34. Mandy

Two weeks.

The moment I'd left that event and driven myself home, I'd decided I was done. I didn't talk to him. Blanked him entirely, missed his calls, avoided him with work. I let Harry be in charge of communication with him where it was necessary. I didn't want to talk to anyone besides my mom, Harry, and Amanda—didn't even want to go outside.

I wasn't going to let him break my heart again, even if that was already what was beginning to happen. I wasn't naive enough to let it get to the point of no return. I also wasn't about to get on my hands and knees and beg for honesty from him—I was too far above that and wouldn't dare stoop that low.

I told myself that I'd shed the last of my tears for him when he'd beaten the shit out of Harry instead of showing up for dinner, told myself I couldn't keep this thing that I so desperately had tried to hold onto when he'd only justified his actions. This had to be the end.

I wouldn't put myself through hell again for him.

Granted, I was only so strong. I'd cried a few more times since, mostly on the floor of my shower much to my own dismay, but either way, my point still stood. I was done.

I was barely getting used to the empty feeling on my left ring finger—it was still odd seeingit without the ring. I turned my clipboard over in my hand, my eyes tracing where the indent used to be, thinking about all the wrong things in my life instead of the incredible work we'd managed to achieve within the intended time frame.

The extra workers I'd asked for had been a godsend. The walls were repainted, the tile was finished. Furniture was set, art was hung, the internet was up and running, and all of the light fixtures were installed and working. The walkthrough had gone incredibly well, and now that Jackson's team had moved in and everything was up and running, today was the official grand opening. We'd opened up to the public and to the press, and as I ensured that everything was up to par and perfect throughout, Jackson cut the red ribbon out front.

Just knowing he was nearby was enough to set me on edge.

People filed in one by one, taking in the grand entryway I'd designed—the tile, the light fixtures, and the choice of textured paint. It made my heart race to see their awe, their excitement seeing this new building in the heart of Boulder that I'd designed. Well, Harry too. But in all honesty, it was mostly me.

Things turned into a blur as it ramped up. If Jackson came in, I didn't notice — too many people were talking to me, asking me questions about my designs, and offering me their cards to do work for their own businesses. Normally I'd thrive in that kind of environment, but knowing Jack was around the corner, somewhere here, was draining. Repeating the same things over and over again to different people started to drag. I wished I could have done this with Harry, wished I didn't have to be here alone.

With all of the new potential clients, we were definitely going to need to hire more people. I made a mental note to talk to Harry about it as I left my station, and as I was weaving my way through the crowd of people, a hand roughly grabbed my arm, stopping me on my way into the grand office.

I whipped my head around, fully expecting tanned skin, dark hair, and green eyes to be staring back at me, but instead it was a face I didn't recognize. Plump jawline, short hair, stocky but small stature. "Uh, hello?"

"Congratulations on your engagement," the man said, his grin widening. "I forgot to tell you back in the foyer."

I remembered talking to him although most of the faces had become a blur at that point. "Thanks," I said, sliding my arm from his grip.

"No ring today?" He asked, his eyes grazing up and down the top half of my body. Definitely a creep, but nothing that triggered a warning.

I gave a light chuckle as I forced a smile. "No. It's uh, quite expensive and I didn't want to risk wearing it with this many people around," I lied. I'd never been good at lying, not to anyone, and it was even harder to do it on the spot with a stranger.

He nodded. "Ah, well, all the best anyway."

Too many people had congratulated me on my engagement today, and that was just the icing on the shit cake. I hated thinking about the fake engagement, thinking about the fact that I'd need to actually talk to Jack to sort out the public breakup. It was too much for my mind to deal with on top of everything else, and I could feel the stress and anxiety building in my gut as I took off toward the main office once again.

It had been converted into a ballroom of sorts, something Jackson had mentioned a while ago in his list of requirements. Large space with intricate flooring, main offices but convertible.

Loud music poured from the speakers as I entered the space. Lights had been set up to complement the natural light filtering in from the skylights to accentuate the hanging art we'd commissioned. Drinks were widely available, and there were a lot of people walking around with one in their hand, enjoying the free alcohol and food Jackson had arranged. He wanted to pull out all the stops, wanted to ensure good press about the grand opening.

I scanned the crowd, wishing I could will Harry to be here. I understood his hesitation at coming, even if it meant only half of the faces of LV would be in attendance — one of those two faces was still bruised. Tensions ran high between us, too, and although I'd reassured him that we'd ended things privately, he was still uncomfortable with the public side of it. I just needed to suck it up and find the will to discuss the end with Jack even if it hurt to think about, even if I was hurting myself in the process.

Shit.

Green eyes clashed with mine from across the room, lit by a spare ray reflecting from the hanging fixture above. It was as if he was waiting for me to find him, to dare to look at him, for him to kick into action.

My breath caught as he crossed the space in seconds. I didn't want to speak to him, didn't want to have to deal with this today. That was wishful thinking on my part.

