I let out a little scoff. "Wow. Well, if 'whatever' is all you have to say about Kayla being at your house and you lying to me about it, then…."
"You want to know why Kayla's car was here?" he asked, looking at me with a passionate kind of anger that gave me pause. "I had to take her to the fucking hospital. I'm sorry that I forgot about your interview, but I was a little preoccupied."
"What?" I asked, sobering, my heart dropping again. "Why did you have to take her to the hospital?"
"Because she was bleeding and she was afraid she was losing the baby."
Later, I would never admit to the rush of relief that I shamefully felt in that brief moment when I wondered if all of the obstacles between us could really be gone just like that.
"Is—is she okay?" I asked, unsure of how to word it.
"Yeah," he said shortly.
"The baby…is okay?"
"Seems to be," he said sharply. "I heard the heartbeat myself."
For some reason, hearing him say that physically hurt.
"Not that you care," he said. "In fact, I'm probably lying to you. I'm probably making all of it up, because I'm probably cheating on you, even though that would make no fucking sense. Isn't that what you usually think?"
If his mission was to make me feel like a complete asshole, he had done a good job. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me.
And I had no idea what to say.
I opened my mouth to speak, but I felt a lump rise in my throat and tears burning behind my eyes.
Instead of crying in front of him, especially when he was so angry at me, I held back the tears and closed my mouth, spinning on my heel and making a quick exit, practically running to my car, jamming the key in the ignition.
As the tears began to well up in my eyes, I hesitated, thinking maybe Derek would come out after me if I waited another second. Maybe he wouldn't want to leave things like that between us, and he would come walking out the front door. I would get out of my car and start walking toward him, and he would meet me halfway. We would hug, I would bury my face in his shoulder, and all would be forgiven.
But he never came.
I sat there for two minutes, and the door never opened.
Derek never came outside.
Nothing was forgiven.
And for some inexplicable reason, as I swallowed the lump in my throat and finally put my car in reverse, I had the feeling that nothing would ever be the same.
Chapter Seventeen-
Derek never called me that night.
I don't know why I expected him to when he had been so angry.
He didn't call the next day, either.
I had definitely expected him to calm down and see that he was the one being an asshole, but apparently my expectations were too high.
The time alone with no contact only caused me to stew in my own feelings, to journal, to reflect, and then –even though for once I didn't really want to—to go back and read my mother's journals.
When had I become addicted to Derek?
When had he become so bad for me?
When had he become Mike?