34. Chapter 34

Ican't accept that Alec unofficially broke up with me. How did he know the Swedish words I'd said to him? I have to believe after he calms down, he'll come back so we can work this out.

Confessing I love him is a manipulation. Clearly, he wouldn't believe me and will always question my timing.

Telling him in Swedish that he was my life and my everything felt safe. But he'd known what I said and hated me for it. He'll take a day to calm down and we'll figure this out.

We have to figure this out.

I won't accept that we're over.

I'll make him see that we're meant for each other.

Insidious thoughts barge into my head. I shouldn't have to make him see. He should know.

My gut clenches with the idea that Alec isn't having a dramatic moment. He doesn't love me back and left. He insisted the relationship was fake, but I thought we'd moved past that.

He doesn't answer my call but I won't leave my plea in a voicemail. Do I beg him to be with me? Do I push a long-distance relationship on him, or do I accept that this isn't what he wants?

I won't let him go without a fight.

I can't tell him he's my everything and pretend it's not true. I'm going to let the sculpture of us do the talking and hope he loves me enough to endure a temporary separation.

My thumb hovers over a blank text. If I tell him I miss him already, it's pointing out our problem. If I tell him my heart is aching for him, he won't believe me. He'll see the truth in my eyes. I write three words. Not the three words I long to say, but, ‘please call me.'

If he doesn't call tonight, I'll go to him tomorrow.

There's a sharp banging on my door and I trip over myself to get to Alec.

I swing the door open and a tear-stained Madyson flings herself into my arms. "Von, what are we going to do? I can't believe this happened."

She lets me go and crosses the room to flop on the couch. "We need to figure out what to do. This is terrible timing."

I'm touched she wants to help with Alec, but he's still upset with her.

"Thank God for technology because we can Skype you in on the TV."

"What do you mean?"

"Your show, Von. We have two days to set up your show." By her expression, she thinks I've lost my mind.

But it tells me everything that is important.

I never once thought about missing my show. Only Alec.

Emmett sees me through the picture window of Unframed Art and his face falls. I can't blame him. I am the walking dead. It's hard to fight for someone who won't see me. Alec won't return any of my calls or texts. I've been to his apartment and Unframed Art, but Alec refuses to face me in person.

This is my last resort. I've barely eaten and I think my things are packed. Madyson and Jayce have been amazing. They've helped me file paperwork and schedule flights to make sure every detail is correct. I don't want to be banned from the US on a technicality. Although, it might not matter.

If Alec won't speak to me, there's no reason to stay long term.

Madyson said she won't sublease my loft for at least three months. She's certain I'm coming back and her optimism is crushing. Every bit of hope strikes like a dagger.

It can't end this way. I'm heartbroken but furious. I don't understand how he can walk out of my life and let me leave without saying goodbye. Alec's last words are the sword to the other daggers. He said if he was my everything, I would never end our relationship, but he's leaving me.

I'm stalker level, trying not to leave him, but he cut me out of his life as if I were less than a one-night stand. As if I'm some guy he made a mistake with and needs to be avoided at all costs.

I have to leave for the airport in an hour, so this is my last chance. I can't risk leaving the sculpture outside of his apartment. At least here, I can be sure nobody will steal it.

It's heavy in my arms as I open the door.

"I know he's here, but I won't make you lie for him." I place the wooden crate on the floor next to the checkout counter because it's so heavy.

"This is his." I gesture to the crate. "But he won't let me give it to him."

Emmett nods and leans in. "He's in with a client but should be done soon."

"He won't see me." I run a hand through my hair, forgetting I've tied it back, and it pulls out of the band.

"Sorry," Emmett says, meaning it.

"Will you ask him to open it?" I can't believe I have to resort to such extremes. Emmett nods. "If he wants to see me, I'll be in the coffee shop a few doors away. But I leave soon and this is…it's…" My voice breaks and I can't finish the sentence.

Emmett walks around the counter and grips my shoulder. "I'll do what I can. If it makes you feel any better, he's a mess." He looks as if he wants to say more, but there is nothing to say. It might be the last time we speak. He half hugs me and says, "Have a safe trip."

"Thanks." I walk out and wish I believed in prayer. It might take a miracle for Alec to change his mind.

I place my order and take a seat at the table by the window with my luggage, Alec's Christmas gifts tucked inside, hoping to be unwrapped—someday—by him. When my coffee gets cold, I order a Danish and set a timer.

I forbid myself to count every single second that he's not here. It's a slow, painful death. The street is busy, so there are lots of people to watch. Everyone is in a hurry. They have places to be, important things to do.

My phone is burning in my pocket, but I refuse to check the time. I can't see the door to Unframed Art from my seat, but if Alec leaves the shop, I'll see him.

My phone alarm sounds, but I can't turn it off. Turning it off is admitting that Alec isn't coming. That he doesn't care that I'm getting on a plane and flying across the ocean. I don't mean enough to him for a proper breakup or goodbye.

I'm just some guy he used to fuck.

The other customers stare, and the woman behind the counter walks toward me.

I turn off the alarm and open my rideshare app.

There's a car three minutes away and another in seven minutes. I choose the seven-minute option. I'm the one hurting myself now. He's not coming and another four minutes won't make a difference.

My leaden limbs trudge to the garbage to toss my almost full coffee and uneaten Danish. My passport is in my pocket, and my boarding pass is on my phone. There is nothing left to do but leave.

I'm surprised by the sun as I exit the café. It should be storming. I should be leaving New York City in a snowstorm with volatile winds, not a pale blue sky with white, fluffy clouds.

The car pulls up and confirms my name. I'm loading my luggage into the back of the SUV when the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

I spin around and see Alec standing behind the door to Unframed Art. My heart leaps as if it can get to him. I raise my hand, but Alec turns away.

The last thing I see is Alec's back, walking away from me. Again.