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in my eyes as I peer at him closely. “You’d let her go,” I repeat.

Something really weird happens.

His fight leaves him. He stops moving and grows limp. When I let him go, he’s sliding down the wall, arms over his knees, staring blankly ahead.

“I love her,” he whispers brokenly. “I do love her.”

I step back, giving him room. “Then let her go.”

He looks up at me, his eyes raw with hurt. “I wasn’t always like this.”

I really don’t give a fuck. This guy got to touch her, be with her, share moments with her I will never know about. I wonder if Montcalm is his last name, too. I really should have read that fucking file, but I prefer learning about Ivy the old-fashioned way.

My nostrils flare. “You’re a drunk. You wreak of that poison. Clean yourself up before you even think about fighting for what you care for.”

I step out of the bedroom, surveying the tiny apartment. There’s chaos out here too. My shoes crunch as I step over broken glass and shattered plates. I pause, staring at the tiny living space, at the couch with a blanket and pillow set up. I pull the blanket off and bring it to my nose. Ivy’s scent is imprinted in it.

I swallow hard.

He had her sleep on this sad looking couch this entire time?

I can hear the idiot’s sobs in the bedroom, and I know he’s not going to disappear from her life just yet. He needs that push.

Dropping the blanket, I return to the bedroom and  shut the door.

Nineteen

Ivy

We wait in the car, and it feels like forever before Aidan slips in next to me. He has a stern look on his face as he raps the window with his knuckles and says, “My place, Gaston.”

The car begins to move. I stare at the entrance of the apartment building I’ve called home for two years. I expect Derek to burst out any second, but he doesn’t. When it’s out of view, it feels surreal.

I keep looking out the window, clutching my purse tight. I don’t know what to say. I’m shaking from adrenaline and I’m embarrassed of the scene Aidan walked in on. I can’t even look at him.

I can’t believe all of that happened.

I can’t believe I put myself back in that situation again.

Why didn’t I leave sooner? What was I waiting for?

There’s such an immediate relief being out. I built the hurdle in my head until it felt impossible, but now the weight is falling from around me. I can’t believe how instant this feeling is, kind of like I’m not being squeezed so tight anymore. I take a deep breath and I don’t feel like it’s sitting heavy in my chest.

I’m out. It’s finally over. I won’t go back.

I should be crying, shouldn’t I? But I don’t feel any tears coming. The relief is putting me on a high, but I keep waiting for any kind of pain to settle in. I don’t even feel numb.

Thankfully, Aidan spares me conversation. My eyes are pinned on the darkening streets, but I’m hyperaware of his presence. I feel him next to me. I sense his stares and I hear his light movements.

After fifteen minutes, we’re driving through a very exclusive part of the city. The apartment buildings are sleek and new. We pull into an underground parking lot and Aidan’s driver parks in a reserved parking spot. As we step out, I see Aidan’s blue sportscar parked next to the car. My eyes drag to the car beside that one as well. It’s another high-end car. Yellow this time, and one you see in a magazine. Is that…a Lamborghini? Even in my cloudy state, I’m pretty tongue tied. This parking space is all Aidan’s, and he has like ten cars. Those two cars are the only modern ones. The ones in the back are old fashioned and custom.

I remember the conversation we had on the flight.

“You built these?”  I ask, looking over at him.

He’s already staring at me, his face still solemn. He doesn’t look at the cars I’m referring to. I feel my skin prickle at the intensity of his gaze.

“Yeah,” he finally says.

I hold the purse straps harder as an awkward silence follows. He turns away from me and begins walking.

“Now you follow,” the driver, Gaston, says.

I look at him quickly. He’s an older man, dressed in a black suit, standing by the opened door of the car like he’s about to jump back in. He’s hiding a smile as he studies me.

“Right,” I mutter. “Thank you for the ride.”

He gives me a quick wave and climbs back into the car. I get my legs to move and follow Aidan to an elevator. He’s already pressed the button and has his hands in his pockets, waiting. The elevator opens and we step inside. He scans a key card on the panel and the doors shut.

Unfortunately, there’s no reprieve from his attention. There are mirrors on every wall. I try not to meet his eye, but a couple times I find myself glancing at him. He looks so calm, hair impeccable – hair I am responsible for giving him, and wow, it fills me with pride just looking at how well it suits him. My eyes trail his body. He’s in a dark grey tailored suit, but it doesn’t look as pressed to perfection as normal. I worry he’s had a stressful day and I’ve inconvenienced the shit out of him.

Aidan’s staring at me and he isn’t hiding it. He’s watching my face closely. I can’t figure out his mood.

The elevator ride is quick. The doors open and I feel caught off guard as we walk straight out and into his home. My legs pause and I glance back at the elevator and then around me. I’m in a large marble entrance room of his apartment…or apartment mansion…or penthouse?

“Cool,” I whisper.

Aidan hears my remark and smirks at me. “Take a look around.

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