Page 153 of I Dreamt That You Loved Me

I shoved my hand through my hair. “You think I don’t feel the same way? You think it didn’t bother me to see you all dressed up in heels and red lipstick going off to meet someone else when I came over to ask you to dinner? You think it doesn’t bother me that they took out the bathtub and my keys don’t fit in the damn locks? You think I don’t worry that I will never be the man youfell in love with? I’m not him anymore. I’m not the guy you wrote about in the notebook.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but I kept going. “You think I’mokayknowing that you got mugged by some asshole when I wasn’t there to protect you? You think I don’t know that none of this is okay? Trust me. I fucking know.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks and I wanted to make it better, but I had no idea how to do that because, once again, she warded me off and took a step back without letting me comfort her.

“Cleo,” I said softly.

She wiped her nose on the back of her arm and let out a shaky breath. “I’m fine.”

“Stop fucking saying that word,” I said through clenched teeth.

She lowered her gaze to her clasped hands. “I was coming home from a New Year’s Eve party. It was at a club in the hinterlands of Chelsea. My friend Xavi was with his boyfriend and for them, the party was just getting started, but all I wanted to do was go home. When I left the club there were no taxis because it was New Year’s Eve and there are never any taxis available on New Year’s Eve.

“So I started walking, and I kept thinking about New Year’s Eve the year before. You played at the Supper Club and after the show, we went to a bar, and I don’t even know what bar it was, but we were together, and it didn’t matter where we were. Then I started thinking about all the other New Year’s we rang in together and I was wallowing in self-pity.

“I got onto the subway and took it one stop with the other drunks and revellers, and I was just so caught up in my own misery that I didn’t even see the junkie following me out of the subway station to Astor Place. I didn’t want to give up that ring.

“But I did. I ripped it off my finger and threw it in his face and when I got home, I sat in that stupid bathtub and I thought,This is it. This is the end of our story. It seemed so crazy to me that I got robbed in the early hours of New Year’s Day, just one year after you gave me that ring. I just couldn’t get over that.”

I wanted to tell her that I’d get another ring made for her, but I wasn’t sure that was the kind of thing you could replace. It wasn’t about the actual ring anyway. It was all the memories attached to it. All the symbolism it represented.

That ring was irreplaceable.

So I did the only thing I could. I pulled her into my arms and this time she let me. “I’m so fucking sorry that happened to you but I’m glad you gave it to him. I’m glad you’re okay now.” I brushed a lock of hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “It will be bad karma for that asshole. He won’t know a moment’s peace.”

Small consolation, but I had to believe it was true.

She tried to smile and let out another shaky breath. “Can I see the tattoo?”

“Yeah, sure.” I tugged my wet T-shirt over my head and turned my back to her.

She traced the design with her fingertip, branding my skin more than any tattoo ever could.

“I wonder how it ended up in that book?”

“No idea. But it was a great book.”

“You loved it the first time too. I let you borrow my copy because you left yours in a bar and needed to know the ending.” She lowered her arm to her side and took a few steps back as I turned to face her.

“If you want to know anything about me, just ask. You can ask me anything. I’m an open book.”

I’m not sure if I’d ever been an open book, but I knew beyond a doubt that I’d let her in before, and I would do it again in a heartbeat.

All she had to do was ask.

Her eyes met mine. “I shouldn’t have had to ask. You used to tell me everything. But I guess we’re not those people anymore. We’ve grown and changed and evolved. So of course you’re not the same man you used to be. I’m not the same girl either.”

She packed up her things while I retrieved my wet clothes from the floor.

“I don’t want to dwell on the past anymore,” she said. “I just want to live in the moment.”

I nodded slowly. “Okay. I can do that.”

“Should be a piece of cake for you.” She brushed past me and headed for the door.

“Come on,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll let you buy me dinner.”

An olive branch.