Me: you’re here?
Tate: I need to see you.
Tate: please
I bite my lip and stare at the phone when it starts buzzing with a call from him. I send it to voicemail quickly and text back.
Me: I’ll come down
I shut my eyes and take a couple of deep breaths, trying and failing not to think about my father. It’s not like I don’t think about him each day, but it’s as if my body remembers and grieves his death extra today. By the time I get out of bed, my chest is aching, but I push it aside and focus on what I’m going to say to Tate when I get downstairs. There really isn’t much, but I want to make sure to keep the peace, even if it’s just for Titus’ sake.
I get ready quickly. After the fastest shower I’ve ever had, I throw my hair into a bun and put on sweats and the first t-shirt I find. I find my slides by the door, grab my keys, and head downstairs. As I stare at my reflection in the elevator doors, I realize that despite my best attempt, I still look like I just rolled out of bed. When I step out of the elevator and turn the corner, I spot Tate holding a bouquet of roses and my stomach turns.
I haven’t so much as looked at a picture of him after what he did. Since my brain has been filled with thoughts of Finn, I didn’t think seeing Tate would make me feel anything, even disgust, but here I am, feeling. He’s wearing khakis and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, his blond hair perfectly slicked back.That’s one thing about Tate, regardless of what’s happening, he’s always going to look put-together. When he sees me, his blue eyes brighten, and he begins to walk over.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me,” he says, handing me the bouquet, which I take and smell.
“I figured I’d have to see you sooner or later.”
He flinches and glances at the sitting area. “Can we sit and talk?”
“As long as you don’t apologize.”
His face falls. “But…”
I level him with a look. “If you apologize, I’m out.”
“Fine.” He sighs.
If he does, I’m done with the conversation. I may not have been in love with him, but I don’t want to think or talk about the fact that he cheated on me with the one person in the universe I would actually fight. I follow him to the couches and sit across from him with the roses on my lap. I touch the petals and stare at them while I wait for him to speak.
“I know this is going to sound like bullshit, but I was drugged that night,” he says.
My head snaps up. His cheeks are pink, and he looks like he’s holding his breath as I stare at him. I don’t know if it’s because he’s embarrassed or lying, but I can’t imagine he’d make something like this up. Not Tate, who has a superiority complex. Besides, he may be a lot of things, but he knows how personal this topic is for me, so I don’t think he’d lie about it.
“By whom?”
“I don’t know.” He swallows and looks away before looking at me again.
“Do you remember…” I clear my throat and push my shoulders back. “Do you remember kissing her?”
He lowers his head, sighing heavily as he rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.
“So you do remember,” I say, jaw clenching.
“I remember her flirting with me, but that’s it.” He straightens again.
“It wasn’t the only time you cheated on me,” I say quietly as I search his face.
He swallows hard and looks at the floor. “No.”
I fight the wave of discomfort that accompanies his admission. I’m not sure why hearing it feels like such a blow.I knew he’d cheated, didn’t I?When we were together and he’d go to lunch with that paralegal, Amber, I just knew. One thing is having a feeling, or thinking you know something, and another is actually having confirmation.
“If you didn’t want me, why would you stay?” I ask quietly.
“I did want you.” He glances up quickly. “It had nothing to do with that.”
“Then what?”
