Page 95 of She Was Made for Me

“Violet told me you were leaving first thing.”

I ignore the pain I feel at hearing her name as Rich holds up two cups.

“Got you a coffee.”

“Is it—”

“Decaf, yep. I remember.”

My chest almost caves in with guilt and sorrow. He’s the kind of friend who remembers things like that, who comes to see me off first thing in the morning. I don’t deserve him.

Rich studies me, head tilted. “Are you still feeling unwell?” He hands me my coffee with a concerned smile. I barely have the energy to take it from his hand, let alone smile in return.

“No, I… didn’t sleep well,” I mumble, sipping the hot liquid. Today, of all days, I could use the caffeine, but I know it would only make me feel worse.

“You look like you’ve been hit by a bus.”

I feel it.

Normally I’d laugh at this, say something smart-ass in return, but I don’t have it in me right now. I shift my weight, wanting to change the subject. “How was dinner?”

“Would’ve been good to have you there. Violet wasn’t quite herself.” His brows draw together as he seems to recall the evening. “In fact, she looked downright miserable.”

“She did?” I ask cautiously. The thought of her suffering makes something twist sharply in my ribcage, and I wince. Did she sleep any better than I did? Has she left for the airport yet? Does she feel as empty as I do right now?

“She did, although she wouldn’t say why.” He’s quiet, sipping his coffee as he studies me. “You look pretty miserable yourself, buddy.”

It’s impossible to hide how I feel, so I give a small nod, pretending to check my bags.

“I don’t get it.” Rich gives a puzzled shake of his head. “You were both so happy when we had dinner at the Mexican place. Vi was excited to go away with Sadie for the long weekend, and you’d met some mystery woman you couldn’t wait to escape to Maine with.”

I grimace, rifling through my duffel bag as if I’m looking for something—anything—so I don’t have to meet Rich’s gaze.

“Then you finish up here, and it couldn’t look better. You’ve blown me away with this place.” He chuckles quietly to himself. “But will either of you let yourself enjoy it? No. You’re both leaving as if you can’t get out of town fast enough. Honestly, the way you two are acting, it’s as if…” he trails off slowly and I focus intently on zipping my bag back up, then rummaging through my toolbox. But there’s not much I can pretend to look for in there, and when I hazard a glance at Rich, he’s staring at me, the cogs in his head almost visibly turning. My blood turns to ice in my veins.

Oh shit. Oh fuck. Please, God, don’t let him figure it out.

I straighten up and square my shoulders, as if I have nothing to hide. “Well, I should be heading…” But I can’t finish the sentence with the way Rich’s expression has hardened into stone.

“Is there something I should know?” he asks, his voice cool and steady in a way that sends a shiver of fear through me.

“What are you talking about?” I attempt a light laugh, but it sounds hollow and he just shakes his head, gaze narrowing.

“I’m an idiot.” His mouth hangs open in shock as he pieces everything together, and I seriously contemplate dashing out the door to my truck. “How the hell did I not figure this out before?” His eyes flare with anger. “You didn’t go to Maine with some mystery woman, did you?” Thankfully, this question is rhetorical, because he continues. “And that day, when you both came downstairs, all flushed…”

I press my eyes shut in shame. He’s putting the puzzle together too quickly for me to keep up.

But what did I expect? He’s a fucking excellent attorney. He’s right, he probably should have figured it out sooner. I was just too wrapped up in Violet to think about it.

“She said she had two things to tell me yesterday, but she only told me one.” Rich sets his coffee down, making a visible effort to stay calm as his steely gaze meets mine. “So maybe you can tell me. I’m only going to ask once, and I expect you will be honest with me.”

I swallow, my pulse skyrocketing as I give a shaky nod.

“Was there something going on with you and Violet?”

I can hardly breathe. I don’t want to tell him because this is the whole reason we broke up, but I suspect it’s far too late for that now.

And honestly, I’m so tired of lying to him. I can’t do it anymore.

---