Because I wasn’t there.
I wasn’t part of any of it.
I cut her off. Cut her out.
And now, she’s like a stranger.
Someone I used to know.
Then she turns.
Like none of this matters.
Like she can just walk away now that she said her piece.
Like she didn’t just drop a bomb in the middle of my life and expect me to stand there and take it.
Something in me snaps.
“Someone tell me what the fuck is going on!” I bark.
“It’s not that hard to follow, Benji,” Esme fires back instantly, spinning to face me again. “You didn’t resign the lease, and when you do that, they tend to kick you the fuck out of military housing. You didn’t call or warn me. You sure as shit didn’t come home. I had no time and nowhere to go.”
The words hit like a punch.
“So I took the old van my uncle left me,” she continues, voice shaking but strong, “and I lived in it. I had no choice.”
Everything inside me just stutters.
“W—what?” The word scrapes out of me.
She lived in a van?
My throat tightens.
My stomach turns.
“There was money,” I say, grasping for something, anything that makes this make sense. “We had money in the joint account?—”
“I didn’t touch any of that. I told you I never wanted your money!” she snaps. “I just wanted you to listen to me. I just wanted you to believe me.”
That lands harder than anything else she’s said.
I flinch.
Actually, flinch.
Like she just fucking hit me.
If she did, I’d probably feel better.
“Look, I survived. It’s fine now. I just want you to sign the papers,” she adds, quieter now, like she’s pulling herself back together piece by piece.
“So you can go on a dating app?” I shoot back, because I don’t know what else to do with this mess inside my chest.
“It—it’s not like that,” she stammers. “It’s an idea for a segment. For my vlog. One of my producers suggested it. Dating with Esme?—”
“Shit, that sounds so cool!” Bit blurts.
