Always Then and Now

Chapter 39

LIAM

I was absolutely miserable. I'd spent the better part of the last 60 hours in this office, and I was really starting to hate it. I hated these walls, I hated my desk, I hated my chair. Staring at my computer all day was making me go cross-eyed. I was usually relatively calm at work, as work was normally a balm for me. Work was normally my escape from life, but not anymore. Now, nothing could distract me from my feelings for her and the giant mess I'd made, and it showed; I'd snapped at more than a few people over the past few days.

But I couldn't go home. She was at home. It was really sad that I was afraid to step foot inside my own home, but I just couldn't face Hannah. Not yet. I felt so damn guilty for hurting her on Sunday, and I just couldn't stand to see that look of pain in her eyes. When I'd lied to her and told her that I didn't want to be more than friends with her, that I didn't want a relationship with her, and I saw those tears slip from her eyes, it was like a punch to the gut. A punch that I more than deserved. That was when I knew without a doubt how she felt about me. She had real feelings for me, as real as mine were for her.

It should have been the best feeling in the world, to know that the one you loved, loved you in return, but I just felt guilty for what I'd done to her. For turning that love into pain with just a few sharp words. I saw my own words twist the knife inside her and felt that same pain deep inside myself as well. Pain that I myself had caused.

We'd had an incredible friendship; I didn't think I'd ever felt as close to anyone as I did to her, but somewhere along the way, we'd muddied the waters with more romantic feelings. We both had, but I was the one who'd taken it too far last weekend. Before Saturday, we'd both been able to pretend those feelings weren't there, but she'd looked so beautiful at the wedding, and she'd stood with me, right by my side, her hand in mine when I'd faced my father for the first time in more than a decade. We'd more or less spent the evening pretending to be together, and then she'd felt so good, so right, in my arms as we'd danced...the whole night had just gotten away from us, so when she'd looked at me in the car with that wide, vulnerable gaze, I hadn't been able to help myself. I'd wanted her so much, and I'd wanted her to feel how much I wanted, needed, her. My emotions and my desire had gotten the best of me.

I'd possibly ruined the most important relationship I'd ever had in my life.

But I couldn't take it back. I hadn't been lying when I'd told her I couldn't have a relationship. I just couldn't. I couldn't put myself out there again like that. I'd made that mistake with Monica, and I couldn't do it again. I just wished I could've saved Hannah's heart before we'd both gotten in too deep. I could handle being miserable and longing for more as long as she was happy. I could handle any kind of pain as long as she didn't feel any. Knowing that she was unhappy, that she was in pain, and that I was the cause of it, tore me to pieces.

So what had I done? I'd taken the coward's way out. I hid at work, so I wouldn't have to see how much I'd fucked up her life. So I wouldn't have to see her pain. I also knew that if I looked into those big green eyes of hers, there was a good chance that I'd cave and let the love and romance carry me away. It was so tempting, the idea of being with her, of giving my everything to her. But I couldn't risk it. I couldn't risk my heart.

"Liam. Yo, Liam! You haven't heard a word I said, have you?"

I was brought out of my thoughts by Roger, who was standing next to my desk, talking incessantly about the impromptu threesome he'd had the night of the gala, thanks to my rejecting Courtney. I couldn't have cared less on a normal day, but right now, I didn't have the energy to even pretend to listen to all the gory details.

I sighed. "Sorry, man, it's been a rough few days," I said and rubbed my face with both hands. I hadn't slept well since Saturday night—which, in contrast, had probably been the best sleep I'd ever had in recent history—and I hadn't bothered shaving this morning or yesterday morning, so the stubble was getting a little out of hand. Anyone who saw me today had to see that I was not at my usual best. I just couldn't find it in me, at the moment, to care.