Reverse (Bittersweet Symphony Duet #2)

SIXTY “Again”

SIXTY

“Again”

Sasha Alex Sloan

Natalie

D amon and Holly sit on the other side of the booth gawking at me as I suck copious amounts of frozen tequila through a straw.

“You really quit the paper?” Damon asks.

I nod.

“Even though the law firm admitted to the mix-up in sending that email out?” Holly questions next.

Another nod as I slurp back a healthy dose of strawberry-flavored Cuervo.

“And you’re not speaking to Uncle Nate at all?” Holly prompts again.

I shake my head and continue to wet my dry throat as Damon shifts in the booth and Holly rests her forearms on the table.

“You never told Easton you didn’t file?” She asks.

I reluctantly release my straw. “No.”

“So, you married the most beautiful rock star on the planet—who would basically die for you—and then walked away?”

“If that’s how you see it, then sure,” I spout dryly.

“No,” Damon says, keeping my gaze, “she chose herself.”

Releasing my straw, I nod. “No matter what I did, I was damned. It was like being caught between two immovable boulders while constantly dodging a wrecking ball. I finally just had to let it take me out.”

“Jesus,” Holly says. “But he had a right to be angry.”

“Which one?” I ask as Damon poses the same question simultaneously.

“Tell Easton you didn’t file,” Holly says.

“That’s your solution? Tell my husband that the man he was starting to hate filed for me ?”

“See, baby, that’s the whole point,” Damon cuts in, his explanation for Holly. “Fathers typically give their daughters away at a wedding for a reason, which might seem misogynistic in this day and age, but it’s the blessing Nat needs. That was never going to happen, and she couldn’t thrive in her marriage or career because one or the other or both would eventually make her choose. They were already punishing her for it.” Damon shakes his head. “God, that’s so fucked.” He grabs my hand over the table like he did a few weeks ago. “I’m so sorry, Natalie.”

“Technically, your dad wins by default, anyway,” Holly says. “It’s not like you can divorce a parent.” She pauses. “Is that why you quit? To hurt him?”

“No,” my tears threaten and I tamp them down, doing what I have the past week to keep them at bay—letting my anger chase them away.

Anger at the two men who proclaimed to unconditionally love me, but failed to protect me from themselves .

“Nobody’s really right or wrong. That’s the most fucked up part,” Damon concludes after a few minutes. I nod as he keeps my hand while his eyes soften.

“So,” I say, directing my question at Holly. “Will you look after my apartment until I come back? You can squat if you want.”

While Holly’s right in that I can’t divorce a parent, I can distance myself. One day in the future, I’ll forgive my father—but that day isn’t today. Until I do, I’ll be working in Hearst Media’s Chicago office, which I plan on fleeing to with a tequila buzz in a few hours.

Her chin wobbles. “For how long?”

“A month,” I shrug. “Maybe two, maybe more.”

“You’re really leaving?” She asks, sniffling. Memories of the three of us circulate through my mind, running the fields, camping in the stables, sneaking Dad’s beer out, and building bonfires. Family vacations, birthdays, Christmases, graduations, every imaginable milestone, and the less memorable days in between. Sadly, as grownups, we’re supposed to be starting lives and families of our own. I’m just not sure now what that looks like for me anymore.

“I have to, Holly. I have to stand on my own for a while, even if I’m still working under my family’s umbrella and collecting a paycheck. It’s still where I feel I belong. For now, anyway.”

“And your mom is okay with this?” Holly asks.

“See, this is exactly why she’s leaving,” Damon speaks up. “She shouldn’t have to worry about everyone else having a say in her life decisions.”

“Thank you,” I sip my drink. “Thank you for getting it.”

“Well then, I guess I’m sorry I don’t,” Holly huffs indignantly. Damon throws a suit-clad arm around her and pulling her to him, begins whispering rapidly in her ear. Her eyes continually water until she finally speaks up.

“What I meant to say,” she sniffs, looking over to Damon for silent encouragement—which he freely gives—before glancing back to me. “Is that I’m being selfish right now, but only because I’ll miss you. I’ll look after your apartment temporarily, but please don’t stay gone long.”

“Good girl,” Damon admonishes, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“But I don’t have to fucking like it,” Holly pouts.

Damon and I share a smile before he speaks up. “We’ll fly to you in a few weeks.”

“Really?” Holly’s spirits lift instantly. “Like a real trip, together , promise?”

“Swear,” he assures her as she turns to me and smiles.

“Finally. I’m just pissed it took a disaster to get us together.”

Not a disaster, but a decision not to make a decision and walk away from the battle of past and present. A battle I couldn’t keep from happening no matter how hard I tried, which left us all casualties.

Now it’s just a matter of living with it.

As much as I longed to know what it was like to be in Stella’s shoes—as much as I romanticized about having this type of love—I feel cursed now for having known it only to lose it.

My story is going to end far differently than hers.

There’s no white knight in my future that will ever compare, or smooth-talking aristocrat with good table manners derived from any universe that will ever hold a candle to him. No gentleman nor scholar with the right words will ever pierce my soul or penetrate my mind and heart as profoundly as Easton has.

All of this was set into motion by me, so it’s only fair I am the one who puts a stop to it. As a result, my punishment for the foreseeable future is that I have to live with the knowledge that once upon a time—for a glimpse of it anyway—I found the perfect love with Easton Crowne.