Page 41 of Never Enough
Triumph laces her words. “Of course. Thank you.” Her gratitude feels like another layer of performance.
Dread pools in my stomach as I watch the scene unfold, feeling sorry for Celeste despite myself. The limo’s opulent interiorshrinks, leaving the air thick with unspoken promises and whispered lies. But I trust Alex; I have to. He’s my anchor in a sea of chaos, the one certainty in a world where everything else feels uncertainty transient.
Then, out of nowhere, she asks, “Remember our trip to the coast?” She chokes in a trembling voice, “We watched the sunrise together, wrapped in that old quilt your grandmother made. You said it was the best moment of your life.
I know she’s trying to reel him back in, but it still stings. I fight the urge to visualize it, but the image of them cuddled up on a hill, just as she described, keeps creeping into my mind incessantly to taunt me.
Was that truly the best moment of his life?
Did he love her then? Does he still?
His pinkie finds mine, hidden from view, and I cling to it, allowing his warmth to seep into my bones. I won’t cry—not here, not now—but the effort it takes to hold back the tears leaves me feeling hollowed out, a shell of the woman who fell in love with Alexandru Whitmore.
The limo’s leather crinkles as we glide through the streets while the city lights cast an ever-changing kaleidoscope. Meanwhile, Celeste lounges next to him with a grace that seems so natural that it makes meenvious.
My phone vibrates again. I sneak a peek at the screen.
Half of my soul *heart emoji*
I’m sorry. This isn’t what I wanted
The words ripple through me. Perfect Alex, trying to keep everyone happy. I type back, my thumbs tapping as quickly as possible to not make it obvious that we’re texting one another with Celeste and Victoria right here.
Me
It’s okay. I trust you. Just be careful.
Seemingly annoyed that he isn’t paying attention to her, Celeste asks, “Alex, do you think your parents will notice how much we’ve missed each other?”
He shifts uncomfortably, a frown creasing his brow. “They’ll be too busy discussing the music program,” he deflects, his voice a measured calm that belies the tension I see in the set of his shoulders.
I watch the play of emotions across his face, the way he struggles to maintain the façade.
Another buzz, another invisible caress from Alex.
Half of my soul *heart emoji*
I hate this. When we get there, let’s finda moment alone.
Me
Yes. Please.
“Alex, sweetie,” Celeste purrs, leaning in again, close enough that her perfume wraps around us like a cloying fog. “You always said you loved my hair down, didn’t you?”
He doesn’t meet her eyes, focusing instead on some distant point outside the window. “It’s nice,” he mutters, his voice devoid of the warmth she’s fishing for. “But please don’t call me sweetie anymore.”
“Sorry, just practicing for Granny’s sake.”
My phone vibrates once more.
Half of my soul *heart emoji*
I promise to make it up to you.
I swallow the lump in my throat and let my fingers dance their reply.
Me