Page 86 of Mommy

Derek doesn’t even look my way.

And neither does the girl he’s talking to.

She’s pretty. Beautiful.

Had I thought I had begun to gain shape? I’m nothing compared to her. The muscles that tone her body work in her favour, giving her curves and dips.

Her hair is blonde, but not like mine. The colour is cleaner, platinum against her tan skin. And it isn’t unruly and wild either, it falls down her back in a perfect silky sheet, all the way down to the curve of her ass.

The way she angles her head at Derek has cold fingers reaching for my chest, squeezing until I feel like I can’t breathe anymore.

They know each other.

You can tell from the way they look at one another.

Something cracks inside of me, the sound echoing in my skull as I just stand there and watch them.

Some small part of me thought— no, some small part of me forgot that what I was living in right now, wasn’t reality.

Even if I get to go home with Derek, we only go to play pretend. Nothing real.

The girl laughs. Swishing her hair back over one shoulder, she winks at Derek before leaving him standing, and walking off. In my direction.

When she passes me, she grants me a wide—and flawless—smile.

And I stand there, attempting to smile back, but feeling like I’ll combust if I try.

She’s past me before I make up my mind, and I’m left picking up the pieces of my heart to carry them over to the counter. The sharp edges cut into my soul, but I still fake a smile for Derek, who leans down to kiss my cheek.

He doesn’t need to know, I saw this. Even if I feel safe with him, I know this is temporary. And I don’t want to break the spell, before I’m ready for things to end.

I’ll keep this to myself, even if it hurts.

I don’t. Need. To tell him.

Chapter forty five

Ivory

We make it home.

I’m biting my tongue while Derek keeps up our game, helping me out of my jacket and kissing me on the cheek before I go upstairs to shower.

At this point, there’s probably an indent in the tip of my tongue from how hard I chew on it just to keep my pain trapped behind my smile.

We’re halfway through dinner, when I feel the damn cracking.

“Did you fuck her?” I ask, because what do I even have to lose? If he did, it doesn’t matter—or at least that’s what I’m telling myself—and if he didn’t, he can just say no. “The blonde girl from the gym?”

Please say no.

I can’t help that thought. I’m not proud of it, but fuck I don’t want to hear him say yes. I want him to laugh it off and shake his head, pulling me in to kiss me and then maybe mock me about being jealous.

He doesn’t answer, instead, he just snorts.

“Of course that’s the part that matters.” He huffs, eyes showing nothing but annoyance. “Isn’t it possible that we are just friends?”

What?