I started to answer him, but he put his hands up, stopping me.
“Never mind. I don’t care.”
He held my eyes, daring me to ignore what he was saying. There would be no sympathy for me over what Amber did. Nor about the publisher and the lost book deal, the fight with Violet, what was happening with Meredith and Ryan. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want anything. Except for me to go away.
His walkie-talkie started going off, someone on the other end needing his attention. He picked it up. “I’ve got to go,” he said.
“Danny, please, if you would just—if you would let me walk you through how we got here.”
He stopped. “Walk me through how we got here?”
He shook his head, like this was the last conversation he wanted to have. He couldn’t seem to stop himself though.
“I started trying to trace it back these last few nights. What was the last true thing Sunny told me? The last time you felt like you? That’s what I’ve been trying to understand.”
This stopped me. “What do you mean?”
“I thought it wasn’t a big deal. Some producer guy is going to pay you a little money to be the face on a few recipes. I mean, I didn’t give a crap. I never gave a second of thought to whether Lucinda Roy was actually making her recipes.”
“That’s not her name,” I whispered.
“The point is, who cares? It’s just a recipe. It’s just a lifestyle internet show.”
I had a moment of hope. “That’s what I’m trying to say! Everything is getting blown out of proportion.”
“No, you’re not hearing me. It did matter. Because no one becomes terrible all at once. It happens in very small increments. And it paved the way. That little lie. It helped you tell a lot of important lies.”
“That’s not true. I didn’t lie about the important stuff.”
“Really? Maybe we should call Ryan in here and hash all that out.”
Maybe I should have felt guilty. I was guilty. I’d slept with Ryan. It was a mistake. But I’d known it right away. And I’d immediately known something else, which was how much I loved Danny. So, at this moment, I didn’t feel guilty at all. I felt angry. I felt angry because I had chosen Danny. And angry because, at this very moment, he was doing the opposite.
“It must be nice, being so flawless. Can’t you appreciate that I’m a victim here?”
“Right. Amber did this to you. Amber made up where you were from, Amber pretended Meredith’s recipes were hers, Amber slept with . . .”
He trailed off, too angry to say it. His walkie-talkie started going off again, other people trying to get his attention.
“Leave the hard hat by the elevator,” he said.
He started walking away, and I was desperate to stop him—to get him to hear me—which was the last moment you could make someone hear anything. Still, I couldn’t seem to stop pushing him.
“I’m still me, you know.”
“And who is that, exactly?”
He turned back, the question genuine. For a moment, it felt like there was an opening. Like this might be the start of a conversation, not the end. But before I pushed through that small hole, he shook his head.
“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if somewhere deep inside you’d like to believe you’re still the woman I fell in love with. That’s not who you are now.”
“I just—I got a little lost.”
He laughed. “Is that what happened?”
“You hate me that much?”
“No. I don’t hate you.” He met my eyes, almost kindly. “I just don’t know you.”