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As the years went by, I started to hate Celine just as much as she hated me. I shifted the blame onto the two of us, and that anger fueled my determination to come back to the city and prove to her that she hadn’t won.

But even still, there was a gaping hole in my chest. I missed having someone to share my life with, missed having a person I could turn to at the end of the night, and I thought that I had traded that chance away—until I met Verity.

I don’t know what I am going to do, but I won’t give up.

I’ll fix this, somehow.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

CULLEN

“How long do you plan to keep this up?”

Hannah crosses her arms, leaning against the tree opposite me. She’s dressed in a sparkly two-piece outfit and three-inch heels.

It’s 9:00 a.m.

On a Friday.

“It’s not illegal for me to sit here.”

“It’s creepy. She doesn’t want to talk to you, and yet every single day you sit on these steps down the street and wait for her. It’s been three weeks.”

“I’m not waiting for her. I know she won’t talk to me. I just...I don’t know. I want to be near her. I want her to know that I’m still thinking about her—that I haven’t given up.”

She walks over and sits next to me, taking my half-drunk iced Americano, popping off the lid, and draining it. This close, there’s a slight cigarette smell coming off her, almost like she spent the night surrounded by it.

I have no idea how she and Verity are friends. They are totally different people, but they’re loyal to each other. I’m surprised Hannah is even giving me the time of day.

“Look, dude. You fucked up. You need to own that and move on.”

“I know I fucked up, and I do own it, but I won’t move on.”

“Why not?”

“Because I love her.”

“Really.” She says it with an air of disbelief. “You love her after, what, four months?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a habit of falling in love that quickly?”

“No.” My voice is sure and steady. “Hannah, I didn’t even think I could fall in love again until I met Verity. Celine broke me, but Verity put me back together.”

That seems to spark her attention. She rests her elbows on the step behind her and leans back, tilting her head toward me.

“If that’s the case, why’d you lie?”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Doesn’t matter if you didn’t mean to. You still did.”

“I know, but my divorce with Celine is messy. It’s not black and white. We’ve been in this fucked-up gray area for ten years.”

She sighs. “You know, my parents are divorced. I was thirteen when they were going through it, and it fucking sucked.” She shakes around the empty coffee cup, letting the ice vibrate against the plastic. “Their divorce dragged on for years, too. I was a pawn being tossed between them, and I hated it.”

“I’m sorry.”