Chapter 31
i hope she never looks your way again
DOMINIC
February
The smell of pizza, something I usually love, makes my stomach turn.
The flickering candlelight makes my head pound.
Remi is still on my lap; my hands are still on her hips.
She’s whispering in my ear, but my brain doesn’t register her words.
I’m too focused on the door Mia just disappeared through.
My whole world just walked out of this apartment, and I let her go.
Inhaling deeply, I crane my neck away from Remi. She pulls back, her lips spreading into a wide smile, and traces a line down my neck with her fingernail.
“Your plan worked,” she murmurs. “That little girl will never bother you again.”
I swallow, and it’s painful, as though there’s broken glass in my throat.
“What are we going to do now?”
Expression flat, I say, “You’re leaving too.”
She rears back, her hands falling to her sides. “Are you fucking serious?”
I lift her off my lap and place her on the couch beside me. I stand, snag my cigarettes off the table, and turn to face her.
Arms crossed over her chest, she taps her foot on the floor. I can see her brain working, scheming. Eventually, she lets out a humorless laugh.
“You used me.” She stands from the couch.
With a grunt, I light my cigarette, take a long drag, and blow the smoke out slowly. “I’ve been honest from the moment I texted you. I needed your help; that’s all. This was a ruse and you knew it. How the fuck did I use you?”
She stands and saunters closer, her hips swaying. “Come on, Dom. Let’s not pretend. You wanted her out of your life, and we made that happen. I love you, and I don’t care what you did.”
She brings her hand to my cheek, but I take a step back before she can make contact.
“Don’t,” I warn her. “Don’t touch me.”
She drops her hands to her sides, huffing. The sound is muffled. White noise. Her figure is blurry and distant. Now that Mia is gone, I can’t feel a thing.
With a shake of her head, Remi takes her jacket from the couch and yanks it on. “You’re an asshole. I don’t know why I thought I could change your mind.”
She turns on her heel and strides toward the door. Halfway there, she stops abruptly, returns to me, and slaps me across the cheek.
I don’t flinch. I barely feel it, barely hear the cracking sound when her palm meets my face. Staring past her, I take another drag of my cigarette.
“I hope you loved her,” she hisses.
I do.
“I hope she never looks your way again.”
I hope so too.
“Because you, Dominic Watson, don’t deserve anything good. You’re a real piece of shit.”
I exhale a cloud of smoke and nod. “I know.”
Scoffing, she bolts to the door. She slams it, making the artwork Mia hung rattle against the walls. With that, I’m certain the twisted connection Remi and I had for so long is finally over. She will never come back.
So, in a way, I set both girls free.
What a gentleman.
I stand near the couch, my cigarette between my fingers, my chest suddenly tightening in a way that almost has me doubling over.
The cigarette is not enough. Not for this.
Not for the pain that grows with every breath I take.
So, I crush it against the top of the coffee table and go for the stash I swore I wouldn’t touch but brought into this apartment anyway.
I drop to the couch and roll a blunt. Then, I light it and take a long, slow pull.
Head resting on the cushion behind me, I stare at the ceiling, wishing I could flip a switch and turn the world off, wishing the pain would go away. Fuck, what I’d give to forget the hurt look she wore when she walked in.
Instead, the weed only makes my senses sharper. It makes the memories more vivid. It slows them down so I can remember every detail.
Fuck. I want to scream.
The scene plays in my brain on repeat. The way her eyes dulled and the color drained from her face. The way she walked to this fucking table, head held high, shoulders rolled back.
She looked like a queen.
Like a fucking goddess.
Her pain was palpable, rolling off her with such force, it swamped me, stole my breath, but fuck if I’m not proud of the way she handled herself.
The way she walked away without a single word, not a single glance back.
The way she closed the door without hesitating.
In that moment, I knew I’d done what I set out to do.
I take another drag of the joint. Her scent still lingers in my apartment, above the weed and tobacco and pizza. My body still remembers the weight of her on top of me. My palms twitch, remembering how soft her curves were under my touch.
Those memories are quickly replaced by the image of her face tonight. I ruined everything. She hates me. She’ll never want to look at me again.
It was exactly what I wanted. Now, the world is in balance again. I can’t take from her any longer, and with any luck, Monica will leave her alone.
Maybe I should’ve realized how wrecked I’d feel, but it rattles me to my core. I don’t know if I’ll survive this.
Hauling myself up, I put out the joint and shuffle to bed. Without undressing, I fall face first onto the mattress and close my eyes, praying for a dreamless night.
But karma is a bitch, and Mia Ashton lives in my mind. Though I broke her heart, in my dreams, she still belongs to me.
Cool, calm, and collected—at least on the outside—I lean against my Tahoe, waiting for Mia to exit the building. On the inside? I’m dead. My heart has shattered, and there’s nothing left of me. Her class starts in a few minutes. She should be here anytime.
I stuff my hands into my pockets and ball them into fists to keep my fingers from trembling.
The sound of footsteps draws my attention to a group of people walking down the sidewalk.
Mia, Chiara, Jeff, and Tessa. They walk toward the building, Mia’s friends chatting away.
Mia, though, is silent, her focus fixed ahead.
Chiara notices me first, and her eyes flare.
