And from the look on his face, the wreckage in his voice, I know he loves me too.
I wanted a life with him.
But I burned it to the ground.
Part of me wants to call him, beg him back, and spill all the dirty details of his ex-wife’s plan. But I can’t. Because if I tell him, he’ll fight until the end, and they’ll all lose because of my selfish desire to keep him.
So I curl in on myself on the floor, cry until my ribs ache, and let him hate me.
It’s the only gift I have left to give him.
Chapter 18
The Los Angeles Area Code
Eddie
“You want another round?” the bartender asks.
I nod and shove my empty glass toward the edge of the bar. “Yeah. Why the hell not.”
“What is with you, man?” my friend Mike asks, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “You need to cheer the fuck up.”
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
Total lie, but hopefully, he won’t push it. Bad luck for me, he does.
“Did something happen with that chick you were seeing? What’s her name… Kiki?”
“It’s over,” I reply with a shrug, trying like hell to look unaffected. “We had a good time. That’s all it was.”
Mike takes a slow pull from his beer as he studies my face.
He knows I’m lying. Hell,everyoneknows I’m lying. At least he’s not calling me on it.
“Well, you know,” he says, leaning in to jab me in the ribs with his elbow, “the best way to get over someone is to get under someone new.”
He thumps me hard on the back, and I sputter my beer. “Jesus Christ, man. That shit worked when we were twenty-five.”
“Dude, you’re thirty, not eighty. Go get laid. You’ll feel better.”
The truth is, Mike’s right. Ishouldget laid. I should have fun.
But I don’t want to. I don’t want any other woman but Kiki… even after learning the truth.
I drag a hand over my face, my jaw tightening as I stare down into my beer. I can’t believe I told her I loved her. Can’t fucking believe I said those words out loud. More than once, too.
And for what?
So she could look me dead in the eye and tell me I was filling a void? A goddamn void.
A bitter laugh scrapes up my throat. I choke it down.
I thought it meant something. The way she looked at me, the way she touched me… I thought she felt it, too.
Turns out I was a fucking placeholder.
I take a long swallow of my beer, hoping like hell I can drown Kiki’s memory if I drink enough. It doesn’t work. Nothing does.
