Making Up (Shacking Up 4)

“I don’t love her.”

“You must have liked her well enough to put a ring on her finger and stick your dick in her, though.”

“We haven’t been together for months. I don’t want her back.”

“How many months?”

He looks at the floor when he answers. “Almost six.”

My stomach rolls uncomfortably with that horrible truth. “And we’ve been seeing each other for nearly four of those. How awesome for me that I get to be the rebound.”

“You’re not a rebound, Cosy.”

“You were with her for four years, Griffin. I am most definitely the rebound.” I rub my temples, the throb growing exponentially.

“Just let me explain.”

I turn away from him, trying to inject some steel into my spine. I will not break down while he’s here. “Fine. Explain, but when you’re done, you’re going to erase my number from your phone and you’re not going to contact me again, because it doesn’t matter what you tell me, Griffin, I don’t want your toxicity tainting my life anymore.”

“Cosy.” His fingers brush my arm.

I whirl and shove him back. He stumbles, caught off guard. “You do not get to touch me. You lost that right when you lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie.”

“You had a fucking fiancée weeks before we started seeing each other.”

“It was over long before that.”

“Except she’s having your baby, so that’s a bit of a complication, don’t you think, Griffin?” Now that we’re in the living room, I can at least keep some much-needed distance between us.

Nev slings her purse over her shoulder while glaring at Griffin. She gives my hand a squeeze. “I’m going to go for a walk. Call me if you need me to come back and help you get rid of the body.”

“Thanks, Nev.” I hold out my hand. She sighs and fishes the credit card out of her shorts, slapping it into my waiting palm.

“You’re an asshole,” she says to Griffin as she passes him. “I should’ve racked that card up to its limit while I had the chance.” And with that, she storms down the hall and slams the apartment door behind her.

Leaving me alone with the man who’s already torn my heart out. Now he’s going to eviscerate it.Chapter Seventeen: Just ListenGriffin

Cosy stands on the opposite side of the small living room, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyes are red and puffy, a clear indication she’s been crying. I hate Imogen so much for forcing me to come here and have this conversation that likely isn’t going to go anywhere good. How can it?

“Imogen broke off the engagement almost six months ago. As far as I was concerned, we were over. Until today, I had no idea she was pregnant.”

“Is she the one who broke it off because you travel too much for work?”

I look down at my shoes. “Yes.”

“And that’s the only reason?”

“It was the biggest one. She left me an extensive list of my shortcomings.”

“Like a grocery list?”

“More like a manifesto, or a thesis paper.”

“What a . . .” She shakes her head with something like disdain. “How far along is she?”

I raise my head. “Twenty-six weeks.”

She swallows hard. “So it’s yours.”

“We don’t know that for sure.” It’s so lame, but it’s out of my mouth before I can reconsider how I frame my response.

“Really, Griffin?” Her voice rises along with her incredulity. “Pretty sure since you were engaged to her, it’s yours!”

I run my hands through my hair, trying to figure a way out of this that doesn’t include losing the one good thing in my goddamn world. I don’t want Imogen back. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life raising a child with her. Which sounds horribly selfish and dickish, but it’s the truth. I don’t want to be tied to her for the rest of my life, and now I am.

She doesn’t make me happy. I don’t love her, and maybe now, in this moment, I can admit I never truly did. Not the way I should have, anyway. She was stable and predictable, and she fit into my world, but we didn’t fit together. I see it in the way my brothers are with their significant others, the way my parents are with each other. They have that soul-deep love that allows them to weather all the storms. I would’ve weathered them with Imogen if we’d gotten married, but I would never have been truly happy with her.

Cosy, on the other hand, is everything I didn’t know I wanted. Or needed. She’s everything warm and good and perfect in this world. She’s sweet and innocent; she’s knowledge and adventure. And I’m hopelessly, desperately in love with her.

The realization hits me with the force of a semi truck skidding around a corner at seventy miles per hour, almost knocking me on my ass. But it’s Cosy’s next words that do that in the metaphorical sense.