Page 32 of If the Suit Fits
I toss the microphone to the drummer, then, picking up my skirts and starting toward the stairs, I head down and blow past my mother when she bustles my way. I shove Drew aside and move through the door, and though I hear Nick’s shouted, “Mel!” I keep going.
Because if I stop, I might crumble. And if I crumble, I mightn’t get up again.
“Hey?” Nick’s feet pound against the floor as he runs to catch up, while on the other side of the hallway wall, chatter and heatedarguments explode.Maybe guests are asking for their gifts back. “Princess? Hey!”
I breach the building’s front doors and step into the perfect nighttime breeze, but Nick is fast on his feet—former athlete, of course. He grabs my arm, spinning me so fast, I fear I might go flying if not for his grip and the way he yanks me back.
“What the fuck, Mel?” He laughs. His eyes are beautiful and bright and so, so adoring. “You just set that entire party on fire. But then you went and litusup, too?” His lips curl higher on one side. “You didn’t have to dox us. I wasn’t gonna say anything.”
“I needed to,” I rasp. “For me. For my healing, I needed to tell them, own it, and still be proud. But don’t worry.” I reach under my skirt and tug an envelope from my garter. Pressing it to his chest, I take a step back when he releases me to catch it. “It’s only two grand, which means it’s not a very fat envelope. But you did great, okay?”
I skip down the stairs and onto lush green grass the groundskeeper nurtures the way a mother—mostmothers, but not mine—nurture their babies. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Truly.”
“Wait.” Bounding down the stairs and skidding around to stop in front of me, he grabs my arm again and holds me still. “That’s it? You’re leaving?”
“I have to.” With a shaking hand, I swipe my tears aside. “I need some privacy right now, or I’m gonna lose it. I really, really don’t want to do that here.”
“So I’ll drive you.” He gestures toward the parking lot. “I brought my truck, and we’re heading in the same direction. Climb in, and I’ll take us home.”
“We’re not going in the same direction.”Stop crying. Stopcrying. Stop crying. “You’re going somewhere else, and I’m going home.”
“No, I?—”
“Please?” A sob wracks through my chest and steals the air from my lungs. “Please, Nick? Let me leave. I want to be alone. Ineedto be alone.”
“I don’t want you to be alone.” Folding his neck, he rests his forehead on mine. “I can’t walk away, Mel. I can’t leave you like this.”
“I paid you!”Burn another bridge. Do it! It’s easier that way.“Your job is done! You did it really,reallyfucking well. But now it’s over, and we’re finished.”
“I’mnot finished! I have a contract that says?—”
“The contract was bullshit! Literal bullshit. It was not legally binding. It willneverstand up in court. It was a token of our agreement and a good way for me to feel like I was in control of something for once in my life. But the job is done. Jesus.” I shove away from him and snatch up my skirts so they don’t drag in the moist grass.God forbid I mess up the taffeta.“You can swing by tomorrow, if you like, to pick up your things. I’ll be in my office with the door closed and music on, and I have a deadline Ihaveto meet. Please don’t knock.”
I glance back for one last look. It’s selfish and self-serving and ultimately, horrifically self-destructing, because I thought I would see that beautiful man who makes my heart skip a beat. The one who taught me about love, the real, genuine, altruistic kind, for the first time in my life. I thought I would get one last peek at the devilishly sexy Nicolas Ramos.
Instead, I’m treated to a man broken. Eyes that are usually so strong and sure, shattered and sad. Broad shoulders that couldhave, in another lifetime, carried his family to football glory, but now they fold in and make him look smaller. A chest I love, with my whole heart and soul, to rest against, pounding and racing, in search of air.
I thought I would see strong.
Instead, I witness, again, the damage my existence causes.
“I’m sorry.” Tears spill over and blur my vision. A small mercy, really. But I catch the telltale yellow of cabs on the street, just waiting to take Cinderella home. “I’m learning to take up space again. But for this,” I point between him and me, “for the hurt I’ve caused, I wish I occupied none at all. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” I swallow and choke down the tears bubbling in my throat. “Thank you for sharing your family and showing me what real love could look like.”
“Stay with me, Princess.” He doesn’t charge forward, which is something two-weeks-ago-Nicolas would absolutely do. Another ding I’m responsible for. Damage I’ve caused to a perfectly amazing man. “I’m asking you to stay,” he rasps. “We had a deal, and I’m not ready to let that go yet.”
“Thank you for teaching me to love myself again. I’m not there yet,” I amend, coughing to clear my throat. “But I have direction now, and because of you, I know what it looks like. So when I find it, I’ll know. I’ll think of you.”
“Mel—”
“Say it once more?” I drop the fabric of my dress so the ends sit in the grass, and my heart pounds between us. My gift to him, perhaps. Or to me. I’m not sure. “Since you speak of the contract,” I try to joke. “Say it one more time. It might be the last I hear for a while.”
His eyes flicker between mine, long sweeps andan adoring gaze. But he tucks his hands into his pockets and nods, licking his lips so I follow the movement and wish it was my lips. My tongue. “I love you, Princess.” He closes his mouth again, his jaw clenching and visible under the moonlight. “More importantly: you deserve to be loved.”
FIFTEEN
MELANIE
I’m not sure what I expected of my life after Nicolas Ramos was in it. Whether things would be easier or worse. Harder or gentler. Busier or plain boring. I’m not sure I even considered what life would look like. But Idoknow sleeping all alone in my home after a week with him in the next room is damn near impossible. My bed is no longer comfortable. My pillows, hard as a rock. My safe space where, in the past, I felt pure contentment, is now nothing more than a room void of anything worth staying for.