She knows what I did, that’s clear, and from the look on her face, she’s not my biggest fan.
Welcome to the club. I’m not a fucking fan of me either.
When Mia sees me, she stops in her tracks.
Chiara tugs on her hand. “Please. You don’t have to talk to him.”
But Mia shakes her off and peels away from the group, heading for me. Her lips are pursed into a thin line, but the rest of her expression is unreadable, as if nothing bothers her. Fuck, it hurts to see her like this.
Because I know she’s hurting on the inside, that she doesn’t feel safe showing her emotions.
Because she’s still mine.
She’s still everything I want.
But I can’t have her, and it’s for the best.
She stops in front of me, her arms folded over her chest. We lock eyes, but not a single emotion passes behind her irises.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, voice even. It takes every ounce of my self-control to not reach for her, to not haul her into my chest and beg for her forgiveness.
I did the right thing.
I know it.
“I saw Remi last night, and I realized how much I missed her,” I continue, as if the lie doesn’t feel like poison. “I’m not over her. I never was.”
For an instant, Mia’s eyes flicker, and I swear there’s pain. But then she blinks, and there’s nothing. The look she gives me is cold and dull.
“That’s all?” she asks.
I ball my hands tighter, torn between sending a fist through the driver’s window of my Tahoe and throwing her over my shoulder and taking her home.
“I think it’s better if we don’t see each other.”
She lifts one shoulder and lets it drop. “Okay.”
I frown, my mask crumbling. The knife in my heart twists when I realize she’s not going to show even an ounce of anger.
She won’t demand an explanation or lob insults.
Emotionally, she’s absent. That pains me more than anything—the thought that I wrecked her so completely, she’s dissociated from her emotions.
Have I pushed her past the point of no return?
Fuck, I hope not. All I want is for her to be happy.
Without another word, she turns and rejoins her friends. And, hopelessly, I watch them walk into the building.
When I step into the shop twenty minutes later, Dad and Miles are already here, working on a black Jeep. Thankful they’re occupied, I head straight for my locker, keeping my head down.
Suddenly, my dad appears in front of me, a look of concern on his face. “You look like shit.”
Miles comes closer too, wiping his hands on a rag. “Yikes, man. You had one day off. What the hell could’ve happened in that time?”
I slip my hands into my pockets and shrug. “Mia and I broke up.”
They stare at me, silent, unblinking.
Eventually, Dad shakes his head and puts his hand on my shoulder. “Kid—”
“It’s okay.” I look from him to Miles. “It’s okay.”
I turn and pull my coveralls from my locker. Once they’re on, I head straight for the Ducati. I can feel their eyes on me, and the weight of their prolonged silence presses on my shoulders.
Determined to lose myself in my work, I tune them out.
This is my one salvation. Long ago, my dad taught me that when everything falls apart, a person can find peace in their work.
There’s no tool that’ll repair a broken heart, no magic pill, but if I just keep my hands busy, maybe the work will distract me from thoughts of her.
And maybe if I pretend I’m fine, one day, eventually, I might be.
June
I didn’t plan to be here. In fact, it’s the last place I should be, but here I am.
The airport is crowded, the conversations of passersby and announcements making it difficult to hear myself think.
I watch her from afar, something I have mastered in the four months since our breakup.
We haven’t had a single conversation since the day I showed up on campus to officially end things, not even a greeting, but I’ve seen her around town.
Every time, she looked as beautiful as ever, healthier, brighter.
And today, she’s fucking stunning.
She’s wearing a short pink sundress with white sneakers.
Her long hair is down, trailing over her shoulders in soft waves.
She and Chiara stand near the TSA line with Dad, Monica, and Matt, as well as Chiara’s parents.
They’re sending their girls off for a summer in Italy.
For a summer with Luke, just like Mia wanted.
And according to Matt, even her mother dearest isn’t against it anymore.
The moment we broke up, things started looking up for her.
Matt swears she and her mom barely fight anymore, and she passed all her classes.
She quit her job at Luigi’s, though I have a sneaking suspicion she did it mostly to avoid me, since I eat there pretty regularly.
Our breakup gave her more time with her friends and more time to study and work on her freelance projects.
Her Instagram grid is full of the art she’s been creating, and it’s all perfect.
This is exactly what I wanted.
She steps up to Matt, who engulfs her in a hug, whispering something in her ear. Jealousy spreads across my skin like wildfire, because hugging her is a privilege I’ve lost.
I’m a stupid fuck, jealous of a brother hugging his sister.
Her mom hugs her next, then my dad. He holds her close and whispers in her ear too. When he does, she rears back, her mouth forming a little O.
Fuck, I’d give anything to know what he said to her to make her look like that.
Finally, she takes a step back and surveys her family.
I don’t know why I step forward, but when I do, the movement catches her attention, and she zeroes in on me. Under her scrutiny, I stop breathing. I wait for her reaction. I wait for anger or tears. Instead, all I get is a blank look.
My heart sinks deeper, my stomach twisting. I deserve it, but it still stings.
With one final wave to her family, she and Chiara turn and walk away.
I stay where I am, even after they’ve made it through security, even after our family is gone. My pulse hammers in my ears, my vision darkening, and I grit my teeth harder.
She’s gone. Out of reach. Out of sight.
And she took my heart with her.