Mona Confesses
The walk home from the restaurant is exactly what I need to cool down. The more I think about the conversation, the angrier I get.
By the time I’m halfway to the apartment, I’m furious. Fuming. How can someone who claims to want a future with me be so wrapped up in himself? He never once asked me what I really wanted out of life.
I never really knew Ken. I knew the version he wanted me to see. The version I probably would have kept seeing with only small cracks showing if I’d just chosen him from the very beginning. By then, it might’ve been too late to really leave with a clean break like now.
I can only imagine the shock that would have come after we got married.
“Honey, it’s time to quit your job now.”
“Honey, there’s not enough starch in my clothes when you launder them. Do it again.”
Puke.
I’m just thankful I didn’t make a hasty decision that would ruin my life. Sure, there are girls out there who want what he offers, but not me. That’s not my desire. I don’t want to be kept.
When I let myself into the apartment, I stop in the hallway and just watch. Decker sits on the floor playing tug-of-war with Rhys. This tatted bad boy who used to have women traipsing in and out of his bed now sits cross-legged on the carpet, grinning at a puppy he bought because I mentioned I wanted one when we were still kids.
“Hey,” he says, tugging on the rope. “Didn’t hear you come in. How was your date?”
His voice holds genuine curiosity—no jealousy, no edge. I open my mouth to tell him I’ve made my decision when my phone lights up with Mona’s name.
“Need to get that?”
“She’s been dodging my calls for days,” I say, silencing it. “I can dodge hers for five minutes.”
“You sure? You two are normally glued together. Haven’t seen or heard from her lately. Are you fighting?”
He really does pay attention. How did I miss all of this? It was under my nose this entire time.
Right now, I just want to talk to Decker. I need to see if what I want lines up with what he’s ready for.
“I’m sure,” I say.
The phone rings again. And again. And again.
“She’s persistent,” Decker says with an arched brow.
And that smirk. God, I love that smirk.
Then someone pounds on the door, and I glance at him. He just shrugs. “I didn’t order anything.”
Praying it’s not Ken, I check the peephole.
Mona.
Her face is blotchy, streaked with tears. I yank open the door, immediately concerned. Something terrible must’ve happened, and I feel guilty for ignoring her calls.
“What’s wrong? What happened? Did someone die?”
“I’m sorry, Holly!”
She barrels inside, and my mind scrambles to connect what she could possibly be apologizing for. Especially to this level of drama.
“Avoiding me hardly warrants puffy eyes, Mona.”
Hiccup. “Not that.”
