Until the Last Breath

“That’s two questions.” He laughed.

I frowned, stepping forward and shoving him back against the cushion of the couch. “I don’t give a shit how many questions it is, Max! Why does your ex-girlfriend still have a key to your apartment!?”

“I don’t know, Shannon! I guess I never thought to ask for it back, damn!”

“That should’ve been the first thing you asked for, Max! As soon as you break up with someone, you ask for your shit back!”

“Well, I forgot about it until just now. Why are you acting like this?”

I gave him an obvious look, throwing my hands in the air with exasperation. “Because your ex has way more access to your place than I do! She could walk in here at any given moment and have her way with you! Women like her—I see through them. She’s sneaky and it’s clear she still wants you.”

He sighed and groaned and that really made me angry. He was drunk, yes, but right now he was being a complete asshole.

“You know what?” I shook my head, huffing a laugh as I turned around and picked up my satchel. “I’m out of here. I don’t have time for this.”

Max hopped up, rushing for me and catching me by the elbow before I could make it out the door. “Wait—Shakes, I didn’t even do anything!”

“Don’t call me that,” I seethed, glaring up at him. “Don’t fucking use that name with me right now.”

I snatched my arm out of his hand and turned away.

“Babe,” he called after me as I yanked the door open. I rushed down the hallway, ignoring him. “I’ll get the key back. If that’s what you want, I’ll get it back.”

I spun around, narrowing my eyes at him. “Max, it shouldn’t have even come down to what I want. I come here every fucking night and I have to knock on the door. She comes by and can just waltz right into your place and treat it like her own. How is that fair to me when I’m supposed to be your girlfriend now?”

He stared down at me, speechless. Max wasn’t always great at explaining or defending himself. I think he’d grown accustomed to not giving a fuck and shrugging everything off in his previous relationships, but I wasn’t those girls.

With me, it was different and he knew it. I was glad that he was willing to change for me, but he just wasn’t quite there yet. It was his birthday and I felt horrible for ruining it, but I had too much pride and too much respect for myself to stay.

I blew out a sigh and then stood on my toes, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Maybe you’ll get where I’m coming from when you’re sober. Until then, enjoy yourself, Max. Have a good night.” I walked away, catching myself before I could make it to the stairs. “Oh, and happy birthday.”

Still confused, he stood in the middle of the hallway, calling after me, begging me to come back. A good girlfriend would’ve tried to work it out the same night, but I wasn’t a good girlfriend. In fact, I am ashamed to admit I was a horrible one.

I can admit that back then, I wasn’t always the greatest partner to have. I figured since he was my boyfriend, that he had to do whatever it took to make me happy again. It was his job to make me happy.

Happy girl, happy world, right?

I was Max’s longest relationship. We’d been at it for five months and there were hardly any dull moments.

He loved that—that feeling of being comfortable with someone. Happy with them. Adoring every aspect of them just as they do the same to you.

But the problem was he was still learning, and I was already ahead. He had a lot of catching up to do and I didn’t know if I had the patience for it.

After all I’d been through, being patient for something that I wanted to happen never worked out. When I wanted or expected something I wanted or expected it in that exact moment.

Not months or years later.

Not tomorrow.

Not within the next hour.

Right fucking now.

I didn’t hear from Max the rest of the night, and it kind of pissed me off. No calls or voicemails. No apology texts. Nothing. I figured he either drank himself into oblivion while eating cake and passed out or just passed out period.

I went to work the following night, agitated and on edge. I was still upset because I hadn’t heard from him. He had a shift behind the bar with me and I wasn’t looking forward to it because at least he’d be sober and aware while working.

I got there first. He showed up minutes later, stepping behind the counter and rubbing his hands together, ready to tackle the night.