I was fucking miserable and one short step away from crying or breaking something.
No.
Not breaking. The anger had quieted—backed down from rage and gone stale. It didn’t feel better, though. It felt heavy. And I couldn’t ignore the fact that he still hadn’t chosen me. I didn’t even know whether he’d broken up with Luca or not.
I thought I was holding it together, but that illusion shattered the moment I opened the door and saw Charlotte standing on the other side of it. My eyes welled instantly, and her easy smile turned into concern in under a second. She wrapped her arms around my neck, and I let the tears fall quietly against her shoulder, holding on, something in me giving in. Her perfume—warm jasmine—was familiar enough to crack me wide open.
“Hey, E. What’s wrong?”
“I missed you.”
Her arms tightened. “Is that all?”
I shook my head, and she didn’t push. Just held me.
Oliver looked confused and a little worried when we finally stepped apart. I wiped my eyes, tried to keep the conversation light, and after the Langleys left, it was just Charlotte and me on the couch with glasses of red wine and takeout on the way.
“Okay. Done.” She set her phone down, took a sip, and fixed me with thatCharlottelook. “Let’s talk about it.”
I slumped deeper into the couch, practically sinking into the cushions. “Sebastian and I are fighting.”
“I figured. About the boyfriend?”
“That and… a bunch of other stuff.” My gaze flicked to hers, sheepish, fingers picking at a loose thread on the couch cushion. “We kissed.”
Her eyes widened. “What? When?”
“A little while ago.”
“And was it like…” She let the implication hang.
“Cheating, yeah.”
Her expression didn’t just shift—it hardened. The disappointment was clear, turning my stomach sour.
“Ethan…”
“It’s Sebastian,” I cut in quickly, the words coming out defensively before I could make them anything else. “This isn’t like—they weren’t all that serious.”
“Come on, E. Don’t make it smaller than it is.”
“I’m not,” I muttered.
“But you’re acting like it’s not a big deal.” Her voice took on that familiar edge—too tight to be calm. “You don’t get to do that just because it’s Ash.”
Something in me pushed back immediately, instinctive and stubborn. “He’s not just—” I stopped, exhaling sharply, dragging a hand through my hair. “This is different.”
“Is it?” Her brows lifted. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks pretty similar. Someone on the outside, convincing themselves it means more. That it’s justified. That it’s—what—inevitable?”
Heat flared under my skin. “Itisdifferent. You don’t get it.”
“I do get it.” Her voice didn’t rise—it dropped, controlled in a way that made it worse. “And you do too.” A beat. “You knowwhat this does to the person on the other side. You’ve seen it happen.”
The guilt hit hard, but I pushed against it once more, clinging to the only thing that made this make sense in my head. “He was mine first,” I said, quieter now, but no less certain. “Before all of this. Before Luca.”
“Ethan.” Charlotte’s gaze didn’t waver. “That doesn’t give you a free pass to hurt someone else.”
My gaze dropped to my hands. “I’m not trying to hurt anyone.”
