Chapter 32.

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Shortly after Harry had left me in tears out back, I made my way inside and went straight to Madeline. She was sitting in one of the sofas, leaning on Ted and I subtly told her I didn't feel well and needed to go home. She pouted for a bit but when I briefly mentioned my run in with Harry, she understood.

As I breezed past the bar, I got another glimpse of Max where he stood laughing with a blonde guy but couldn't bring myself to care about him right then.

I needed to get the hell out before I ran into Harry again. I wasn't sure I would be able to face him after what he'd just said. I choked down a sob and more stubborn tears that tried to claw their way out from my somewhat calm facade and burst through the entrance doors.

I took a taxi to my house and gasped when I got a glimpse of my face in the mirror above the sink. I looked like a crazy person who'd just escaped from the asylum. My eyes were wild, red and puffy, splotched with dark smudges of mascara all around. Tearing off my dress, I showered quickly in scorching hot water before I cuddled up in bed and buried myself under the thick duvet.

I couldn't live like this anymore, it would slowly kill me. I didn't want to and it pained me to even think of it, but I needed to end things with Harry once and for all. I had to stop hoping and wishing for something that would never happen. The way he kept sending out mixed signals had me emotionally drained.

I closed my eyes and willed myself to go to sleep, the lingering effects from the alcohol helping me doze off quickly.

When I woke up the next morning, a feeling of determination motivated me to get dressed and drive all the way to Harry's house. I couldn't care less if he didn't want to talk with me or if he found me annoying for coming over — all I wanted was to get him out of my life.

The neighbourhood looked just as calm, quiet and tidy as last time and I parked my car by the pavement. I took a deep breath and glanced at the clock before I got out. It was nearly noon and I hoped Harry would be up. Or else, he would have to get up.

As I stepped up on his porch steps, butterflies broke free in my belly. My hand shook as I raised it to knock hard on his front door and I almost threw up in the bushes from nervousness.

A loud bang sounded from the inside, followed by muffled profanities. "Just a minute," Harry's raspy voice echoed and I felt my pulse race.

The door flew open and I found a blinking Harry on the other side. His eyes narrowed as they adjusted to the bright light and spotted me. A matching frown appeared and he pursed his lips.

"You woke me up."

I tried not to get affected by his deep, morning voice, but it was hard. I swallowed a couple of times, tearing my eyes away from his bare chest covered in tattoos.

"I need to talk to you," I said.

He huffed, still frowning. "Alright. Come on in, I'll just put a shirt on."

I tentatively stepped inside and closed the door behind me, as he dragged himself into his bedroom to change. Walking into the living room, I studied the picture of us on the wall.

Losing myself in memories and longing for a time that had passed, I didn't hear him come up behind me. I jumped when I felt his hand on the small of my back, letting out a quiet squeak.

"Sorry," he muttered and sat down on the sofa. "What is it you want to talk about?"

I placed myself in the futon across from him and contemplated how to start. I realised it was better to just cut to the chase, it would only hurt more if we tried to make small talk before all hell broke loose.

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