Page 104 of It Must Be Fate

Last week, Rhys had announced that he and Seymour were traveling to New York City for a few days to help recruit a young, very sought after American talent to come play for Arsenal. Using your stars to woo emerging players is pretty commonplace so I believed him without a second thought.

Honestly, even if he’d given me a ludicrous excuse like he was going to New York for a haircut, I would have believed him without question. That’s how much I trusted him.

But he’dlied, and we don’t lie to each other in this family.

Not since RCA.

That’s our golden rule.

“Hayes broke her wrist at school. I tried calling several times but you weren’t answering your cell so I called Seymour to see if he could put you on the phone. Imagine my surprise when I found out he was in London and not New York as you’d made me believe. There was no work trip.” I laugh humorlessly. “He tried his best to cover for you but he was wholly unprepared to lie, poor guy.” Clearing my throat of the tears that are lodged there, I add, “Given this elaborate cover story you concocted and all the lies you’ve told, including since you sat down, I’m assuming you flew somewhere to meet up with another woman.”

It’s my turn to close the distance between us this time. When I lean, my mouth is set in an angry rictus, twisted by anger and betrayal. I turn to humor as my defense mechanism to shield myself from the worst of my emotions as I’ve always done.

“Pro-tip for when you inevitably cheat on your second wife—make sure you let your friend know he’s your alibi before you involve him in your lies. You might actually get away with it next time.”

Rhys holds my gaze after I’m done with my tirade, letting the silence stretch for poisonously long seconds. His eyes are inscrutable, the emotion in them deeply guarded. Where there was anger just moments ago, there’s nothing now.

We sit there with my rage brewing and building between us, and then he abruptly cuts off the eye contact. He may as well have ripped out my heart.

He sighs heavily and his eyes drop to his hands where they rest in his lap.

Like a needle brought to a balloon, my anger explodes into nothingness. It doesn’t erupt out of me, it simply… disappears.

And I wish it would come back because it leaves all the hurt behind, now without the much-needed protection of my fury. Ifeel alone and vulnerable and scared, except this time Rhys isn’t there to jump into the elevator to save me.

He’s the walls closing in on me.

As angry as I was, part of me—that same foolish, irrational part from before—had hoped there was another explanation.

His averted gaze does away with that futile hope as quickly as wiping marker off a blackboard.

There’s me and my hurt left, and nothing else.

“Oh, god… Rhys…”

The brokenness in my voice is evident to the both of us.

I didn’t think he would actually cheat on me.

I really didn’t.

Since we broke up our senior year, he hasn’t lied to me. Not once. I truly didn’t think he’d ever hurt me like this again.

Stupid, stupid, me.

The tears are back and this time there’s no stopping them. They roll down my face, evidence of my heartbreak.

“How long?” I ask. My voice is brittle. Like hand blown glass easily broken by a passing breeze.

I don’t know why I ask.

I don’t care.

I need to know, but I don’t care.I don’t care.

Maybe if I say it enough times, I’ll believe it.

Maybe I can wish it into existence.

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