I slide out of bed carefully, moving slow so I don’t wake Levy. He shifts a little, brow twitching, but his eyes stay closed. On the surface, everything between us looks calm, like nothing’s wrong.
But underneath, it’s a different story. Jealousy is gnawing at me every hour of the day. The hurt neverreally fades, no matter how much I try to suppress it. She’s damn near ready to pop, and every day closer makes me feel less important.
Like she suddenly has this power over me. She’s giving him something I haven’t—his child—and the thought won’t leave me alone. When the baby shows up, I can’t help thinking he’ll love her in a way he’s never even tried to love me. And that thought alone makes me feel like I’m already losing. Like I’ll never be enough for him—and if I am, it’s only a matter of time before I become too much.
Too emotional, too messy, tooeverything. My heart feels like it’s dangling off a cliff, just waiting to snap. But instead of walking away, I stay put, bracing for the fallout.
Stupid me. I love him, but love doesn’t feel like enough when the people I let closest to me keep treating me like I’m disposable. I hate that I keep ending up here—loving too much, and being the only one who pays for it.
The crazy part is, I never had these problems when my feelings weren’t involved—when I was messing around with different guys and keeping it light. Daniel was a bit much but, that life was easier than whatever this is. If this falls apart, that’s it. I’m done. I’m not trying anymore—no more hoping, no more passing out pieces of myself to someone who’s going to drop them every time.
After a quick shower, I walk back into the bedroom to find him sitting up, tapping on his phone. “Good morning.” I close the door behind me, turning the lock with a soft click.
“Morning, babe.” His eyes stay on the screen. “What time do you work today?”
“Nine.” I let the towel fall onto the bed before sliding into my vanity chair, already reaching for the first step in my skincare routine.
“You got any plans today?” I ask casually, even though I already know the answer. Since he only works throughout theweek laying tile—he’ll either be glued to his phone all day in bed or out with the guys. I don’t remember him saying anything about seeing Blair this weekend, so at least I don’t have to worry about him seeing her.
“Not sure yet. Might hang with the guys. David got a new car—we’re thinking of taking it around the backroads. You know, test the tires a bit.” He smirks, eyes flicking up briefly before dropping back to his phone.
“That sounds like fun,” I say, massaging moisturizer into my skin.
By the time I slip into the clothes I set out the night before, he’s moving across the room toward me. He brushes a quick kiss against my cheek. “I’m gonna shower real quick, babe.”
“Okay,” I mutter, tugging on my socks, but my mind is already racing.
Why is he showering this early if he has nowhere to be? He never wakes up before I go to work on the weekends; let alone hops straight into the shower. Even his friends know not to bother him until later in the day. Is he planning on seeing Blair? She’s not due for another two months, but still—wherever he’s going today feelsdifferent.
Something isn’t adding up.
The moment the water starts running, I act. I’m tired of questioning myself—fuck this.
My heart hammers as I grab his phone, typing in the password with shaking fingers. Dread sits heavy in my chest while I scroll through his apps. Jacob’s betrayal flashes in my head, a feeling I never want to revisit. But I can’t help but feel like it’s happening all over again.
I open his messages, and it’s a lineup of girls—names I’ve never seen, faces that blur together. My chest caves when I open a thread of messages. Pictures of some girl take over the screen, her username already slipping because Idon’t want to hold onto any part of this. His emojis are everywhere—hearts, kissy faces, compliments he used to send me. I keep scrolling even though it hurts. There’s at least three weeks’ worth, every message worst than the last.
The bathroom door creaks, and panic takes over. I clear everything, put his phone back perfectly, I step into my shoes, and try to relax my face even though my heart’s crashing against my ribs.
He steps back into the room, and I’m already clutching my purse like it’s the only thing keeping me together.
How does he even have time for this? He works all week and he’s been helping Blair set things up for the baby almost everyday after work. And even with all that, he still has time to entertain a bunch of whores? My blood boils, my fingers digging into the purse strap until my knuckles ache. Part of me wants to grab that phone and crush it against the wall, let it fall apart in jagged pieces that look a hell of a lot like my heart right now.
The words burn behind my teeth, my jaw trembling from clenching it so hard. But I can’t confront this right now. I have to go to work. I can’t let his mess cost me a job I just got. So, I swallow it down. I smooth my face into something unreadable and head for the door. Right now, keeping my stability matters more than keeping him.
“Leaving already?” he asks, hanging his towel in the closet. My lips press together in a thin line, my nails digging into the leather of my purse to keep from answering the way I want to.
He really doesn’t want me to respond, because right now I’m a ticking time bomb ready to fucking explode. So I don’t answer, I reach for the door, but his hand clamps around my arm and pulls me into the heat of his bare chest.
His lips crash into mine with that urgency always fall for. His hand finds the small of my back, dragging me closer,pretending everything between us is fine. I kiss him back softly, praying he can’t feel the storm raging under my skin.
When he finally breaks the kiss, I paste on a smile, slip from his grip, and hurry for the front door. In the driveway, I sit in my car, the steering wheel blurring through my tears. How is this happening again? I cry, pulling off, headlights glaring against the wet streets, but none of it registers.
All I can think about is how I lay my head down every night beside a man I thought finally cherished what we have. For me to find out he’s still cheating on me—and probably with his ex too—texting other girls. Maybe even seeing them while pretending to be with his stupid friends. My thoughts won’t stop spiraling, asking questions I never thought I’d face again.
But I don’t understand why I keep being so stupid? I’m not even blind—just fucking love drunk. I promised myself I’d watch for the signs. And he tried so hard to show he understood how much he hurt me.
But here I am again, being torn apart by the same person who claims he loves me.