The crowd parted easily for him as if he was fucking Moses. Every part of my body screamed to move, to leave the room, to abandon this project and stop showing my face. I could go home. I could run away.

But my feet wouldn't lift. My body wouldn't turn. That small, minuscule part of me that desperately wanted to fight for whatever we still had left kicked into high gear and I wanted to snuff her out.

"Mandy," he breathed, his eyes flicking between mine wildly. They were hollow, dark circles lining the bottom edges, a hint of scruff at his cheeks. Probably working nonstop.

"Hi," I deadpanned, hoping more than anything that he just had a comment or complaint or anything else to say that wasn't related to us. The music faded, a slower song taking over from the last one. I could already tell where this was going without him even opening his mouth, but of course, he did it anyway.

"Dance with me?"

I fully intended to say no. But every part of me, every single stupid cell in my body, didn't want to say that. That small part was taking over every living, breathing cell it could manage. It wanted to say yes. Because it was him.

And I was shit at ignoring my body when it came to him.

"I… I guess," I sighed, taking his offered hand in mine. One dance. That's it. Take the moment to engage for the last time, bring up ending the engagement, and then we're done.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled me toward the empty patch of the room. Only a handful of couples littered the tile floor, most people only in attendance for business, and as he wrapped his arm around my waist, I couldn't help but notice the number of eyes on us. I hated how easily we slotted together. I hated how easily we moved together, danced together. He kept his mouth shut, not wanting to ruin the moment, but I wasn't able to give him that kindness in return. Not after everything that had happened.

"Tell me, then," I said, locking eyes with him. "Tell me your side."

His jaw steeled. "You don't want to hear it. If you did, you'd have answered my calls the last few weeks."

"You know why I've been distant," I snapped. "I shouldn't have to explain myself. You should."

He sighed as he pushed me out, spinning me around as the music picked up in the chorus. "I know I should. I've wanted to. I tried to."

"I'm giving you the chance now. But this is it, Jack. Take it or leave it." I slammed back into him, my chest going flush with his own. "Tell me what happened between you and Harry. Tell me what was keeping you from me before that."

He took a deep breath, his chest shuddering against mine. "He cornered me in the garage by the old offices."

"Bullshit," I scoffed. "He said it was here. Why would he be at your old offices?"

"It's not bullshit," he hissed. "You want to see my location history? I can fucking give it to you."

I reared my head back, throwing a warning stare at him.

"Sorry, sorry." His jaw hardened again, that little tick in the muscle driving me mad. "Are you going to let me explain or are you going to pick everything apart?"

"That's not up to you."

"Fine." His tongue dragged against his teeth, his eyes getting lost somewhere behind me as we spun. "He was waiting for me in the garage. Came between me and my car, told me he wasn't letting me leave."

I narrowed my gaze at him. "Why would he do that?"

"He didn"t want me to see you," he said, his jaw working. "Kept telling me how awful I am, how I'm only breaking you, how I clearly didn't think this meant anything and was just going to drop you again as if I was some spineless cunt."

He spun me out again, the movements stilted, awkward.

"He said I was chewing you up to spit you back out, and I snapped. I'm not proud of it. But he came to me looking for a fight."

"That's not what he said," I scoffed. "He said it was about the extra workers."

His feet came to a halt as he dragged his gaze back to me. "What extra workers?"

His words struck a chord in me, one I couldn't quite place. Wait. "He said you lost your mind because he took the fall for me hiring in extra hands to get this place done in time. Is that… not…?"

There wasn't a hint of deceit in his eyes as he searched mine for an explanation, flicking back and forth between them. "Why would I have a problem with that?"

"He said the budget was creeping up?—"

"Mandy, I gave you a fucking unlimited budget. I told you to do whatever you needed, whatever you wanted. Did I not?"

"I—"

"He lied to you," he said, each word careful, composed, and pointed. "Fucking hell."

I didn't know what to think, didn't know how to comprehend it. Either of them could have been lying, either of them could have been keeping secrets from me. But there was the overarching issue of Jack being distant the last few weeks, of him keeping things from me, of him not fucking saying that he loved me back.

"Mandy."

"That doesn't explain why you've been distant," I breathed, dropping his hand and taking a step back from him. This was too much to handle here, now, surrounded by people. "You're hiding things again."

The pause he gave made me question everything he'd said to me, every word he'd uttered. "Even if I am," he started, his gaze meeting mine, "you shouldn't concern yourself with it."

I could feel my heart breaking in my chest. It felt like fire, bubbling up from deep down, ten years of weight on top of it. It consumed my chest within the span of a second. "You don't love me, do you?"

His mouth formed a hard line, but he said nothing.

The fire spread, climbing up my neck, down my arms. The backs of my eyes burned, threatening to start the waterworks to cool myself down. I stepped away from him, needing the space, the distance, the time that he'd stolen from me. "I can't do this," I breathed.

"Mandy—"

"No," I said, my voice cracking. "I'm done."