Chapter 30
“Breathe” - Taylor Swift + Colbie Caillat
Saylor
My chest is so tight it’s hard to breathe. Rhett’s words have punched two massive holes in my lungs, and I have to fight to get enough oxygen. He moves toward the door, presumably to attend the after-party.
I glance in the mirror over the dresser. My face is mottled from my tears, what’s left of my mascara now running in twin black streaks down my cheeks. The T-shirt I’ve been wearing all day is wrinkled. “Do you want me to come with you?” I say. It will only take me two minutes to freshen up.
He stops with his hand on the doorknob but doesn’t turn around. “I don’t know why you would.”
There’s a soft thud as his words hit my heart, and I bow slightly from the impact. “Because that’s why I’m here?”
He slowly turns toward me, his dark eyes dull and lifeless. “You’re here because I wanted you here. Right now, that’s not the case.”
The door closes behind him, and I slump onto the bed. My heart crashes to the floor, shattering in spite of the plush carpet. This is it. The whole thing is over. Whatever we had, whatever we were, is in the grave.
I don’t know how long I lie there crying.
Thirty minutes maybe? When my inner well runs dry, I sit up and glance around the hotel room.
Rhett’s and my things are strewn around together like a normal couple’s.
His jeans over the back of a chair, my bra on top.
Our phone chargers tangled together because there was only one outlet next to the bed.
The shower holds both of our shampoos—mine a generic drugstore brand, his an expensive French one I can’t even pronounce.
I used it once, then walked around all day sniffing my hair because it smelled like him.
The memory releases a small reservoir of tears I didn’t know existed. On impulse, I grab my stuff from the shower and shove it in my bag. I clear the vanity of my makeup and skin care, dumping all of it into my suitcase, not even caring if it spills.
I have to get out of here. If Rhett doesn’t want me around, if I no longer serve the purpose of fake girlfriend, the only thing my presence will do is make things worse for him.
I’ve ruined enough of his life. The best thing I can do is leave so he can pick up the pieces without me shattering any more of them beyond repair.
Most of my clothes are in the closet on the bus, but I retrieve the items discarded around the room and shove them in my suitcase. I change into a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt from uni. My breakup clothes get pushed to the bottom of the bag. I’ll probably never wear them again.
I should’ve filed for divorce sooner, made sure everything was squared away before leaving the country. I thought I had time, because I was never planning to go with Rhett in the first place, and I really needed that housing stipend.
And what do I have to show for my stupidity? A broken heart for me and a ruined career for him. I have no doubt any brokenheartedness he’s currently experiencing will be soothed by the first girl he takes home after the party tonight. A week from now, he won’t even remember Saylor Jones.
I stick my head out the door. Fortunately, Leo is still stationed outside. Part of me was afraid Rhett had dismissed him the way he dismissed me. “Can you help me carry my bags?” I ask the PPO.
A faint look of surprise crosses his face. “Are you sleeping on the bus tonight?”
“I need to stop there for the rest of my things, but I was wondering if you could take me to the airport? I have a family emergency.”
Concern replaces the confusion, and he nods. “Of course.”
Once I’ve retrieved my stuff from the bus, I rejoin Leo, who is standing by with a car. It’s started to rain, which only feels appropriate, and we drive to the airport in dreary silence. What is there to say? Leo has never been much of a talker, and words have become foreign entities for me.
True to my nature, I ruined the person I cared most about. The only thing left to do is hope this publicity helps his record sales. I may not be able to undo the damage, but at least I can save him from me.
Once we’re at the airport, it occurs to me that there may not be any available flights until tomorrow, but sleeping on the hard plastic chairs is still preferable to facing Rhett’s anger and disappointment in the hotel room.
Leo helps me get my bags to the ticket counter, where he deposits them at my feet. “I hope things are okay with your family,” he says.
I feel bad for lying to him, but I can’t bear to tell him the truth and see the disappointment in his eyes. “Thank you,” I murmur. “For everything.”
He shifts uncomfortably. “It’s been my pleasure.”
After he walks away, I heft my bags into my arms and make my way to the smiling receptionist. I explain the situation to her, and she says she’ll see what she can do. Several minutes later, she announces that she was able to transfer my ticket to a red-eye flight leaving in two hours.
Gratitude washes over me when the realization hits that I’m heading home. I’m finally going back to Wesbourne, where I’ll be able to duct-tape my heart back together. It won’t be pretty to look at, but at least it won’t be strewn about my chest as though someone hacked it to pieces with a machete.