Page 144 of Bitter’s Sweet

Of course.

Trixie stops beside it. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

For the first time all day, something that almost resembles a smile touches my mouth.

“What?”

“You people really do everything in coffins.”

“Occupational pride.”

She runs one finger along the edge. “This one at least free of hate symbols?”

I bark out a laugh despite myself.

“Yeah.”

“Progress.”

I look at the coffin, then at her.

This is who I was. This is simple. This is honest.

That is the lie I choose.

Because the truth is worse.

The man Sweet saw was real. The one who asked was real. The one who stopped was real. The one who fixed her lock because he wanted her to be able to shut the world out was real.

I just got scared enough to drag the old version of myself back out and hand him the wheel.

Trixie studies my face one last time. “You don’t want me, Bitter.”

“I know.”

Her eyebrows rise. “At least you’re honest.”

Not about everything, I think.

Not about the part that would matter to her.

“I want uncomplicated.”

“That I can do.”

I should stop.

I don’t.

I step closer.

She meets me halfway.

And when I kiss a woman who tastes nothing like sunshine, I tell myself I am fixing the mistake. I tell myself Sweet will be better off hating me. I tell myself this is who I warned her I was.

I tell myself if she believes the better man was fake, she will stop trusting him long enough for me to stop wanting to become him.

Then I lift the lid the rest of the way.