“Ness.”
“Is that a yes?”
I wanted to lie.
Not because she deserved a lie. Because I wanted, pathetically, to be less bad for one more second.
“Yes.”
She inhaled through her nose, slow and controlled. “Do I know her?”
My stomach rolled.
“No,” I said.
True.
Not true enough.
That made it sit ugly in my mouth.
Vanessa nodded like she’d expected the hit and still hadn’t been able to brace for it. Her eyes shone, but nothing else on her face moved. “How long?”
“It’s complicated.”
Her laugh had teeth this time. “I bet it is.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know you are.” She looked toward the window, blinking fast. “That’s the awful part. You’re sitting there looking like you might crawl out of your own skin because you hurt me, and some stupid part of me still wants to make you feel better. Which makes me want to throw this glass at your head.”
I would have let her.
“I didn’t do this right,” I said.
“No.”
“I didn’t set out to hurt you.”
“I know.”
Her voice cracked on the last word.
Anger would’ve been easier. Anger had edges. You could stand against it. This was softer and heavier, and it settled right where I couldn’t breathe around it.
The server returned wearing the bright, professional expression of a man approaching a table he now regretted accepting.
Vanessa turned her head and gave him a polished smile. The kind she used when a brand wanted too much for too little money. “We need a few more minutes.”
The second he left, the smile was gone.
“I can’t do Aspen,” she said.
“No. You shouldn’t.”
“And I can’t keep being your girlfriend while you decide whether somebody else matters more.”
“You shouldn’t have to do that either.”
