Page 52 of Pieces of Us

I’ve been anaemic. I’ve had low blood pressure. I’ve had vertigo and fainting spells. So I know how it feels to spin out of control and off axis. I never used to feel that with Lincoln, and now it’s all I feel. I just want my world to stop spinning. I don’t want him to toy with me anymore.

‘I don’t even count the virginity thing as my first time—’

I cut him off.

‘How?! She said you did pretty much everything you set up for me. Candles. Music. The whole shebang. Is that, like, your schtick when deflowering virgins?’ I grimace over the fact that he could have done this a number of times to unsuspecting girls.

‘She’s lying. She lit one candle and she turned the music on. I couldn’t have given a fuck.’

‘No. You were too busy trying to fuck the shit out of her to worry about it. As long as your dick got some pussy, who the fuck cares, right?’

No point sugarcoating it.

‘It wasn’t like that.’ He’s straining to explain himself.

‘Oh yeah? Tell me what it was like? How you working on an assignment led you to losing your virginity with her? She was in our group. You and I were best friends. At the very least, as your best friend, your “Hart”, that’s something you should have told me. Did you even feel guilty when you kissed me a few months later, or did you get it on after we kissed? After we became a couple? What about when we had sex for the first time? Oh, sorry, when I had sex for the first time. Did you feel any sort of remorse that you led me on?’ Every thought I have, I blurt out, and he lets me. He sits patiently while I vomit every thought in my head.

I can see the guilt consuming him, but I’m not sure if it’s just the guilt of me finding out.

Struggling to be this close to him, I, with all my might, get up, crossing to the other side of the room and perch myself on his desk, which creaks under me. There’s a single photo frame on his sparse desk. I lift the wooden frame, unsure if this will be the murder weapon I use when I kill him with how enraged I feel. As I turn it in my hands, I’m splintered all over again. Behind the glass is the napkin he drew our future house on. The sentiment behind it is bullshit. He shouldn’t have this on his desk when I mean next to nothing to him. Still, it pacifies me enough to get the last of my thoughts out.

‘Linc.’ I use my affectionate name for him for the first time, knowing I’m about to break both our hearts. ‘Maybe you and I were never meant to be.’ I wobble on the edge, my fingers trembling around the frame as I look down at a home that will never be.

I fight the next words out of my throat. ‘You have something with her that you’ve never had with me. All your firsts are with her. She means more to you than I ever did. Maybe it’s me that has actually come between you all these years.’ It’s a realisation I’ve never had until today.

I’m the other woman in their relationship. I always have been.

‘I won’t live my life looking over my shoulder, wondering if I’m your second choice. If you’d rather be with her. Maybe…maybe your guilt over what happened between us stopped you from truly committing to her.’ I wonder the statement out loud as I place the frame face down on the desk.

My anger has dissipated and all I’m left with is agony. I don’t want to feel this way anymore.

Walking over to him, I place my hand on his heart. It’s beating as fast as a ticking time bomb. His hot breath fans my face as his eyes search mine for a clue as to where this is going.

‘I don’t want to hold onto this leaden hate and sadness anymore. You’re free. We can both be free now.’

Despair blankets both of us as we come to the realisation of just how much we’ve both lost. We not only lost each other, but he lost a baby. I lost myself. I lost time. I lost the fight to live. I lost myself in others’ opinions of me. And most of all, I lost my sanity and strength.

I can’t stand to be here a second longer. While all his skeletons are out of the closet, I still have mine, and each revelation today is only making it worse.

As Lincoln closes his eyes, I take the chance to dodge around him and leave.

The burdens on both our shoulders still linger, but at least half of them are out in the open.

Passing Uncle Jacob on the way out, I stand on my tippy toes to give him a watery smile and kiss on the cheek, and then I wave to Ella, who’s looking as glum as I feel.

Chapter 22

Roads Untraveled

Amity

‘What the ever living fuck?’ Lily repeats over and over.

I’m lying on my bed, holding the laptop up, where Jagger is on the other end. Rome is swinging from left to right on my chair while Lily wiggles on my bed. I’ve just finished relaying the latest episode with Lincoln, thankful that all three of my best friends were available to drop everything and chat.

The dichotomy between my childhood friends and Jagger doesn’t exist. At one point, Lily was star-struck, but years later, we are all just mates.

‘I can’t comprehend any of what happened,’ I murmur, my mood souring by the second.

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