The word hits the floor between us.
Unbreathable. Suffocating.
“Yes.”
The word is small but painful,
and I’m already shaking my head, rejecting it.
“But it’s not?—”
“Jesusfuckin’Christ—” He pushes his hands through his hair, gripping the back of his neck with a hurt smile. “You’re jokin’. Allison—please.Please tell me this is a fuckin’ joke.”
“It’s not how you think it is?—”
His jaw tightens.
“No? Then tell me. How long?”
My next breath gets caught in my chest.
“What?”
“How long you fuckin' been with him?”
I stall a beat too long.
“Three years.”
It lands in his eyes first, glassy devastation.
Then the rest of his body.
His gaze falls away from mine,
like my answer was too heavy to hold up,
like this end was always written across his bones.
He hangs his head,
scratches his brow,
pockets his hand,
and scans the lobby.
When he looks at me again,
he clears his throat.
“You safe with him?”
My inhale stops short. “What?”
He gestures to the door.
“That guy ever hurt you?”
