“Yes,” I say, pulling on my hair. “And to hell if you’re going out with him.”
“I’m not going out with him. We’re catching up because we’re friends and he’s in town. It’s that simple.” She steps forward, and I grab her hand.
When her eyes meet mine, I quietly say, “Don’t do this, Penny. Don’t do this to me.”
Her eyes search mine, and for a second, I think she’s going to stay with me. Then she says, “I’m not doing anythingtoyou, Eli. You need to own your own reaction, here, that’s all.” And then she snaps her hand from mine and walks out of the apartment with Remi at her side.
* * *
Eli:She hasn’t come back yet. It’s been two fucking hours, and she’s not home.
Posey:I don’t know what you want me to say.
Eli:Tell me what the fuck she’s doing.
Posey:Surprisingly, I don’t have a homing device hooked up to her leg.
Eli:Don’t be a fucking dick.
Posey:Well, what the hell am I supposed to say? Am I supposed to feel bad for you? Because I don’t. She told you several times how she felt, and you did nothing. This is on you.
Eli:I know . . . I know it is. But I don’t know how to fix it.
Posey:Seems pretty easy to me. She told you she wants to be your girlfriend. She wants to be loved. The writing is on the wall.
Eli:It’s . . . it’s too much.
Posey:Then I hope seeing her going out with other men is something you get used to because that shit will not stop. You’re attracted to her because she’s fucking gorgeous. And other men will see the same thing. She might be living in your house, but she’s still single, man.
* * *
The front door opens,and I spring up from the sofa where I’ve been pulling on my hair for the last half hour, rocking back and forth, begging and pleading for her to come home.
She shuts the door behind her and locks up. When she turns around, she comes to an abrupt stop when she spots me standing in the living room, with nothing but the light of a side table lamp illuminating the space.
“Eli, you startled me.” She takes her heels off and then sets her purse down on the console table.
I’m a goddamn wreck.
My heart is in my throat.
My limbs feel numb.
And when I go to speak, my throat is so tight from holding back on my emotions.
“Did you . . .” I clear my throat as I’m hit square in the chest with the thought that passes through my mind. “Did you kiss him?”
She turns away. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“Penny,” I say desperately, tugging on my hair. “Please, please just fucking tell me.”
Instead of answering, she heads to our bedroom, where I hear her getting ready for bed.
“Fuck,” I say out loud before picking up a pillow from the couch and throwing it across the room. I plop back down on the couch and dive my hands into my hair.
Nausea roils in my stomach from the thought of her lips on someone else’s. Of another man holding her hand. Hugging her. Thinking they have even a shot at being hers, let alone Remi fucking Gasper.
What did they do? Did they talk about me? About my fucked-up head?
