I’m unable to respond, shocked to see her gaunt figure. Her cheekbones are more prominent, embedded into her pale face. Dark circles surround her eyes. They shadow the normally exuberant orbs which reflect back every time I look into her beautiful face.
Overall, she appears thinner, her arms are skinny in the sleeveless white blouse she’s wearing. She looks terrible, almost sick.
Is she sick?
Fuck, the panic and wild thoughts consume me.
“What are you doing here?”
“I want to talk to you.” Her expression dulls as her gaze shifts to Krystal. “But you’re busy… I see.”
Krystal stumbles forward, sticking out her hand and introducing herself. “Olly and I were about to grab a nightcap.”
Gabriella fumbles with her purse, bowing her head and unable to maintain eye contact with me. “Listen, this was a mistake. Goodbye, Krystal, enjoy your nightcap.”
She repeatedly presses the elevator button as I quietly suggest Krystal go inside my apartment and wait there.
The anger inside of me swirls like a tornado in waiting, ready to unleash without a thought of the consequence. Seeing her again has resurfaced the memories of the pain and humiliation she’s put me through. It burned so bad through every inch of me, like fire lacing my veins, fast and apathetic to the pain it’s causing. I’m riddled by emotions, the unwanted build-up residing in my stomach waiting to be spat out of my mouth in hurtful words.
“What the hell are you doing here? In case you haven’t noticed, I haven’t wanted to talk to you for the past eleven months, and that hasn’t changed.”
Push her away.
Don’t let her crawl in.
Not now, not ever.
“I understand. I just wanted to apologize—”
“You understand?” I raise my voice, a sinister laugh escaping my lips. “It’s a bit too late for apologies. I think it’s best you should leave. Besides, I’ve got someone here, and she’s waiting.”
It’s the thousand knives stabbing straight into her heart I get some satisfaction from.
Payback for what she did to me.
Revenge should feel so good.
Yet, my desire to watch her crumple by my hurtful actions is suddenly shadowed by remorse.
Lowering her head, her neck almost disappears as she stares directly at the floor. “I… ah… I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have come here.”
As the elevator opens, she steps in, and before it closes, her eyes glance up directly staring into mine. There is so much weight in her stare. The once vivacious and overbearingly annoying girl I had known looks like a former shadow of herself, standing beneath a dark cloud, empty and hollow.
She had always been quick with her wit, the ability to put me in my place when I overstepped the line with careless words. But now, she’s inhibited, as if her voice is no longer hers, her mind is no longer thinking how it used to.
“Goodbye, Oliver.”
The doors close, and once again, she disappears out of my life.
Fuck.
Inside my apartment, I fling myself onto the sofa with my head between my legs ignoring Krystal’s over-the-top commentary about how fancy my apartment is.
I need answers.
No, you fucking don’t.
I scroll through my phone, then remember I deleted her number. I contemplate calling Chance or Aubrey, but something holds me back.
I will go to breakfast tomorrow and ask the burning questions.
Rein in the curiosity.
Open the vault I desperately buried.
Because one thing is racing through my mind and is refusing to settle.
After all the hurt she’s put me through—I still fucking love her.
Oliver
Both Chance and Aubrey have rambled on for a good hour about life back home, work, and my least favorite subject—Pixy.
“The lil’ bugger has been crashing in your room. I’d say he misses ya,” Chance says, cheerily.
He leans back, resting his arm behind Aubrey. The guy looks happy. Even Aubrey appears more relaxed than usual. Her hair looks like it’s been cut, and unlike the time I spent with her in the house, she appears to be wearing makeup which brightens up her normally tired face.
“Say hello for me,” I snicker behind my glass of orange juice.
Beside me, CJ is quietly coloring in a picture the restaurant has given him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this quiet. He’s also grown so much since I last saw him—taller, lost the baby fat around his face, and looking more and more like Chance.
I miss him, and I miss them.
Aubrey continues to carry the conversation, telling us everything she wants to squeeze in over the next few days. They’re flying up to the Gold Coast after Sydney, then a quick trip to the Whitsundays before heading back home.
In all this babbling, not once does she mention Gabriella. My frustration turns to impatience and finally gets the better of me.
“This is all great, but when are the two of you going to fess up about Gabriella being on this trip?”
Aubrey coughs, pulling a napkin to her mouth as Chance drinks his glass of orange juice. A side glance passes between them, each one reluctant to speak up. Very unlike them, indeed.
“Look, it wasn’t our idea,” Aubrey drags, careful with her words. “There’s a lot going on, and other matters which needed um… attention. But she really wanted to apologize to you. There’s just… you know, never mind.”
“But what if I don’t want that? I haven’t once mentioned her name to you during our chats,” I remind Aubrey, airing my frustration.
Aubrey puts her napkin down. “Just give her a chance to explain, okay? You owe her that.”
“I owe her nothing, Aubrey,” I respond, agitated. “You’re aware how it all ended.”
“Hey, don’t take it out on, Aubrey,” Chance fires back. “Stop being a dickhead. The woman still fucking loves you. Give her the damn courtesy of at least explaining what really happened.”
The three of us sit in silence with
