He leaves today.
I check my phone. Ten missed calls. Nine unread messages. I drop it back on the bedside.
I’m such a fool to have let myself get hurt like this again. The only way to have your heart broken this deeply is to feel this deeply in the first place. My heart isn’t just crushed—it’s shattered. Obliterated into pieces so small I’m not sure I’ll find them all.
I was so naive to think it could ever work, that this would end any other way than one of us completely fractured. Only, it’smebleeding.
Look at Anna and Mason. They’ve been married for the better part of eight years. I thought they’d be together forever—Mason was completely besotted with Anna, he worshipped the ground she walked on, and that turned to complete shit.
We don’t get to pick and choose the things that leave us beyond words. We don’t get to select the hand we’re dealt. So, it’s easier to not feel. It’s easier to bury those emotions deep, because ifthisis what I get for loving? Then I don’t want it.
Is any love worth this kind of pain? The kind where it feels like someone’s twisting a knife between my ribs until I can’t breathe?
Twelve hours ago, I would have convinced myself thatyes, it is worth it. But sitting here while my heart cracks open and spills all over my Egyptian cotton leads me to thinkabsolutely not.
Bang, bang, bang.
“I’m coming!” I call out, my voice hoarse from crying. I grab my glasses from the bedside table and shove them on, shuffling to the door. I look every bit as tragic as I feel. My eyes are puffy, and I have mascara smudged halfway down my face. And yet I don’t have the strength to care.
At least I took out my contacts.
I swing the door open to find Anna holding two cups of steaming coffee.
“Thank God. Took your sweet time,” she says, pushing past me. I follow her wordlessly as she strides through my flat and into my bedroom, where she immediately starts rifling through my wardrobe.
I rub my eyes, wincing as my fingers come away black with yesterday’s makeup. “What are you doing?”
“Fixing this.” She tosses a pair of jeans and a cashmere jumper onto my unmade bed.
I frown. “What?”
She huffs, spinning around to face me with her hands on her hips. “You heard me.” She nods toward the clothes she’s pulled out. “Get changed. Now.”
“Where are we going?” I ask, even though I have a feeling I already know. Anna only gets this determined when shewants to prove a point or Costa Coffee has a two-for-one deal on banana bread.
“To stop you from making one of the worst decisions of your life.”
“Anna, I already made the worst decision of my life. Remember? I told you about the time I let those guys use me as a human sushi board and they put wasabi—”
“Jesus Christ, not that!” she says, flapping her hands. “I’m talking about Max.” Her eyes narrow as her gaze finally sweeps over me. “You look absolutely dreadful, by the way.”
I cross my arms defensively, my eyes darting to the digital clock on my dresser. “It’s 6 a.m.”
“Did you sleep at all?” she asks, her voice softening.
I gawk at her. “Anna, do you haveanyidea what happened last night?”
Her eyebrows squish together, confusion clouding her face. “Yes. I spoke to Max. Which is why I need you to get changed and come with me.”
Max didn’t tell her?
“Anna, there’s no point. He’s with Casey,” I say.
She freezes. “What are you talking about? Max isn’t with Casey. The only person Max wants isyou, Gemma.”
I shake my head. “I saw them together. With my own eyes. Her hands were all over him and he was—”
“No,” she interrupts firmly. “He’snotwith her. Last night wasn’t what it looked like.”
