Page 107 of When Stars Collide
“I love you, Mena Straszewski. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you and what I could have done to make things easier for us to be together. What I could have done to be better.”
I shook my head, tears falling freely down my face. “No, Peter. You don’t get to do this.” Turning around to face him, I noticed a glistening in his own eyes. “You don’t get to decide to break my heart and then turn around and decide it was a mistake. What did you expect? That I would just fall back into your arms like the last five months never happened?”
“Of course not. I just … I just wanted you to know.”
“And now I know.” I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand. “Did you expect I would wait around forever for this epiphany to strike you? Peter, I’ve moved on.”
As soon as I said that, I regretted it. Because from the pain overtaking his face, I knew a part of him had been shattered by it and may always be shattered.
“Phineas?”
I nodded. “How did you know?”
“The way he looked at you when we went out to lunch together. It was the same way I look at you. I knew the only thing holding him back was me.”
“And if you weren’t in the picture, I would be free to be with him? A man who could shower me with the things you couldn’t? Seriously, Peter, do you even know me at all? None of that means anything to me.”
“Mena, I—”
“I have to go.” Without looking back, I left Peter standing on the terrace. My legs moved, my feet struck the ground, making quick, sure steps. But I felt none of it. I was too numb to feel anything.
*****
Anticipating a disaster, I walked into my curiously quiet hotel suite, soon discovering why it was so quiet. Alex was sprawled out on the floor, drool dangling from her lip, clearly out for the rest of the night. On the bed, still in their clothes and shoes, Kirsten and Violet were equally as dead to the world. The only person not in sight was Elle, but the sound of her upchucking in the bathroom quickly cleared up the mystery of her whereabouts. When I opened the door, I found her with her head firmly over the toilet bowl, dry heaving.
“And the Razzie for the best worst drunk performance goes to Elle Sloan. Wait a minute. Are you really throwing up again? Kind of milking this, aren’t you?”
“I wish I were milking this,” she said, sounding legitimately miserable.
“This doesn’t make sense. I know you weren’t drinking tonight, and you didn’t seem to be sick. Are you pregnant or something?” Elle and I locked eyes, and I knew I had hit the nail on the head. “You’re pregnant? Holy shit, Elle! That’s great news. Right?”
“Shh. Not so loud. Luke and I are waiting until after the wedding to announce it. Although, at the rate I’m going, I may be showing by the time the wedding arrives. I’ve already had to make alterations to my dress.”
“First of all, you have nothing to worry about with the Doublemint twins out there, or Alex for that matter. The three of them are all passed out.
Elle nodded, flushing the toilet as she stood up to wash her hands and brush her teeth. “You know, morning sickness is such a misnomer,” she said, spitting out her toothpaste in the sink. “Not only am I sick in the morning, I’m also sick in the afternoon, the evening, twilight, dusk. You name the time of day, I’m probably puking.”
We walked out of the bathroom, where she took in the sight of our three fallen comrades.
“See.” I motioned to the three sleeping forms. “You could literally shout out all kinds of salacious details about your sex life right now, and they wouldn’t hear a word.”
“I swear they were all awake only five minutes ago.”
“And now two of them are passed out diagonally on what was supposed to have been your bed.”
“Should we at least pick Alex up from the floor?”
“You’re in no state to lift anyone, and I just plain don’t want to. So, no. Come on.” Elle followed me through the French doors that led to my bedroom. “I guess we’re having a slumber party.”
“Just like back in our dorm days.”
Elle slumped down on my bed. She’d changed out of the clothes she was wearing, donning a pair of sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt that strategically covered her burgeoning bump. She hadn’t smiled much tonight, and when she had, it had seemed forced, like she was only doing it to appease other people.
I sat down next to her. “What is it? Is it the pregnancy? Are you having second thoughts?”
“No, of course not. It’s not the baby. I’m excited for the baby—so is Luke. Yes, it was unexpected. I was on birth control when I got pregnant, but then I began taking antibiotics and, well, oops.”
“And your doctor husband-to-be didn’t think to warn you that could happen?”
