Poor, stupid Marley, who fell for every damn lie.
I’m halfway to Sage’s apartment when my phone rings. Nitro’s name flashes on the screen, and I silence it.
It rings again.
And again.
On the fourth call, I turn it off completely.
The car pulls up, I jump out without saying a word, and walk toward Sage’s apartment. Sage opens her door on the second knock, takes one look at my face, and pulls me inside. “Oh, babe,” she says, wrapping her arms around me. “What happened?”
And I tell her everything.
Sage’s apartment is small and cluttered in that comfortable, lived-in way. Vintage band posters cover the walls—Nirvana, The Smiths, Fleetwood Mac. Empty coffee mugs crowd the counter, and there’s a stack of photography magazines on the coffee table that’s taller than the table itself.
I’m curled up on her couch with a throw blanket wrapped around me like armor, a box of tissues on one side and a rapidly emptying bottle of wine on the other.
“So let me get this straight,” Sage says from her spot on the floor, legs crossed, wine glass in hand. “Your biker boyfriend is secretly a billionaire CEO. He owns the company you work for. And he created your job, specifically for you?”
“Yes,” I say miserably into my wine.
“That manipulative son of a—” Sage stops herself, takes a breath. “Okay. Okay. Let’s break this down logically.”
“There’s nothing logical about this.”
“There’s always something logical.” She takes a sip of wine. “First question… do you still love him?”
The question hits me like a sucker punch. “That’s not the point.”
“It’sexactlythe point.” Sage fixes me with that piercing stare she gets when she’s being serious. “Because if you don’t lovehim, then fuck it, walk away, problem solved. But if you do love him, then we need to figure out if this is something you can work through.”
I stare down at my wine glass, watching the deep red liquid swirl. “I don’t know if I can trust him.”
“That’s different from not loving him.”
“Is it?” I look up at her. “How can I love someone I don’t trust?”
Sage is quiet for a moment. “Did he lie about how he feels about you?”
“I don’t know. He says he didn’t, but…”
“Has he ever made you feel unsafe?”
“No.”
“Has he ever hurt you? Before tonight, I mean.”
“No.”
“Has he ever made you feel small or worthless or less than?”
I think about Derek. About the way he’d criticize my clothes, my body, my ideas. The way he’d make me feel as if I should be grateful he was with me at all.
Nitro hasneverdone that.
Nitro makes me feel like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world. Like my ideas matter.Like I matter.
“No,” I whisper.
