Page 96 of Lovestruck at Sundown
“You know how the story ends,” he said with a chuckle. “Let me in.”
“With my hand leaving an imprint on your face and you walking away to lick your wounds?” I kept my weight against the door out of sheer obstination. William could open the door and come inside if he wanted to. There was no way I could overpower him.
“No. It ends with me getting the girl.”
“Well, the girl is furious tonight.” I kept bumping my shoulder against the door to get him to move his foot.
“I would gladly let you channel your anger properly in bed,” he said. “I’ve been told it’s therapeutic.”
Ugh. Cecile had told me countless times how angry sex was great sex. She’d proven that time and time again with Tobias, who was mostly angry all the time because he couldn’t have her all to himself.
“Stop distracting me!” I whisper-shouted. “Get your foot out of the way. And I’ll talk to you tomorrow when I’ve calmed down.”
“We both know you won’t be any less angry tomorrow.”
He knew me well, but I needed a long shower and to maybe cry a little in peace. There was so much to process. The worry and sadness caused by my dad’s last threat were both creeping up on me like poison ivy. I needed to think about solutions on my own before William started offering to pay for my final year at Parsons.
My dad was cornering me, but there was no way I would end things with William to get his financial support back. I’d rather apply for a scholarship and get a second job on weekends or a side hustle than cave to my father’s wishes.
“The only reason I let you walk out of that elevator was because you told me you’d let me explain,” William reminded me.
“And I will.” I stopped struggling to close the door, but William didn’t try to come inside. “I just didn’t say when.”
“Fair enough.” He pulled his foot out of the way. “What did your father tell you when he set you aside to talk?” William asked through the narrow door opening, but I couldn’t find any words to formulate a response. I couldn’t open this particular can of worms. At least not before he and I talked about our stuff first. But I didn’t want to do any of those things yet.
My silence had to serve as an answer for now.
“Let me know when you’re ready to talk.” He didn’t sound mad but rather like he had finally surrendered. “Good night, älskling.”
The door shut with a soft click. I leaned back against it and slid down to the floor. I curled my legs into my chest, and a choked sob escaped my throat. The tears came hot and fast, hitting me without warning, sliding down my face and dripping on my knees.
Fuck. I thought I’d make it to my room before falling apart.
My mind was going a thousand miles per hour thinking about possible solutions to my father’s decision to stop paying for school. But I also kept asking myself over and over again … why? Why would he want to control me that way? Why would he condition his support?
I decided those were questions I’d probably never have the answer to. So much had happened with my father in the last few months, and I’d been trying to forgive him for all of it, but it seemed like he was determined to keep adding items to our growing list of issues.
We only had each other left, or at least that’s what I had thought for so many years after my mother’s passing. But it was nothing but a ridiculous fantasy I’d concocted as a coping mechanism.
Not only did he manage to constantly remind me of how little of him I had left and how I couldn’t count on him. Not really. But reflecting on his absence in my life led me to accept that our relationship was a mirage.
And now it felt real. I’d finally lost him. Or maybe he’d lost me because I was tired of working on our relationship while he strived to ruin it with his actions.
My own thoughts were conspiring to consume me.
A part of me wanted to go to William’s apartment and let him explain, but I knew myself. The irritation was boiling in the pit of my stomach, and I didn’t want to argue with him when the anger and indignation were so acute. Not only did I want to avoid lashing out at him, but I was also afraid that something would happen that would get in the way of our relationship. I refused to believe he would lie to me about something like that, so I was stalling. What if he confirmed he had done that against my knowledge and gave me an explanation to try to justifywhyhe did it?
I wasn’t emotionally ready for the perfect image I had of him to collapse.
Determined to stop feeling sorry for myself, I stood and removed my coat, letting it drop on one of the foyer chairs, and walked to my room while unzipping my red silk dress. I let it fall to the floor once I was inside my room and stepped out of it. My shoes came out next, and then I walked into the shower.
It was hard to tell if I was still crying under the hot spray, but the unyielding tug in my chest suggested I was. And it made me feel so freaking alone. I knew I wasn’t. I had William, even if I was mad at him. The Sjöbergs and my friends were also a great support system. But there’s nothing like finding yourself in an emotionally challenging situation to make you feel alienated from the rest of the world. It’s like you’re the only one going through something awful, and no one can understand how you’re feeling.
After showering, I brushed my teeth, changed into cozy pajamas, and blow-dried the excess moisture from my hair. I was determined to try to get some sleep when I saw a small envelope right off where the invisible door separated our rooms. I picked it up and examined it.
The envelope was sealed with a Lisa Frank unicorn sticker. My heart swelled with feeling as I chuckled under my breath. William could’ve walked in through this door and demanded we talk, but he was respecting the space I’d asked of him.
Fuck, I love him so damn much.
