Chapter 34
I’m staring at the ceiling, finding shapes in the shadows of every corner when I hear it.
Knock, knock, knock.
Simón. I went back to the restaurant to look for him, but he wasn’t there.
I stopped by his room too. Same story. The only other place I could think of was the wrap party, which made the most sense, since it would have been strange if he missed it.
But I couldn’t bring myself to go. There was no energy left in me to pretend in front of everyone.
I rush to the door and yank it open.
“You and Simón?” my mother says as soon as we’re face-to-face.
I deflate.
She’s in a sequin dress she wasn’t wearing when the whole Alejandro-shows-up-out-of-nowhere disaster happened. For once, her makeup isn’t intact, her forehead and cheekbones are a little bright.
I turn my back on her and walk back to the bed.
I don’t know why it bothers me that she clearly went to the wrap party, danced, ate, and then came to check on me.
The wrap party wasn’t optional for her or for Simón.
It was as much part of her job as making the show and doing press.
Logically, I know this. And I am nothing if not logical.
So why does it piss me off that she’s here now, and not before?
“Maria Antonieta,” she calls after me, her voice stern. “You and Simón?”
I sit on the bed and grab a pillow to hug. “No. Not really. I don’t know.”
“It was all that time you spent together,” she decides. “You can’t spend that much time together with a man like him and not expect something to happen. Believe me.”
I hug the pillow tighter as I stare at my mother.
I do believe her. I saw it happen—our lives drastically changing over and over because she got a little too carried away with a co-star and had to get another divorce.
She’s a romantic, that’s what she used to say.
All artists are romantics. I guess I’m more like her than I’d like to admit. The thought makes me nauseous.
“He looked absolutely miserable at the party,” she says. “If I’d known, I never would have—”
A knock on the door interrupts her. It’s him. I know it’s him. Before I can stand up, my mother is at the door. I can’t see from where I’m sitting, but the look she gives me before walking out is enough to confirm.
Simón steps in two seconds later. He didn’t change for the party, of course. He thought we were going to the party. The door clicks shut when he leans against it, hands hidden behind his back as if he has to restrain himself from touching me.
My hands fist in the pillow. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he replies, voice hoarse. “Are you okay?”
I shrug one shoulder. “Are you?”
“Yeah.”
We stare at each other for one second…two…before he tips his head back and sighs.
“Say it,” I plead. “I can take it.”
Simón lowers his gaze to me, shaking his head. “I like you so much.”
I’m nodding. “I like you too.”
“Falling in love with you would be so easy,” he says.
I agree. Falling in love with him would be too easy. As easy as quitting. As easy as taking an airplane to Colombia with him and letting him suck me into his world. I would be head over heels before we landed.
Simón swallows hard before he finally takes a step toward me.
“But?” I say.
“Last night, before you kissed me,” he says. “I asked you what you wanted.”
Yes. “I said I wanted you.”
“But you didn’t,” Simón says. “You kissed me, sure, but you didn’t say you wanted me.”
“Simón—”
“I’m leaving,” he continues. “And you just got out of a long-term relationship with someone you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. I know what that’s like.
It wouldn’t be fair to you if we started something now.
If something happens between us, I want to be there to figure it out with you.
” My throat tightens. “And…it wouldn’t be fair to me to start something with you when you might still need to mourn your relationship. ”
I push to my feet. “Wait—”
“I know you think it’s over,” he cuts me off. “I know you think you’re past it, but you were running after him just three hours ago.”
“You told me—” I begin, pathetically.
“I know what I said,” he replies. “I don’t resent you for going after him, it’s what you had to do. He wasn’t a fling. I am a fling.”
“You believed him.” I blink tears away. “When he said I used you to get revenge on him. You believed that.”
Simón shakes his head. “I know that’s not who you are. I know you think you want me. Trust me, I want you too. But you wanted to marry him. And I am not him. I can’t change my life. I can’t change my profession. Neither can you. And you shouldn’t, I don’t want you to.”
I’m crying. Again. Pressure grows in my chest. It hurts, like my heart is being crushed to pieces. I want to soothe it, but I’m numb.
Simón takes another step toward me, and another, until we’re standing so close I need to look up to see his face. He places both hands on my neck, a feather touch. His thumbs graze my cheeks, catching my tears. “I would have loved for us to have a chance because I think you and I could be…”
He trails off, swallowing.
“I think so too,” I confess.
“I just—” He clears his throat. “I can’t be the man you’re with when you realize you need to be alone.
I don’t want to have that conversation with you.
I also don’t want you to resent me for not being there.
I don’t want to resent you for demanding more than I can give. I can’t do that again, Marianto.”
I nod. I understand. I do. Logically, it makes sense.
It’s better to end things sooner rather than later, when our lives are tangled together, when our friends have followed one another on Instagram, and when our hearts have synced to beat at the same time.
He’s listing all the reasons why I knew it would never work. He’s right. Isn’t he? He’s right.
I nod again, more emphatically.
Simón pulls me to him, circling my shoulders with his arms. I bury my face in his shirt, fighting sobs.
“I’m sorry I got in the way of everything you wanted,” he whispers.
You’re everything I wanted, I think. But I’m not brave enough to say it.