“Don’t come to my apartment. Don’t fucking use your key to come and go as you please. Don’t call me. Don’t text me. Don’t show up at my performances and confront me backstage, because I will make a scene. You’re my enemy now, and I won’t make the mistakes I made before. I won’t stop Damien from killing you. I’ll even help him if I can. So, it’s in your best interest to disappear from my life.” She turned her back to me and headed for the stairs.
I was paralyzed on the spot, my chest caving in with agony. I’d never felt pain like this, not from a stab wound, not from a bullet, not from any physical injury in my life. It was indescribable…like my entire purpose for being alive was walking away. “Catalina.”
She stopped at the top of the stairs and turned to look at me. With one hand on the rail, she held her position, staring at me with icy coldness. The spontaneous and passionate woman I used to know was gone, dead the instant she knew what I did. She didn’t look at me the way she used to, like she was so deeply in love that it completely consumed her. Her fire was out, the fire that used to keep me warm.
“I love you.” I only got to say it to her a few times, and I’d thought if I ever did, it would happen much differently, with her in my arms and then underneath me, making love all night as she whispered it back to me. But I’d never gotten to hear the words echo back at me…and now I never would. “And I always will.”
Twelve
Catalina
I walked to my trash can with the leftovers from my sandwich and pressed my foot on the pedal at the base so the lid would pop open. Before I dropped the scraps, I saw the sunflowers I’d dumped days ago.
I dropped the sandwich right on top of the last visible petals then walked away. The dish was placed in the sink so I could wash it later. Then I walked to the couch, my hair pulled up in a bun, and I drank my wine as I watched TV.
I felt so numb.
The body had fascinating ways of protecting itself, of turning off everything when life was too traumatic to experience in full. Maybe that was why I didn’t feel anything at all, as if nothing had happened. Or maybe Heath’s betrayal was so potent that it changed my feelings instantly, made me see that relationship from a different perspective. Because I didn’t think about him. I didn’t miss him. I didn’t question my decision.
I didn’t feel anything at all.
At the time, I thought that was the most passionate relationship of my life, the kind of relationship that would make you feel alive when nothing else did. I thought it would be a good memory someday, a source of heat when the rest of my life turned cold. But now it was just a big fucking mistake.
Fuck him.
I felt so stupid for my actions, felt so stupid for ever feeling anything toward him. I’d loved him at one point, but that was under different circumstances. If those circumstances changed, how could I still love him?
I couldn’t.
History had been rewritten, and now so had my feelings.
A week had passed since our conclusion, and he’d done as I asked. He didn’t try to contact me, didn’t show up at my apartment, didn’t do any of that obnoxious stuff…thank god. If he showed his face, I might actually shoot him.
I did have a gun—the one he gave me.
A knock sounded on my door.
I turned at the sound, slightly dreading the person on the other side. I set down my glass of wine and walked to the front door. I looked through the peephole and saw my brother on the other side.
I unlocked all the bolts and opened the door. “Hey.” I hadn’t seen him since that conversation in his bedroom. I knew it would be awkward the first time we saw each other, so I tried to push past it.
He held up a bottle of wine. “I saw Conway Barsetti today. He gifted this to me, but I thought you would enjoy it more.”
I grabbed it by the neck and looked at the year. “Wow, it’s like thirty years old.”
“The harvest of his birth year. His father bottled a bunch of it and keeps it in his cellar.”
“That’s sweet.”
“Yeah. I knew you’d appreciate it.”
“I’m not sure I can open it now.” I clutched it to my chest. “I’ll have to save it for a special occasion or something.”
He shrugged. “Being alive is a special occasion, isn’t it?”
I walked to the kitchen and placed it in the pantry. “I’ll save it for my wedding or something…” I selected a different bottle, something less fancy, and grabbed two glasses. “You want some?”
“Sure. But next time, I’ll get you something you’ll actually enjoy.” He approached the kitchen and took the glass from me.
“It’s very thoughtful, Damien. Thank you.” I took a drink, letting the fruity taste of the berries drown my tongue. I licked my lips and looked at the bottle before I looked at him again. “So, what brings you here?”
“Just wanted to see you.”
“We both know you never want to see me,” I teased.
He drank from his glass and continued to look at me. “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly.
He stared at me like that answer wasn’t good enough.
“I confronted him right after we spoke. It’s over.” The rest of the details didn’t matter. He was gone for good.
“Has he bothered you?”
I shook my head. “I told him not to.”
Damien nodded slightly. “Sounds like a clean break.”
“I guess.” I swirled the wine in my glass.
My brother watched me for a while, being soft rather than cruel. Last time we spoke, he was so
