“Nothing happened,” I lie. “She just went home.”
Silence stretches. Dom’s fingers tap a staccato rhythm against his mug. Holli’s nostrils flare like he’s smelling bullshit. Diego exhales slowly.
“She asked for space. After we nailed her good, she upped and left him. Left us. Took my dog with her,” Em fills in what I can’t. Pokes around in my business and tests the perimeter of how much of his bullshit I’ll tolerate.
“She didn’t want to stay.” The words scrape their way out of my throat.
The waitress returns with water for the table. We all stop talking. She turns away long enough to grab the cup of steaming hot coffee another waitress is bringing over and sets it down in front of Dom. A few more weird seconds pass until she walks away.
Diego leans forward, elbows crowding Dom, who surprisingly doesn’t seem to mind, and says, “Didn’t want to stay, or she couldn’t?”
“Same thing,” I mutter, gulping down all my water and wanting more.
“No, it’s not,” Holli counters, exchanging looks with Dom. As if they’re thinking the same thing but don’t want to tell us. “Not even close.”
Em shifts beside me, his knee bumping mine.
“She’s just scared.” His voice isn’t loud. It’s calm. Weirdly clear, and we all stop to stare at him. “You know it. I know it, and she knows it.”
Not willing to look anyone in the eye. I stare at a chunk missing from the top of the table.
“Doesn’t change what she asked for. Space. We gave it. End of story.”
“Was it the sharing?” I can feel Diego’s eyes on me, studying and judging me. “Maybe she wasn’t okay with that?”
Unwilling to share the details of Em and me having shared her twice already is none of their business.
“Doesn’t matter now. She told me what she wanted, and I’m giving it to her.”
Even if it makes me sick to my stomach.
“So, you’re just going to what? Wait? Hope she wanders back like a stray cat?” Holli’s too blunt with his questions.
Channeling Darko Dommy, and I don’t like it. Flashes of Sofia over the last five weeks assault me. Angry, sad, annoyed, happy, orgasmic, and blissed out. It’s painful and sad, carving a deeper ache into my chest.
“I’m not chasing her,” I say, more to myself than them. “Last time I chased someone who didn’t want me like that, it blew up in my face. I’m not . . . I’m not doing that again.”
Cecilia’s ghost flickers in the back of my mind. Her pretty, empty words that never matched her actions. The way she made me feel like I was always too much and not enough at the same time. That whatever I did mattered only in the moment, but was gone the minute she got mad, frustrated, or irritated with me. In hindsight, it’s so damn clear she never loved me. Em even said as much, but who listens to him for relationship advice? Yeah, no one.
“That’s different, bro, and you know it.” Em defends me to myself. “You know that chick was trash. Hot trash, but still trash. She got what she deserved in the end.”
My jaw tightens. Not really. She got it all, and I got nothing. But they don’t get it. Not all of it. They didn’t watch me get played like that. Didn’t see my face when I got my heart broken by some girl who thought I was just a walking credit card with abs.
“You don’t understand, Em. I already tried to fix everything. Tried to convince her not to go. Tried to be every answer she needed these last five weeks, but it obviously wasn’t good enough. If it were, she wouldn’t have left. So, no. I’m not trying again. I’m going to give in to what she wants. You have to, also. No blowing up her phone because you want some stupid shit that Ryan, I, or you can do. And for the love of your damn dick, don’t beg her to come back and suck it. You’ll just push her further away.”
No one says shit for a minute.
Then the food arrives, and everything shuts down. Good. We eat in mostly silence. It’s perfect timing to get everyone off my case and out of my business. It bothers me that Em isn’t as concerned as I am. Or at least showing that he’s affected. But he’s not, and it kind of pisses me off.
Dom demolishes his burger in measured bites. Diego takes his time, chewing like he’s tasting every flavor. Holli preps his pancakes like a five-year-old, drowning them in butter and syrup. Em dips a fry into every sauce available. Makes a mess. Drops crumbs everywhere. Noise and motion and life at full volume.
I shove fries in my mouth, swallow, and don’t taste a thing.
“So basically, you’re just going to pussy out because someone hurt your feelings once, is that right?” It’s Dom who speaks first and nails my ass to the wall. His dark gaze burns into me across the table. The fry in my hand falls back to my plate.
“It’s not just once. And I’m not being a pussy if I let her go.” I go on the defensive, wanting to lash out at him, waiting for him to call me nothing short of a fucking idiot. “You of all people should know with your woman. This shit I’ve heard?—”
That glare intensifies, pinning me to the booth. I tense up. Wondering if he’ll try to round on me with the table in between us, the same way he’s gone after Em when he’s blabbering nonsense.
