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Scraping my fingernails through my hair, I dashed from the room and followed Tara out to the parking lot, tears dangling from my jaw and dampening my neck. She was already in the driver’s seat, her hands curled white around the wheel.
I jumped in and ambushed her with apologies. “Tara, please. I’m so sorry. Please don’t hate me. It just happened—it-it just happened and I couldn’t stop it, and we just?—”
“Don’t.”
Pressing a hand to my chest, I twisted the fabric of my dress between my fingers. “Let me explain.”
She swallowed and started the engine. “You don’t need to explain.”
The car jerked, and we jolted forward, cruising out of the parking lot at double the speed limit. The drive was made in silence. Itchy, crawling silence. Every time an excuse or explanation skipped across my tongue, I swallowed it down, unable to string the words together.
What could I do? How could I fix this?
My mind reeled with vicious thoughts. My limbs trembled as the tears fell, fell, fell, and I swore only a few seconds had passed us by before we were pulling into Whitney’s driveway.
I tried again. “Tara, listen to me?—”
She hauled herself out of the convertible and slammed the door on my words. I watched as she stormed up the walkway, into the house, and I just sat there miserably, broken, completely lost.
When I gathered up the fragments of my strength, I followed her inside, catching sight of Whitney staring up toward the second floor where Tara must have escaped to.
She frowned, glancing at me. “What’s going on?”
I shook my head, a battle cry teasing my throat. “Nothing.” Then I darted up the stairs, two at a time, mumbling behind me, “Everything.”
Tara was sitting on her old bed—now a guest room bed—when I entered, her fingers coiled around the fuchsia-blossomed bedspread, the picture of me sitting beside her. I stared at it, cursed it, wanted to rip it into tiny shreds and toss it to the wind. But it was doomed to blow back in my face, an eternal reminder of my betrayal. “Tara…I’m so sorry.” I cupped a hand around my mouth as my shoulders shook with grief. “Please, forgive me. I never meant to hurt you.”
Her eyes lifted, slowly, sluggishly, her brows gathering between her eyes.
She was silent. Stiff.
I stepped toward her, riddled with desperation. “I wanted to tell you so many times. You have no idea how much it was killing me. I promise, I never wanted to?—”
Tara jumped up from the bed, slicing my words at the quick.
At first I thought she was going to slap me, shove me, slaughter me with her wrath.
But I froze when she raced toward me, pulled me into her arms, and wrapped me up in a firm hug instead.
My whole body went rigid.
Shock infected me.
My ill-timed heartbeats skittered with a shot of hope, with the realization that maybe I’d assumed the worst. Maybe Reed and I hadn’t given her enough credit to understand us, to come to terms with our relationship.
Maybe…
We’re going to be okay.
Drinking in a relieved breath, I closed my eyes and held her tight, sinking into the warmth of her embrace. “God, I’m sorry.” I pressed my temple to her shoulder. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I wanted to. So badly.”
“Shh.” She shushed me, stroking my hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
I smiled, tears puddling in my eyes.
Thank God.
This whole time, we’d been wrong about her. All that pain and heartbreak for nothing.