“You’re trying to sleep with me.”
“To make you forget him.”
“Please . . . don’t.”
He gets out of my bed and puts his hands on his hips. “I was trying to help you.”
I turn my back to him and stare at the wall. “I know.”
He sits on the chair in the corner. “I’m not leaving you alone.”
I nod, grateful that he isn’t leaving but he’s out of my bed. I would have never forgiven myself . . . not that it matters to anyone anyway, I guess.
But I would know.
I wasn’t lying—my body belongs to Elliot, whether he wants it or not.
I sip my coffee in a crowded café on a Sunday morning. I got up early and went to the gym; I have a chocolate muffin in front of me and I’m feeling a little better today. I had a talk with Daniel and I believe him, he was just trying to be of comfort.
And maybe on some level I should have done it, maybe it would have helped me to move on and forget him.
I hear the familiar ding of my phone and my blood runs cold.
Ed.
I ignore it for a moment, and it dings again.
I don’t want to talk to Ed, because I know he’s going to tell me about her.
I’m cutting ties with him too.
I’m sick of all the fucking lies. No more charades, it’s obvious I can’t handle this game.
It dings again and I close my eyes.
Go away.
With a shaky hand I lift my coffee to my mouth. It dings again.
Fuck it.
May as well get this over with . . .
I take out my phone and click on his message.
Hi Pinkie,
Sorry I haven’t been in touch, I’ve been busy.
I’ve missed you.
His sweet words open it all back up, emotion overwhelms me, and the tears I so gallantly told myself that I no longer had, appear once more.
I go to type but everything is blurred so I put my phone down on the table and angrily swipe them away.
No, I have to know.
I type:
How is your artist?
A reply bounces back.
I don’t care.
I frown and write:
Why?
Because, she’s not you.
What?
What are you talking about?
I love you . . . Pinkie . . . or should I say, Kate.
My eyes widen and I sit back in my chair—what the hell is going on here?
Are you going to eat that chocolate muffin, or will I?
I look up and Elliot is sitting at a table across the café; his eyes search mine as he gives me a soft smile.
And something snaps inside of me and I’m furious and I hate him, so I stand and march out of the café and down the street.
“Kate,” he calls as he runs after me. “Kate, come back here.”
I don’t want to hear his lies, I don’t want to be anywhere near him.
I walk quickly across the road to the park, needing to get as far away from him as I possibly can.
“Kate.” I can hear his voice getting closer.