I dress quickly, needing desperately to get the fuck out of the apartment before we tear each other apart even more than we already have. I don’t move fast enough. The insults come quick and with a sharp honesty that hits me harder than I want to admit.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to sleep next to a man who wishes you were someone else every night? And every day you withdraw a little more, and when I ask you about it, you just pretend I’m crazy.”
“Keep justifying your choices, Lydia,” I say snidely and with as much hate as she said Mel’s name earlier.
“Did you fuck her? At least be honest enough to tell me that,” she yells.
I’m hopping on one foot when she delivers that little line. I practically fall over with how quickly I shove my foot into my sock and stand straight. How dare she try to pass the blame. Before I can think about what I’m doing, I’m standing so close to her that the fabric of my sweatpants are almost touching her bare skin. I’m towering over her, leaning my head in close to her face. Very quickly, and with an honesty and directness that I’m going to regret, I tell her every vile fucking thing I’ve kept quiet for the past six months.
“I almost took her in the bathroom the night we met. She was so, so beautiful and witty, like nothing I’d ever seen. I wanted her that night. I figured it was lust, but every time I hear her laugh or see her smile, that intensity comes back and every part of me wants to claim her more than I think is healthy. And I haven’t touched her, but God do I want to.”
“Except for that kiss?” she asks. The sorrow in her voice has taken on a dark tone that puts me even further on edge than I already was.
“Know what? I should have done a lot more than just kissing her. I should have followed my gut and tossed your pathetic ass aside the moment I met her!”
“Stop it,” she snaps.
“No, you wanted to know, so I’m going to tell you.”
My parents would be disappointed as fuck in me right now. They didn’t raise me to be cruel and unforgiving, but they also never really covered reproductive manipulation in their lessons about life. I push the guilt out of my mind and give in to the hate that’s running through my veins and poisoning my heart.
“When I finally take Mel, it won’t be to fuck her. I’ll make love to her, and I’ll do it so goddamn slow and tenderly that she’ll be begging me to stop torturing her, but I won’t because I’ll savor every single second of it. And when she’s ready, one day, I’ll make sure she has my baby. And my ring. And my last name. And every single thing on this planet I can give her. Because that’s what she is to me—she’s everything.”
I pull back and finish dressing and storm out of the apartment. I circle the neighborhood a few times, wandering and feeling a little lost. I’m done with Lydia and her bullshit. I’m done making sure she’s okay and pretending to be fine with our relationship for her sake. I’m fucking done with all of it like I should have been years ago when I first wanted to be done. I’ll call Lydia’s parents and tell them we broke up. Whatever she goes through isn’t on me. Not anymore.
Tell me right now that she doesn’t deserve better.
Hennessey’s words from earlier ring in my head on repeat until I’m driven to head over to the bar I know they’re going to be at. Most of the house drinks at Port of Call because their drinks are cheap and strong and the place is owned by a retired smoke eater. Ernie, the owner, displays his department pride through the place, which makes it fertile ground for picking up badge bunnies and impressing a date. It’s more of a hole-in-the-wall, but women always seem to feel like they’re being included in something when they’re brought to Port of Call.
I survey the scene from outside on the sidewalk in the freezing fucking cold. The wind picks up and chills me right down to my bones. Of course the temperature has to drop tonight of all nights. Tonight the bar is pretty full, with only two empty barstools tucked into the corner. Seated in the center of the lounge area is my girl.
Mel’s curled up in one of the leather arm chairs. Her blonde hair is down and tucked behind her ears. It’s longer than it was the last time I saw her—just one more thing to remind me how distant she’s been. I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out why she’s been pulling away from me. I knew it wasn’t our kiss because she was fine for weeks after that. I thought it might have been that stupid necklace I bought her, but she seemed to like it. She touches it all the time.