Chapter 363 The Longest Night

Sebastian’s POV

“No. It’s late,” I said, refusing.

“Right. Drive safe.”

“Mind that wound of yours.”

I pulled away from the curb. Five minutes down the road, an unfamiliar ringtone buzzed somewhere in the car. I glanced down. Her phone sat in the cupholder, the screen lit. Aunt calling.

I’d met the woman once. My thumb hovered over the green answer button. Picking up a call for an ex-girlfriend struck me as the kind of thing that only made an already messy situation worse. I let it ring out, ended the call, and swung the car around.

“You know this is how trouble starts,” Ryder muttered at the edge of my mind.

“It’s a phone, not a declaration of war,” I told him, and kept driving.

Back at her building, I took the phone upstairs and rapped on her door. No answer. The door hung slightly ajar, so I nudged it open and called in, low, “Abigail? You here?”

Nothing. I hesitated, then stepped inside and set the phone on the table.

I was turning to leave when she walked in and nearly collided with me.

“Sebastian?” She blinked, startled. “I thought you’d gone.”

I pointed at the phone. “You left it in my car. Your aunt called. Figured it might be urgent, so I brought it back.”

She pressed a hand to her forehead and laughed, soft and rueful. “My head’s been all over the place today. I never used to forget a thing.”

She gestured to the couch. “You’re here now. At least have a drink before you go.”

“It’s fine. Get some rest.”

I moved for the door, but she caught my arm and tugged me down onto the cushions. “Even if you want distance from me, you don’t have to turn to ice.”

She padded to the fridge and poured juice, talking over her shoulder. “I ran out to take the trash down a minute ago. Nearly jumped when I saw a car that looked like yours parked out front.”

She handed me the glass. I drained it in one go. I’d traded punches with five men and spent an hour under hospital lights. My throat was raw.

“Where’s Damien these days?” I asked. “Haven’t crossed paths with him in a while.”

Her eyes darted. “Touring overseas.”

“You still turning him down? He suits you better than I ever did.”

“Love isn’t a checklist of who fits,” she said quietly. “If the feeling’s not there, none of it means anything.”

I nodded and set the glass down. “Then tell him straight. Let him go chase something real. He’s my uncle’s only son. He deserves better than waiting on a maybe.”

“I know. I will.”

I stood. “Take care of yourself. I’m gone.”

I’d made it two steps when her arms locked around me from behind. A sob broke against my spine.

“Sebastian. Can’t you stay? Just tonight.”

I went rigid and peeled her hands off my waist. “I’m a married man now. “

“One night. Give me one night, and I’ll vanish from your life. Me, the memories, all of it.”

She lunged for me again. Something in my skull had started to swim.

“Don’t make me lose what little respect I have left for you.” The words came out slurred. I shook my head, trying to clear it, but the room tilted and smeared.

The glass. The juice.

“Ryder…” I reached for him and found only fog.

“Fight it,” he snarled, distant and fraying. “Sebastian, fight it…”

Abigail’s face swam close. My knees buckled.

I felt her haul me toward the bedroom, felt the mattress give beneath me, felt her lean over me in the dark.

Then everything went black.

I surfaced at eight the next morning, head splitting, mouth like ash. For a moment, I couldn’t piece together where I was. I dragged the blanket off, and when I saw I was naked beneath it, something in my chest detonated.

I tore my pants off the floor and yanked them on, hands shaking. The bathroom door caved under my boot. Steam rolled out. Abigail stood under the shower, and I crossed the room in two strides, grabbing her by the throat and pinning her against the tile.

“What did you do to me last night?” The words came out shredded.

Her face went white under my grip, but she didn’t flinch from the truth. “What we used to do. The thing you liked me doing to you most.”

“Go to hell.”

Ryder howled behind my ribs, every ounce of control gone. My fingers tightened. Her skin went from white to gray, then began to turn purple. The gash on her forehead split against the wall and bled fresh, running down her cheek, her collarbone, and onto the ink below, my name tattooed over her heart years ago.

“I… love… you…” she rasped, forcing the words past my hand.

I looked at my name, now smeared in red across her chest.

And I laughed. Cold and hollow.

I let go. One more minute and I’d have finished it. My hand dropped, and so did she, crumpling to the wet floor at my feet.

“You make me sick,” I said. “Every part of you.”

Four years of us. Three years of her waiting. All of it gone in the space of a single breath. I had never regretted loving anyone the way I regretted loving her.

“Sebastian.” She wept from the floor, broken. “It’s not like we’ve never done this before. Why are you being so cruel…”

I looked down at the woman curled at my feet. She wasn’t the girl from the little pasta shop anymore, the one who’d smiled at me like the whole world was a gift. That girl was dead, or had never existed at all.

“From this day on,” I said, “I never want to see your face again.”

I turned and walked out without another word. I’d thought years might change what people believed, how they felt. I hadn’t expected it to turn into something this far beyond reason.

And the ache lodged in my chest wasn’t for Abigail.

It was for Emilia.

For the fact that I had no idea how I was going to look my wife in the eye.