Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You
Chapter 158: What’s Wrong?

Chapter 158: What’s Wrong?

Marcus

I stare at the screen, watching those three little dots vanish.

She read it.

Then nothing.

No reply.

I scrub a hand over my jaw and toss my phone onto the counter, the damn thing clattering louder than it needs to.

"Maybe that’s the problem," I muttered to myself when I typed it, and now I’m wondering if it was the final nail in the coffin.

Because I don’t even know what the hell I meant. Not really.

All I know is I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. Not since that night. Not since she slipped out of my hot tub and left me with one broccoli earring.

She wasn’t supposed to get to me.

I didn’t expect to miss her laugh.

This is so stupid.

I lean my elbows on the counter and stare at the earring. I’ve kept it in a tiny dish by the sink, like some pathetic idiot who thinks having a reminder of her is normal.

I pick up the earring. It’s a stupid little trinket. She was right. It’s cheap and not worth keeping. But I can’t find myself throwing it away yet.

I flip the earring over in my fingers, watching the light glint off the glossy green enamel. It’s shaped like broccoli, for god’s sake. What kind of woman wears vegetables on her ears and still manages to look sexy as hell doing it?

Rebecca, that’s who.

My phone rings, jolting me.

I freeze.

My heart kicks like a stallion in my chest.

Rebecca? Maybe she decided she didn’t want to ignore me after all.

I snatch the phone off the counter so fast it nearly slips from my hand.

My eyes fly to the screen.

And then... they narrow.

Call from: Natalie

My breath whooshes out, part disappointment, part dread.

Natalie.

My sister.

We haven’t spoken in God...has it been over a year?

The phone keeps ringing, her name glowing up at me like some ghost that refuses to stay buried.

I hesitate and then swipe to answer.

"...Nat?"

There’s a pause. A breath. Then, her voice.

"Hey, Marcus."

I grip the counter, grounding myself. "Didn’t expect to hear from you."

"Yeah," she says, like it weighs something. "I had to. Dad is dying."

My jaw tightens. I press the earring into my palm until it digs into my skin. "Oh," I say simply.

"Mom told me," she adds quickly. "Stage four cancer."

I say nothing for a while.

"Marcus, are you there?" Her voice sounds distant.

"Yeah. Why are you calling me, Natalie?" I ask.

A beat of silence on the other side before I hear her exhale. "Marcus, I think it’s time we go over there and..."

"NO!" I say louder than I intend to, then quickly lower my voice. "No, I made a promise to myself that I will never show my face to him."

"Marcus..." Natalie’s voice is soft now, almost pleading. "It’s been years. He’s dying. Don’t you think—"

"No," I snap, the word like a hammer in my throat. "He doesn’t get to play the poor old man now. Not after everything he did."

I hear her inhale, slow and shaky. "I’m not saying you have to forgive him. I haven’t. But if you don’t go now, you’ll carry that weight with you forever."

I rub a hand over my face, my skin hot. The earring’s still in my palm, and for some reason, I want to keep holding it.

"I don’t care. And neither should you. Goodbye, Nat," I say.

"Marcus, please..."

I hang up the phone and I stand there for a long time, phone face-down on the counter again like I’m trying to bury it.

I stare down at the broccoli earring still in my hand, and my fingers curled around it so tightly the edges bite into my skin. I press it harder like maybe the pain will push all the memories back into the hole I’d stuffed them in.

I can’t go back there. I won’t.

He doesn’t deserve my forgiveness. Or my presence. Not after what he did to me. To Natalie. To Mom.

The man was a monster in a suit, and just because cancer’s turned him frail doesn’t mean he stopped being a monster.

Still... Natalie’s voice clings to me. Tired. Sad. Scared.

And I hate that I care.

I grab my phone again. I need a fucking release and I need it now.

I scroll through my contacts until I see the name Diana.

She is easy. No expectations. No emotional strings. Just a warm body and the right amount of distraction.

I hit Call before I can second guess it.

She picks up on the second ring, her voice smooth, familiar. "Marcus. Wow. Didn’t expect to hear from you."

"Yeah," I say, rubbing my thumb against the counter. "I was just thinking...you free tonight?"

A pause.

Then a light laugh. "I could be."

She is still talking when my mind drifts—right back to Rebecca.

That stupid broccoli earring is still digging into my palm, and now the ache isn’t just physical. It’s crawling into my chest, setting up camp somewhere behind my ribs.

"Marcus?" Diana’s voice is lighter now. "You still there?"

I close my eyes. What the hell am I doing? This won’t help. She is not who I want.

"Actually," I say, clearing my throat. "Forget it."

There’s a pause. "What?"

"I shouldn’t have called. That was... a mistake."

Another beat of silence.

Then, flatly, "Wow. Okay. So this is how we’re doing it now?"

"I didn’t mean to mess with you, Diana. I’m just... not in the right headspace."

She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. "Right. Sure. Whatever you say."

I don’t reply. I just end the call.

The silence that follows is louder than her voice. It presses in from all sides.

I drop the phone on the counter again and press my forehead to my arm.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

You know what’s wrong, a little voice inside my head tells me. You want Rebecca.

Fucking hell.

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