A shadow prompts me to open them again. Roxystands above me with her hands on her hips, tapping her foot.
She’s wearing combat boots with a little black dress and a biker jacket. I can’t hold her fashion against her currently, given I’m dressed like a homeless person.
“If you hadn’t blackmailed her, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” she spits.
“I didn’t blackmail her.” I close my eyes again. “And there is nowein this.”
“Yeah, right, you did much worse than blackmail, you lying piece of shit. And there is awein this equation, because I feel responsible.”
“Watch your words, Roxy; I’m still your boss.”
“A shitty one.”
I open one eye. “Leave, or I will fire you.”
She snorts, but then her face twists. “As I said, I feel responsible—”
“It was I who used the file to exploit her former fiancé’s secrets and her financial situation. You’re absolved. Now fucking leave me alone.”
“I shouldn’t have researched her.”
Out of nowhere, shocking both of us, I jump up, almost spitting into Roxy’s face. “It doesn’t fucking change anything, does it? She is still gone!”
Roxy’s eyes flare. “And what are you doing about it?”
“Respecting her fucking wishes to leave her alone.”
Roxy cackles. “How is that working for you?”
The spurt of energy vanishes, and I collapse back onto the sofa, hiding my face in my hands.
“You look like shit,” she mutters.
“I feel worse,” I mumble into my hands.
There’s a silence. Not of the gentle kind. The heavy, judgmental kind that Roxy wields like a weapon.
“You think being noble makes you a martyr? Please. You’re not some tragic hero. You’re just a coward.” Her words cut.
I drop my hands and glare up at her. “I lied to her, Roxy. Multiple times. I manipulated her entire life. And when she finally trusted me, I smashed it with both hands.”
“Yeah. You did.” She doesn’t flinch. “And yet somehow, I’m still here. Go figure.”
I scoff. “What, you want a medal? Go ahead and abandon me too. You’d do me a favor.”
“No. For some outlandish reason… and perhaps to absolve myself for my part in this, I want you to man up and fix this.”
I shake my head. “She doesn’t want to be fixed.”
“She doesn’t want to be lied to. There’s a difference.” Roxy crosses her arms and gives me that look—that older-sister-with-a-baseball-bat look—sheperfected in her first week at Merged. “You know what your problem is?”
“Which one?”
“You’re afraid she’ll forgive you. Because then you’ll have to believe you’re worth it.”
The words hit hard. Like a sucker punch straight to the ribs.
“She deserves better,” I say hoarsely. “Someone who doesn’t sabotage her life. Someone who didn’t start this whole thing with a lie.”
