Our Fault (Culpable Book 3)

I had to go see Sophia. She’d been calling constantly since the night of Lion’s party. She was furious. She knew I was in Los Angeles, but we hadn’t even spent three hours together.

I had to get things straight with her. When I realized how little I cared about having to break the relationship off, it became clear to me that it would never have worked anyway. I would never be the guy she needed. Only Noah could make my whole world turn upside down. Of course she did—just the sound of her breath drove me utterly insane!

It was so strange, having her with me again without us shouting at each other, without me hating her. The past year and a half, I had spent all my energy on being resentful, wasting every ounce of my being on bitterness to hide the part of me that loved her, trying to ignore the terrible urge I had to run to her side and beg her to take me back. I’d needed all the self-control I could muster to leave her, to go, to convince myself that I could rebuild my life with someone else. To lie to myself, in other words. Now all those feelings were on hold. My former hatred seemed meaningless, and my love was crying to get out. A bigger and bigger part of me was dying to be with her, to hold her in my arms and stay that way until the end of time. I was relieved…as though at last, I was myself again. Hating the woman I loved had been the hardest thing I’d ever done. And now something told me to stop fighting, stop swimming against the current. My path was clear. My destiny was Noah.

Sophia was staying at a hotel. I’d told her my apartment was flooded. I’d had to make up something that would buy me time to get everything in order. I parked, preparing myself to face a person whom, despite everything, I didn’t want to harm. She opened the door to her room dressed in a pretty plum-colored dress. I could tell by her face that she knew things weren’t going to go well. I’d told her we needed to talk. That never means anything good.

I went in but kept my jacket on and didn’t give her the usual kiss on the lips. She frowned as she invited me into her suite. I walked straight to the minibar and poured myself a drink. Sophia sat on the sofa and watched me as I tried not to look at her, taking a long slug of whiskey.

“You’re leaving me, right?” she said, breaking the silence.

I looked her in the eye. “I don’t think I was ever really with you, Sophia.”

She shook her head and looked down at the table in front of her. “I thought…I thought we were getting somewhere, Nicholas. What did she say to you? What did she say to make you change your mind? Because a week ago, you were telling me you wanted to live with me.”

Dammit. Yeah, I’d said that. I was tired of feeling so hurt over Noah, tired of waking up alone every night, thinking, asking myself if I’d been wrong to let her go… “I know…and I’m sorry. Shit. I really am. Sophia, I’m not doing this to hurt you, but I can’t keep denying what I feel for Noah. If I’m not with her, I’d rather be with no one. I told you we were just hooking up, and you accepted that, but then things changed, and I’m not saying that was your fault. I got ahead of myself too, because it was—”

“Easy?” she interrupted me.

That stopped me in my tracks. She was right. Being with Sophia had been easy, pleasant; it had looked right from the outside. But there was no passion, no magic, none of that irrational longing to be with her, to possess her, to make her mine… I’d only ever felt that for one woman.

“I’d rather do this now than break your heart later.”

She smiled mirthlessly. “What makes you think you’re not breaking my heart right now?”

She didn’t wait for me to answer. She stood, turned around, and walked off to the bedroom. I thought of going after her, saying I was sorry, giving her more reasons why what we had wouldn’t work, but this was Sophia. There was no point in insisting, in telling her what to think. If she did love me, it wasn’t the right way, and one day, she’d figure that out.

I wasn’t the love of her life.

When I returned to my own suite, the scent of Noah’s shampoo flooded my senses. It was dark; there was just one lamp lit in the corner. Noah was lying down with her head propped on a pillow and her hair flowing all over. I felt myself harden just by looking at her… Jesus, she was gorgeous!

I knew perfectly well that I’d be better off leaving, or at least letting the alcohol in my veins fade, but I could only think of one thing. I took off my shirt as I walked to the foot of the bed. My eyes stopped on the curve of her hips, her long legs with a pillow stuffed between them, her pink cheeks. I sat down and observed her. It had been a long time since my soul had known such inner peace. Seeing Noah sleep had always soothed me, and yet I was longing for her to open her eyes…for her to recognize that I really was the center of her world, dammit, and for her to look at me again the way she used to.

I looked at the book lying facedown on her nightstand. I opened it and started reading the page she had marked. My eyes landed on the following paragraph:

Because misery and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will, did it. I have not broken your heart—you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine. So much the worse for me that I am strong. Do I want to live? What kind of living will it be when you—oh, God! would you like to live with your soul in the grave?

I ground my teeth. The next sentence, she had underlined with a pencil:

You left me too: but I won’t upbraid you! I forgive you. Forgive me!

I closed the book and counted to ten.