There's no way in hell I'm cross-country road-tripping with CashfuckingAllred.
No. Way.
There's a knock on my bedroom door. I turn the music up on my phone and shove my earbuds into my ears. The knocking, however, is louder and more persistent than the clamorous and chaotic beats.
I toss my earbuds aside and walk over to the door. If Queen Isla of the Delulu Isles is standing on the other side, I will burn this whole place down. She hasn't stopped bugging me about my room since she decided it will soon behernursery.
“WHAT?” I roar as I fling it open.
Blond hair. Blue eyes. The last person I want to see standing in my doorway.
“What do you wantnow?”
“Can I come in?” Cash asks.
I stare up at him like he's grown a second head. “Why?”
“We need to talk,” he says as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “And I owe you an apology.”
An apology? Didn’t know he had it in him.
Reluctantly, I step aside to let him in.
I watch as he walks over to the mirror hanging over my dresser. Pictures of Wilder and me are taped to the edges.
Cash scans all of them before turning to face me.
“You never taped pictures of us to your mirror when we were dating,” he says, hurt, as he gestures over his shoulder with his thumb.
“What do you want?” I ask again.
He runs a hand through his blond hair. “We loved each other once, right?”
“I think so,” I answer. “But recollections may vary.”
“How do you...” He pauses and exhales heavily. “How do you move on?”
“From what?”
“From loving someone to watching them be loved by someone else?” he clarifies.
“I'm going to bereallyhonest with you for a moment,” I tell him. “And I don't want you to make some stupid remark, okay?”
“Okay.”
“For most of our relationship, it didn't feel like you loved me. It felt like you... like you kept me around because you loved how much I loved you.”
“That’s not true, Ingrid.”
He's not getting it. Big surprise there.
“You were more interested in what I gave to you than what you gave to me,” I say as I wrap my arms around myself, wishing Wilder was here. “That's not love.”
“That’s not the way I remember it.” Cash takes a step forward. “I loved you. I loved you more than... well, I suppose that's not important now.”
“You had a funny way of showing it,” I remark.
“I'm sorry,” Cash tries. “I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I didn't mean to. There wasn’t love in my house, Ingrid. Not real love. Everything was control or manipulation, and I didn’t know how to bring that into us without ruining it. So, I kept pushing you away.”
