Chapter 7
Under Zachary’s intense gaze that practically demanded gratitude, I finally picked up those crystal earrings-the ones that had
come two years too late.
For a suspended moment, I simply let them rest in my palm, feeling their cold weight. Then, with deliberate slowness, I turned my wrist and watched them plummet to the tiled floor. The earrings shattered with a satisfying crack, fragments scattering across the coffee shop floor, one particularly sharp piece ricocheting off Zachary’s polished Oxfords.
It was only then I noticed the state of his trousers-the expensive fabric torn in multiple places, angry red bite marks visible through the rips. Cooper had apparently put up more of a fight than I’d realized. I deliberately averted my eyes from the
wounds.
“Tacky gift,” I remarked coolly. “Was there anything else? Or are we done here?”
The coffee cup in Zachary’s hand crumpled abruptly, dark liquid spilling over his fingers. The man who once demanded dry
cleaning after a single drop of coffee on his sleeve now ignored the stains spreading across his crisp white cuffs.
He pressed two fingers to his temple, his jaw muscle twitching-the same sign that he was barely holding back a blowup.
“How much longer,” he said, his voice deceptively even-enough to make my stomach tighten-“are you going to keep this up, Lily?”
He took a step closer, eyes burning.
R
“You send Madison threatening texts demanding she quit, then you stage this public breakup right before her heart surgery?”
He let out a harsh laugh. “I could let it all go-if you’d just tell me what you really want.”
Suddenly, his fingers closed around my wrist, squeezing until I winced.
“Want to get married?” he spat. “Fine. We’ll hit the courthouse first thing tomorrow.”
When I didn’t react, he yanked me forward until we were nose to nose-only to freeze when he saw the complete indifference
in my eyes.
I removed his hand with deliberate care, peeling back each finger as if handling something contaminated.
“Let me make this perfectly clear, Zachary. We are finished. No weddings. No imagined ulterior motives. If we happen to run into each other at alumni events someday, do us both a favor and pretend we’re strangers.”
No dramatic outburst. No convenient tears. Just three venti caramel lattes-extra whipped cream-ordered at the counter while Zachary stood there looking like I’d slapped him.
He caught up with me outside the café, his face ashen under the streetlights. “You were my first love,” he blurted, an ancharacteristic tremor in his voice.
I used, tilting my head. “And that’s supposed to mean what, exactly?”
“You-” His throat worked, “You told me you’d never felt this way about anyone before. At graduation, you promised we’d stay together through anything. You can’t just-”
“Oh sweetheart.” I laughed. “You didn’t actually believe those rose-colored romance novel lines, did you?”
The memory surfaced unbidden–the morning after our engagement, when I’d arrived early at his office with breakfast, only to hear him soothing a weepy Madison: “Love? Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just giving her enough leash to keep her quiet. After eight years, it’s the least I can do.”
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Back then, his words had shattered something in me. But now, standing on the sidewalk, it was Zachary Montgomery who looked like something inside him had broken-like I’d reached into his chest and ripped out his still-beating heart.
I raised my arm, and a yellow cab pulled over immediately. The door clicked shut behind me with finality.
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