Page 21 of Let's Be Forever

“Marc? What the fuck?” I clear my throat.

He stands on the driver’s side, staring down at me with concern. “Hi, buddy…” He lifts a careful smile.

Grabbing my keys and wallet from my cupholder, I climb out, slamming the door behind me. “Why were you just standing there? That’s fucking creepy.”

“Giving you a minute. I was afraid you’d bitch slap me,” he replies.

I’m tempted to. “What are you doing here?”

He falls into step next to me. “Checking up on you.”

“There’s no need for that. I’m fine.”

We enter the building and then the elevator. “Right, it shows,” he drawls. “You definitely weren’t beating the shit outof the steering wheel. You are incredibly fine. It really shows because a sane person does exactly that when they’re happy.”

“Marcello,” I grind out, doing my best to contain my agitation. Still, it claws its way out at my next words. “Shut the fuck up.”

I told myself she was better off without me, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. Not since Marc showed up yesterday and broke the news. I’ve thought about what I wanted to say. How I wanted to apologize, wanted her back, needed her back, missed her so desperately. I mulled it over for a few hours and knew there was no possible way I could actually physically stay away. Not when I know she’s living in the same city.

I told Marc I was going to do it and he was on board, saying if there was ever a chance I could fix things, he’d support me. I wish I hadn’t said anything. Now he’s here and all I want is to be left alone and wallow in my stupidity.

Thankfully as we ride the elevator up, he’s quiet. I don’t want to hear him talk and I don’t want to force a conversation I don’t want to have. What is there to say anyway? She wants nothing to do with me.

Once we’re in my condo, I don’t bother with niceties. I grab the only thing I know will numb me, even if only for a few minutes, and head out to the terrace. I stuff a cigarette into my mouth, light the flame to the end, and hear the soft sizzle as it burns the tip.

Marc appears next to me, accompanying me in my misery. But as I stand here engulfed in smoke, I feel disgusted with myself. Anna would hate this. She’d be disappointed that I picked up the habit again.

God, I can’t even allow the numbness to consume me because now I’m feeling guilty for doing it. Dammit.

Dropping my head, I let the cigarette hang from the corner of my mouth, my elbows perched on the guardrail.

The silence between us grows deafening. I want to let it stretch, but Marc is clearly over it.

“What happened?”

I contemplate not answering, consider letting the silence just be, but I decide against it and tell him everything. He grows still next to me, the smoke from our cigarettes coalescing until we’re trapped in a cloud of nicotine.

“‘We’?” He cocks a brow, perplexed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know.” I drag weary fingers through my hair, then wipe my palm down my face and around to my neck, massaging my tense shoulder. “I had no idea what she meant, and she wouldn’t explain.”

Right, I don’t know what I meant by that either.Her voice haunts my thoughts, her hollow smile stuck on pause.

I’ve craved her smiles and I got one, but it was tight and lifted by the force of disdain. I could feel her derision puncture every inch of my skin.

“Did you guys get a pet or something?” He absently rubs his palm over his jaw, a deep furrow in his brow.

“No. We were too busy for that, and she wasn’t even in the country.”

She was in France for culinary school, but we had started talking about her return and getting a home, finally building a future together. Until I messed it all up.

He hums pensively, going quiet again. I think about it too, really dig deep in search of the meaning behind her words, replaying and trying to decipher them.

“‘We are better without you. We don’t need you. We don’t want you here.’”I repeat her words in my head and then out loud, over and over until…

I shoot up, my cigarette almost falling. My eyebrows pinch tight and my heart lodges in my throat. I struggle to breathe.

“Are you…are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he staggers out, voice low. He spins to look at me, eyes narrowed as they rake over my face. “Sy…you don’t think…”