to his words again.
“What happened to us? Where did it go wrong? Was it when you got pregnant? Or when I was scouted? Or when we moved out of your parents? Or maybe when I moved from modeling to acting? Was it when I proposed? I … I need to know, Harlow. What was the moment when I lost you?”
I press my lips together in an effort to keep my sob inside. “I … I don’t know.”
Back then, my reasons seemed valid. We were so young I didn’t know anyone but him, and with him entering the Hollywood scene I felt like I didn’t want to be part of that world.
“I was scared,” I finally say, and it’s the truth. “We were…”
I guess the truth of the matter is that while Spencer reveled in the intensity of our relationship, embraced that feeling of me being his forever person, I was terrified of it.
“We were what?” he prompts. “I thought you loved me, Harlow, but there must have been something I did.”
“I did,” I say softly. “But I was young and scared and stupid. And the worst part is I was confused then and somehow, I’m even more confused now.” A tear escapes and I hastily wipe it away. “And I—” I slam my mouth closed.
“And you what?” he asks it with such raw desperation that I think I’d almost certainly rather have him punch me in the face than to deal with his pain.
I force myself to swallow past my fear. “I still love you.”
Spencer turns off the road into a dark, mostly empty parking lot between buildings.
“What are you?—”
My question is cut off when he parks and promptly undoes his seatbelt. Reaching over, he clicks the button on mine.
“Get over here,” he growls in a possessive command.
He practically lifts me from the passenger seat so that I’m straddling him in his.
His fingers delve in my hair, and he captures my mouth in a kiss that I feel through not just my entire body, but my entire soul. He pours everything into the kiss. Our past, present, and a future it feels like he’s begging me to give him.
He pulls back, hand cupping my neck. His chest rises and falls rapidly, and I lay my palm over his heart.
“Don’t marry him.” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond, kissing me again instead. “Don’t marry him,” he says again in pleading tone, biting at my neck. “Please. I’m begging you.”
Tears fall and I’m helpless to stop them. I never knew it was possible to be this confused over two men. Why do they have to be so good? I don’t deserve either of them.
