Page 125 of The Broken Heart Playlist
“I’m sorry, Kate,” he whispers into my hair. “I’m so sorry.”
“How could you do this to us? To me? To Lisset?” I ask through my tears. “I don’t understand. Was this some sort of game to you?”
Despair fills his face. “I swear on my life, it was never a game.” His voice is hoarse, pleading. “I kept wanting to tell you the truth, but the timing wasn’t right.”
Timing. As if that’s the issue here. The enormity of his deception is starting to hit me. It feels as though I’m standing at the foot of a snow-covered mountain and watching the avalanche approach, watching it gather momentum and become bigger and bigger as it hurtles toward me.
“From the first day I met you, I had a feeling you would hurt me,” I whisper, not caring what power I’m giving him with those words. Pride seems like a vague, abstract concept right now. The only thing that feels real and concrete in this moment is pain.
“Kate, listen to me, please,” Gideon begs. “I love you and I love Lisset.”
My skin feels bruised all over. I don’t know why he’s not gloating. I expect him to be celebrating the fact that he played us so well. Instead, his shoulders are bowed and there are tears in his eyes. I harden my heart against them. He’s upset he got caught, that’s all.
Every cell in my body is suddenly desperate to get as far away from him as I possibly can. Away from the anguished look on his handsome, deceiving face. Away from whatever more lies he’s planning to spin.
I push away from him and stumble toward his front door.
“Kate, wait!”
I ignore the urgency in his voice, and I flee from all the broken promises that drench this space.
He lets me go.
I lock myself in my house and turn off my phone. Then I curl up on my bed and allow myself to fall apart.
A kaleidoscope of our time together whirls through my head. The first time I saw Gideon in the library and the immediate pull of attraction I felt. Sitting on the porch with him and talking in the dark. Gideon patiently encouraging Lisset to read. Our hilarious date at the food museum. Gideon ironing my clothes while I slept on the couch. His rescue of Lisset’s birthday party. The thrilling moment when our lips met for the first time.
But then I retrace other memories. He bought a house directly across from us so he could have a clear view of our comings and goings. He frequented our favorite coffee shop and walked his dog around the neighborhood to increase his chances of bumping into us. He volunteered at Lisset’s school, as well as the library we often visited.
He made it almost impossible to avoid him.
My mind rolls back to fragmented pieces of our conversations where Gideon seemed to know so much about me. What did Oliver tell him? How close were the two of them?
A sob bursts out of me. Gideon has broken my trust in the worst possible way. I’m crying so hard I’m having trouble thinking straight, but I suddenly remember that Oliver at one point did mention a Garrett at work. I vaguely recall him speaking admiringly—or was it enviously?—of Garrett, saying how clever the man was, but the details are fuzzy. I know I never met Gideon/Garrett at any of the company functions or work Christmas parties.
I wrap my arms around my midsection in an attempt to contain the pain. Abruptly, I’m angry with my family. Tess, my mom, my grandmother. All of them. They encouraged me to take a chance on Gideon, their faces shining with hope that he was the one. Why didn’t they leave me alone? Why did they think they knew what was best for me?
The pain spreads, the sheer force of it dragging me under. I’m forced to acknowledge that it’s not them I’m angry with. No, the person I’m most angry with right now is me. For trusting Gideon. For believing he was different.
It turns out, he’s a liar. And I’m a fool.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
[MESSAGES]
Kate:I need help.
Tess:Anything.
Kate:Can you pick Lisset up from school and keep her with you for a while?
Tess:Of course. What’s going on?
Kate:... [typing]
Kate:I’m falling apart and she can’t see that.
Tess:I’m there in five. Don’t worry, Aaron will see to Lisset. Hang tight. You’re not alone this time.
