Page 93 of Pretty Obsessed

“Your box is in the closet.” I gestured at the front hall.

“I said we needed to talk.” Pat liked to get his way. He’d never taken no well.

“Talk then.” I went to the fridge, assaulted by the smell upon opening. It had been mostly cleaned out for the cabin, but it turns out juice will grow mold. Good to know. I grabbed a bottle of water, not trusting anything else in there.

“Were you in Japan?”

“Does it matter?”

“I think it does.”

“Okay.” I sipped the water proud of myself for not spilling everything. Six months ago, I would have. Even if we had been on a break and we’d been on many over the last three years. But I’d been the only one who was honest, and I didn’t owe it to him anymore. I didn’t owe him anything.

“Are you dating a rockstar?” he said it with such indignation, his tone telling me exactly what he thought.

“I’m not allowed to have friends?” I asked, crossing my arms and matching his posture.

“Who goes on tour with a friend for weeks?” He narrowed his eyes.

“Lots of people as I understand it. They have entourages.” I didn’t want to give him an indication of anything, not only for River’s privacy but because it felt like a little bit of magic only River and I shared. I didn’t want anyone else to have a piece of it.

“And you’re one of those people now? A little beneath you, don’t you think, for a NYT Bestselling Author?”

“Why is that, Pat?”

“A groupie?”

“There is a difference between a friendship and following someone around when they don’t even know who you are.”

“Is there?” He dropped his sharp gaze down my body, a look only aBooker Prizewinning writer could give. Dripping with superiority. “It seems like it’s only a kinder word he’s using.”

My hands clenched into fists in my armpits. But I forced my face to remain relaxed. I couldn’t give him answers in reactions. He’d know. We’d dated too long. He could read me. “I’m still waiting for this talk you needed to have.”

“We’re on a break, Emory. What are you doing?”

“We are not on a break.” I forced myself to look into his eyes. “We are broken up. You’ve moved out.”

“It got a little out of hand this time.” He reached out for me, and I pulled away from him. “We both lost our tempers. You know they’ve never meant anything…”

“No, I know you’ve always lied to me about what you did on these so-called breaks. And you know, I was stupid enough to convince myself that maybe it was fair that you fucked other people during them, in my fucking house. But you were cheating, Patrick. We weren’t on a break.”

“It’s not cheating when there aren’t feelings. It’s a physical release. You know they mean nothing to me.” He reached for me again, and I shoved past him.

Was this how River felt about sex? Just a release? It didn’t feel like it. Our connection felt like so much more than I’d ever had with Pat or anyone else.

“Don’t you fucking tell me what’s cheating and what’s not. You knew how I’d feel, which is why you kept the string of students a secret.”

“There won’t be any more, Emory. Do you really want to throw away everything we’ve built together over some dick I’ll never see again?” He followed me to the living room where I sat.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I knew it would be River. My gut told me that even though it was the middle of the night he’d be asking if I got home.

“That’s the difference, Patrick, I thought we had things. Trust. I thought we had these things, not that they needed to be built. I’m not willing to rebuild over a foundation of lies.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket.

River: Are you home yet?

“You have the gall to sit here and tell me we had trust when you wouldn’t even take me to the cabin, but you take some guy you just met? Was it River you had at the cabin?”

“I had work to get done. You don’t like when I work on our time.”

---