Page 82 of The Likelihood Of You

I called her name. She didn’t hear me.

I called his name again. Nothing.

What else could I do but watch? My eyes refused to budge from the fumbling that was happening right in front of them. My feet weren’t even going to attempt to walk me out of there. I was just going to stand there, silently sobbing, watching my fiancé fuck my sister.

The numbness I felt now was like welcoming a high school bully back into my life. I didn’t want it there. I hadn’t done anything to deserve its vulgar attention, but it was going to beat me up and call me foul names whether I liked it or not.

I opened the door further, my body beyond eager to see Jacob and whisper a thousand sorry’s to him for getting so worked up over something, deep down, I knew was never possible.

I was going to shake off my coat, toe off my shoes and search his apartment from top to bottom until I found him. And when I did, I hoped he’d embrace me like he usually did when I saw him, open hisarms wide hug me in the way he knew I loved. One hand on the small of my back, the other cradling my head into his chest, while resting his head atop of mine.

We’d end up laughing about our squabble later on, probably whilst we baked, and end the night by reading in front of the fireplace I adored so much, leaning my head on the man I adored even more.

Although, the girl that’s stuck to his face may have just gotten in the way of those plans.

“Florence, let me explain.”

His voice dragged me out of my trance and back into his apartment, where I still stood in the doorway with the Pin’s bag in my hand. I thought bringing him back a slice of pie would soften him up.

The tear that fell onto my hand made me realise I’d started crying. I was so senseless that I couldn’t tell my face had scrunched up slightly, tears were streaming out of me, and my legs were about to give way.

“Florence.” He walked over to me, his steps quickening with each one he took. Then his hands were on my arms before they slid up my body and cupped my cheeks.

I couldn’t feel anything. Nothing physical, anyway. I couldn’t really feel his hands on my face, but I felt the way they were trembling. I did feel the sheer panic that coated his voice. I felt that he was on the verge of tears. I felt that he knew exactly what I was feeling.

My eyes absently wandered up his face, noting how his nose was a little scrunched up and his eyebrows were pulled together.

“Baby, look at me. Flo, please look at me.” He rushed out. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. My eyes were dancing overeverything but his.

They followed the trail of tears now rushing down his face. They hung on the soaked patches of his t-shirt made by those tears. Then they had to betray me, as they hovered up to his shoulder, where I got a perfect view of Darcie. I didn’t have the strength to question what she was doing here, nor did I even have to question that it was her. The fact she was grinning like a she-devil was all I could focus on.

She stood there, her arms loosely wrapped around her tiny waist, one leg bevelled, meaning she could stick her arse out to the left slightly. She was so casual. She didn’t have the body language of a woman who knew she’d just fucked up; instead, she had the stance of an athlete who’d just crushed every event at the Olympics and was walking away with every gold medal in the joint.

She was proud.

She looked so fucking proud of herself. Almost as if she’d planned for this exact sequence of events to happen. I have no idea what her actual plan was, but just from the overly smug expression on her face, I could tell it all went according to plan. It was too perfect. Whatever this was, it was exactly what she wanted. She knew how Jacob would react; she’d known him, and his reaction was an expected factor for her. She probably expected me to do just this: stand in the corner and cry as I watched Jacob try and pick up the pieces.

I’ll hand it to her; she was right about that one.

But no matter how certain you are that you know where the play is going, and what words will trigger the curtain call, you should always expect a plot twist.

I’d suddenly regained all the energy that the picture of them kissing had drained from me. I wasn’t going to stand around like I did the last time this happened. I wouldn’t be a helpless little lamb like she’danticipated. No one was going to screw me over like that without getting what they deserved.

Not this time.

I moved Jacob out of the way. How? I didn't know. It was like the goddess of revenge herself had possessed me, taken over the shell of my body and was marching me down that hallway to give me the helping hand she knew I needed.

There were suddenly a million things I wanted to say to the girl in front of me: how low she was, how I hoped she’d never regain the platform she didn’t ever deserve, how deluded she was to think that she had the power to stand in the way of me and Jacob.

But, in the end, there was nothing I could have said that compared to a slap in the face.

My hand stung with the initial contact of my palm against her perfectly airbrushed cheek, but I got over it pretty quickly, once I saw how she’d doubled over and heard the gasp that left her.

I’d never slapped anyone before, so it was easy for the guilt to creep in and question whether what I’d done was unreasonable. I pushed those feelings aside, though. Did I think that she second-guessed herself when she leapt on Jacob? Of course she didn’t.

“Next time, maybe think twice about leaving someone in exchange for a fucking brand deal.”

I turned around, not wanting to see the girl who was now kneeling on the floor clutching her cheek for another second. As I did, my eyes locked with Jacobs for the first time. My natural reaction was to smile, because that’s what I did every time I got to see him. I had to stop myself this time, and it pained me so much to hold it back. He stilllooked broken; his mouth was downturned slightly, and his eyebrows were still pulled together.

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