49. One Last Time, Ariana Grande
"One Last Time," Ariana Grande
Cruz
“Almost done, let’s finish strong. One last working song before cooldown.” I said, checking everybody’s lunges as the summer breeze cooled my sweat. The synthesized beats pounded as I sang along with Ariana Grande, encouraging my clients to push through one last set before promising to let them go.
Tori’s Audi pulled into the parking lot. I assumed she’d walk to meet me after work … but maybe she was picking me up so I could shower before an early dinner reservation.
Or maybe we’d skip dinner and stay in to finish what we’d started before work.
She’d seemed different this morning—so open and honest, like there was nothing between us. And when she’d giggled? Jesus, it took all my willpower not to drag her back home, to keep her in bed all day instead of going to work.
A car door slammed. With a giant smile on my face, I turned for a glimpse of my girl.
And my heart stuttered.
She wasn’t the same woman from this morning. My Tori had been radiant in her casual sundress, hair loose around her shoulders, kissing me goodbye before breezing into her office.
This Victoria was a hollow replica: hair in a severe bun, wearing a conservative dress and sky-high heels, leaning against her trunk with arms crossed.
Shit.
Instinctively, I moved towards her. Emotion flashed in her eyes before reverting to a cool gray. She calmly held up her palm to stop my advance, then flicked her wrist to indicate I should finish up first. The distance pulsed between us, heavy and uncomfortable.
I returned to my students, forcing cheer. “One more minute, don’t quit until the end!” I yelled, pushing through the fear in my chest. I shortened the cooldown, shoved all my equipment into my bag, and rushed over, heart pumping from more than squats. I tried to act normal, planting a kiss on her cheek. “Hey baby, I wanted to shower before dinner. I thought we were meeting at home.”
She winced at the word ‘home,’ and my heart slammed into my ribs.
“Tori?” I asked, drumming on my leg. “What’s going on?”
“I—” her voice cracked. She cleared her throat, eyelids dropping shut. “Richard died.”
“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” I knew how much he meant to her, even if she couldn't talk about it. I held out my palm, face up.
She unfurled her arms and inhaled deeply, but didn’t reach for me.
So it was like that.
Tears stung. My voice came out in a choked whisper. “When?”
She inhaled deeply before her lashes fluttered open. “Yesterday.”
“Oh,” I said, like a complete dumbass. But what the hell was I supposed to say? “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. He …” Her hands fidgeted before she caught herself and smoothed her skirt. “I’m his heir. I have to go to New York to sort out his estate.”
The air escaped my lungs so violently that I had to suck a breath in. “For how long?”
For just a second her expression looked like a lost child before it shifted to a mask of calm composure. “He left me Sinclair Larsson.”
She turned away. I followed her gaze through her car’s back windshield, catching Alex watching in the rearview mirror. He quickly averted his eyes. A cat carrier moved in the back seat, between two suitcases.
Goddammit.
I interlaced my hands behind my neck, cursing the cloudless July sky. Today was too beautiful for my life to fall apart. “He’s going too?”
“Just for the press conference tomorrow. Connor and I will work at headquarters.” Her voice broke on that final word, those silver eyes blinking back tears.
My heart was shattering, but hers was, too. I unraveled my arms and wrapped them around her shoulders, and she sniffled against my neck.
Ask me to come, I pleaded silently. I’ll give you everything I have.
But everything I had was nothing she needed.
Her body shook, her hands gripped my shirt … but her sobs were silent. So I held her, trying to memorize her perfect fit in my arms.
When she pulled back, tears lined her eyes. My sweet girl was back, just for a moment. Her hand rose between us, ready to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, but after a moment of hovering in front of my face, she dropped it at her side.
She lurched away, bracing her hands on the trunk with a shuddering breath. “I have to go. They’re expecting me.”
She rounded the corner to the passenger seat and opened the door.
“Tori, wait,” I said, stepping forward as if I could block her path. “I …”
Her hopeful gaze lifted to meet mine over the top of her sports car. Her fingertips tapped against the top of the door.
I almost blurted it out. I love you. Ask me to go to with you.
Don’t leave me.
But I didn’t. What was the point? She may have been standing in front of me, but she was already gone.
When I couldn’t speak, she shook her head, blinking back tears. She whispered, “I’m sorry I can’t be what you need.”
The car turned down South Broadway. I watched until the taillights were specks before I doubled over in a scream that left my throat raw.
I always knew she’d leave me for another man.
I hadn’t predicted that man would be her father.