Page 88 of No One But Us

“You did say I looked ‘edible as fuck’.”

He chuckles. “The guy stole my girlfriend. He deserves it.”

“He didn’t steal me, and I haven’t been your girlfriend for months.”

“It was just a matter of time and you know it, Elle,” he says. He raises a brow. “It’s still a matter of time.”

I might have thought this declaration would affect me, that I could be swayed by the appeal of being with someone who wants me unapologetically. But instead, it just makes me miss James.

It hits me out of nowhere, the need to have him beside me, the wish that it was him here meeting my mother. To lean toward him and breathe him in, that clean mix of pine and sand and soap. To feel the pad of his thumb rubbing against my palm, and know that once the meal concluded, I’d have him all to myself.

Yes, I’m upset about how things have gone for us, but I also have very little time left with him, and I can’t stand to waste a single moment of it if I don’t have to. I introduced Ryan, and I’ve been pleasant to my mother. That’s enough saintliness for one night. I push my plate away, jump to my feet, and make my excuses, leaving Ryan in my mother’s semi-capable and not-at-all-sober hands.

* * *

Me: I’m leaving now. Are you still out?

It takes him a few minutes to reply. I’m nearly back at the apartment before I hear from him.

James: Yeah

Me: Want me to meet you somewhere?

James: Not the best night for it. I’ll be back in a while.

I feel like I’ve been slapped, but once again, why the fuck am I surprised? Of course he doesn’t want me to meet his friends.

I climb in bed, listening for the sound of his key in the door, trying to decide what I’ll say. I lie there for a long time, but I never hear a sound.

* * *

He’s asleep on the couch when I get up. He opens one eye when I walk into the room.

“Why are you out here?” I demand.

“I didn’t want to wake you up.”

It sounds like bullshit to me. “What time did you get in?”

He doesn’t meet my gaze. “I don’t know. Late.”

“Nice spending time with people your own age?” My words are oozing bitterness.

“At least one of those people wasn’t my ex,” he replies.

He sits up and rests his head in his hands. I can’t tell if he’s hung over or just exhausted.

“Look, I don’t want to fight with you, okay? We need to talk, but I’m operating on about two hours of sleep.”

I just stare at him. I’m assuming we need to talk really means this is over.

“Wow. You really think you can use the fact that you didn’t come home last night as a reason for me to take it easy on you?”

“It’s not what you think,” he says.

Our entire conversation sounds like some bad Lifetime movie about cheating spouses, and I don’t plan to listen to another word. I start grabbing stuff and throwing it in my suitcase. I’m half done when Ryan calls.

“I can’t believe you’re up so early.”