Page 158 of Secrets (The Sins Trilogy 2)
Chapter Sixty-Three
Ivy
I slip into Julie’s apartment, the hollow expression on Tony’s face haunting me. I’ve given up on trying to call him Anthony. It didn’t work to put any emotional distance between us. It only made me think about how he told me to call him Tony from the very beginning, when so many people aren’t allowed to.
I wish he hadn’t asked me if I hated him. I wanted to tell him I did…that I wanted him to pay. But I couldn’t. In reality, I miss him. I miss waking up in his arms, seeing his sweet, boyish smile in the morning, sharing breakfast, talking about our plans, leaning my head on his shoulder on our way to work in his car, and just knowing I’m unconditionally loved by an extraordinary man who knows how broken I am but doesn’t care. Learning that he lied to me tore a gaping hole out of my heart. And time hasn’t worked its fabled healing powers. I can barely pretend to care about anything anymore.
I thought Tony would try to argue or make excuses when I told him I don’t have faith in him anymore. I braced myself for it. But I never expected him to look like I shot him in the heart—stunned, pained and defeated. He looked ready to crawl into a coffin.
He didn’t say a single word. Just got in his car and drove away. The sight should’ve given me some satisfaction—that I made him hurt the way I’m hurting. Instead, I feel terrible, like I just kicked a baby bird that’s fallen out of his nest. And the hole in my heart grows ever bigger.
Part of me wonders if I should forgive him and give him a chance. If not for him, then for myself. What’s the point of this breakup if it’s stripping pieces of my heart every day?
But I’m not certain that’s possible. I’ll probably always wonder if he’s being honest for the rest of my life. I’d be trading excruciating pain for maddening suspicions. We would never be happy again, even if he swore on his life he’d never dupe me. I’d always remember he made everyone around him lie for him. If he was willing to go that far to deceive me, he could do it again if it suited him.
Julie isn’t in, having planned to spend the night at her parents’. I go to the piano and start on Hanon’s Virtuoso Pianist, hoping the mindless finger exercises will sooth my turmoil. Chopin, Liszt and Rachmaninoff—my usual choices—are out of question right now. Have been since I left Tony.
Chopin’s impossible because I realized that the man in my memory—the one who kissed my fingers, and the one who listened as I told him my ambition to be awesomely unique, rather than a Pollini wannabe—is Tony. Liszt… I keep thinking about “Mazeppa” and the recording from Tony. Grand Galop Chromatique—I played that in Hammers and Strings, where he and I first ran into each other in Los Angeles. And Rachmaninoff… Yuna and I played the duet at Tony’s. He was there to listen to our performance.
So that leaves Hanon. Since it isn’t challenging enough for me, I’m playing the whole thing in the fastest tempo—prestissimo. When I’m finished, I see I have another string of texts and missed calls from Yuna. What the hell does she want? I made myself abundantly clear when I called her a lying bitch. She doesn’t get to claim to be my best friend—much less a soul sister—then lie for Tony. That’s the kind of betrayal nothing can redeem.
Regardless, she’s been contacting me at least ten times a day. By now, she should accept that the game is over, rather than trying to annoy the crap out of me. I’ve blocked her six times, but she keeps getting new numbers. This has to be harassment. I’m this close to filing a restraining order. And I want to tell her I’m going to sue her ass if she doesn’t stop, but I don’t. I’m not giving her the satisfaction of a response. She isn’t worth it.
I don’t care that excising her from my life feels like cutting off a finger. I’ll get used to it.
Better to be alone than surrounded by people I can’t trust.
