He grinned. “Still live with your parents? I’m not going to judge you. It happens.”
“No, but I do have a roommate.”
“Oh?” he asked. “A roommate from hell?”
“No, not that either.” If he just stopped guessing, I could tell him. “I actually live with my daughter.”
His face turned paler than the vanilla ice cream on his cone.
“She’s thirteen.”
Now, his eyes widened. “Uh, why didn’t you tell me you had a daughter?”
“I just feel like that’s all people focus on before getting to know me—”
“So, you lie?” he snapped. “You’ve fucking wasted my time for three weeks. I could have been with somebody else. I knew you were too good to be true. You got knocked up, and I bet the guy’s in prison, right?”
“No. I just—”
“Fuck this.” He threw his ice cream in the garbage. “You know how many dinners and shit I paid for?”
“I paid for stuff too—”
“I want my money back.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening, that anyone could have this kind of reaction. “And you got sex—”
“You still wasted my time. You can Venmo me. At least two hundred dollars.” He walked off without looking back, leaving me outside my apartment building, and crossing the street just to put as much distance between us as possible.
I looked at the ice cream cone in my hand and watched the melting part drip down the sides. I released a sigh before I threw it in the garbage then took a seat on the stoop that led to the front doors of my building.
I didn’t want to go inside, not when I felt so terrible, not when I was on the verge of tears.
I sniffed before they overflowed and fell down my cheeks. Pathetic, I cried outside on the stoop as people passed on the sidewalk, hitting a new layer of rock bottom with every single passing week.
I didn’t cry because I lost Paul.
I cried because my life had been perfect, so deliriously perfect that I thought it was a dream.
Now, I was back in reality…and I was miserable.
Cleo texted me. Hey, girl. Just wanted to check in. Haven’t talked to you in a while.
As much as I loved his parents, I wanted nothing to do with them. They were the final reminders that my romance with Derek had been real, that my memories weren’t figments of my imagination, that I’d really loved that man with everything that I had. I’m fine. How are you?
I’m okay. Are you still working for Derek?
Yeah. I was sitting in the corporate office. I’ve been on so many interviews, and I never get anything. It sucks.
Did you contact your old publisher?
Yeah. I burned that bridge when they gave me a job, but I chose to stay with Derek… If I’d known how this relationship was going to end, I would have stayed far away from him. I’d loved him so much that I’d thought giving up that career path would still be worth it…but it wasn’t. Derek was my biggest regret. It wasn’t having a baby before I turned eighteen. It was that heartless and ruthless man. He didn’t just hurt me, but my daughter. He ruined me. I kept telling myself I would bounce back from this stronger than ever, but it was so hard to do that. He broke my trust, my faith, my belief that I could ever be with someone again. I was completely demoralized.
I have an idea. I can get you a position here. It’s basically what you’re already doing. And I know Deacon can get you something too, if you aren’t interested in my position.
How were these people so nice when Derek was an asshole? We’d been broken up a while now, and they still kept in touch with me even though we were never getting back together. Maybe they felt bad for me. Maybe they knew their son fucked up, and they were trying to take responsibility for it and clean up his mess.
As much as I wanted their help, I knew I needed to cut them out of my life. It was just making it hard to really let go. Once I got a new job and left Derek, I wouldn’t want anything to do with him ever again. I should just cut ties now. I really appreciate the offer, and you and Deacon are just so amazing. I love you guys. But…I think we should stop being in contact. It’s not that I want to…it’s just too hard. I really need to move on with my life. And talking to you just reminds me of what I had…and it makes it hard to move on.
She didn’t say anything. The dots were gone.
I hoped that wasn’t the last message we would ever have. Maybe I offended her.
The dots returned along with a message. I completely understand, Emerson. Deacon and I need to let go as well. Honestly, I think we’ve continued to hope that if we kept in touch with you, we could keep you around a little longer—long enough for Derek to realize his mistake and wake up. But I don’t think that’s going to happen.