One slow step at a time, I lumbered my way into Greg’s bedroom and dropped his gray suitcoat onto the bed. Only I’d done it mindlessly, too close to the edge, and it slipped off, spilling onto the floor in a heap. I couldn’t find the strength to care about fixing it.
The straps holding the shoes to my ankles were undone, followed by the garters. I peeled the thigh-high stockings down my legs one at a time, all while trying not to think about what had just happened. The swing from guilt, to anger, to hurt was a rollercoaster I’d been locked into, even as I’d begged to get off.
I dressed slowly. Gone was the feeling of being a bombshell or a sex kitten. I was a stupid twenty-year-old girl. A naïve and trusting fool. How long should I wait here in this empty bedroom for Greg to return?
The garter belt and stockings were tossed into the open pink box. I’d left the bra and panties out in the living room, so they were lost to me now. I sat on the edge of the bed, wondering if I sat still enough, I’d turn to unfeeling stone.
I didn’t know and didn’t care to know the details about what Preston had done with someone else. If it was true and it had been one time and a mistake as he’d said, it didn’t matter. I’d done everything to try to hold onto him. Given him everything. Even as his girlfriend, I still wasn’t his top choice.
It was impossible, sitting alone in the dark bedroom, to not feel worthless.
“Cassidy.”
Greg’s deep voice snapped me from my thoughts. I focused my gaze on him as he stood before me, and my heart sank further in my chest. The lines around his eyes were deeper. He combed a hand through his unruly hair and had a hard time meeting my gaze.
I already knew what was about to happen, but I fought against it. I pushed to my feet and crossed my arms over my chest to prevent myself from touching him. If I grabbed him, it’d only be harder to let go.
He said nothing. He shoulders rose and fell with deep breaths, like breathing was difficult for him.
I couldn’t wait another second. “Well?”
“He told me I was going to have to make a choice.” Finally, he dragged his gaze up and connected it to mine. His eyes were full of sadness.
“Him or me,” I whispered.
Preston was forcing his father to choose which relationship to end, and I couldn’t see any outcome where I would win. Even if Greg chose me for some insane reason, I knew I couldn’t allow it. My bottom lip quivered, but I refused to let any other emotion show.
Greg wasn’t going to pick me. No matter how shitty and immature Preston was acting, of course he’d win. Greg would sacrifice me for a chance with his son every time, and in my rational mind, I understood that.
But my heart? That was a different story.
Greg wasn’t fairing much better than I was. “He says he’ll quit school and move back in with his mom if we keep seeing each other.”
The first stage of grief—denial—washed through me. “He’ll get past it.” The words tasted bitter coming out of my mouth. “Like you said, he never cared about me.”
“That’s not what I said.”
I shifted on my bare feet and gave him a hard look. “He didn’t care enough to stay faithful. And not enough to tell me the truth, either.” Stage two—anger—came on strong, and power filled my voice. My eyes burned with hot tears. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried.” His voice lacked his usual confidence. “I warned you that you could do better.”
His answer only made me madder. “Not good enough.”
Greg’s lips pushed into a resigned frown. “Remind me what your reasons were for not telling Preston about the first time we kissed.”
I froze. I’d told him nothing good could come from him knowing. It’d only cause him pain. “That was different,” I said quickly. It was unconvincing, even to me.
“The day I caught him, I hated him a little. I wanted you so badly, but you were with him . . . and then he ran around on you. It was cruel to both of us.”
“And yet, you didn’t say a word.” More than a month after he’d caught Preston, I’d still been his girlfriend, oblivious.
Frustration tightened Greg’s posture. “What was I supposed to say? There was no upside to telling you.”
There wasn’t. He’d applied the same rules to me I’d used for Preston, giving me a taste of my own medicine, and God—I hated it.
“I get why you’re upset, but I was in an impossible situation,” he said. “I still am. I don’t like what he’s done, or this ultimatum he’s given me, but the fact is he’s still my son.”