Page 71 of Double Apex

She stalks off to the kitchen, and I follow. Seeing the food sitting in the steam-softened bag gives me a jab of pain, thinking that not even an hour ago I was picturing a relaxed dinner together, likely followed by a shared bath and making love.

Phaedra pours out another splash of scotch, lifts it, then sets it down untasted with a look of disgust—I’m not sure with whom.

“You may not be used to hearing this, but just being your girlfriend wouldn’t be enough for me. I’m an engineer, not a driver’s bargain-bin arm candy. And Emerald is the ‘family home’ I grew up in. Itismy family. I need you to understand that.”

I tend to approach problems like a race. I excel at making instantaneous adjustments to respond to changes in the situation, finding the weak spot in someone’s defense and pressing my advantage. But in this moment, something occurs to me:

With Phaedra, using this strategy feels dishonest.

I was about to say to her,We can spend time apart while you’re in the States but are still committed to the relationship. We will just be more discreet in the future.

Instead, the next words to leave my mouth are guided by the memory of what she told me on Wednesday, when we discussed my sister.

“Phaedra.”

She looks up.

“I won’t tell you how to feel, my love. Instead, I amasking.”

She studies me, gnawing her lower lip. “Really?”

“Yes. Whatever you want, I will comply.”

“Okay. Good.” She holds my gaze soberly. “I want to break up.”

The last time I cried was when one of the children at Vlasia House died of leukemia. The sensation overtakes me now. My eyes burn, my chest feels as if crushed by a boulder.

“That’s not what I’d hoped to hear,” I manage.

“I know.”

“You’re certain?”

She pauses long enough that it gives me hope. Finally she speaks: “When Emerald signed you, Mo told me,That’s the boy who’s gonna haul our butts outta midfield. I’m not going to shit all over his dreams, like,I know it could tank everything the team have worked for the past eight years, but the sex is really great. This is bigger than you and me. Yes, I have feelings for you. But I owe my father everything—”

Her voice cracks. I take a step toward her, but she holds up a palm to warn me off, swiping at her tears impatiently.

“And the only gift I have to offer him,” she continues, “is the security of knowing Emerald would be in good hands if he chooses to have me succeed him. Does that make sense?”

I lean against the sink, holding the edge in a death grip. “Yes.”

She sighs so hard it’s as if she’s collapsing, deflating. I’m not sure if she’s relieved or as brokenhearted as I am. I don’t dare ask.

“I hope it was more than just ‘the sex is great,’” I say, meeting her eyes. “Because it is for me.”

“Absolutely,” she agrees, her voice a rasp. “And I know it’d be more satisfying to end this with shouting—anger’s easier than sorrow. You had my number in Bahrain on that: anger is my default. But more often in life, things end with a whimper, not a scream.”

I give an anemic smile. “You’re setting me up for a wicked joke about making you scream.”

To my relief, she smiles back, equally wearily.

She picks up a napkin and pinches her nose with it. “We’re not having goodbye sex, Cos. I couldn’t do that and not break down. This is agonizing enough.” She stands and tips a sideways nod toward the stairs. “I’m gonna finish packing. I need to be alone right now.”

She walks out before I can reply, and I watch her slip around the corner. Creaking footfalls go up the stairs.

It’s painful to be this far from her when I’m feeling so much—like a rubber band in my chest, stretched to its limit. But as I admit defeat and allow tears to flood my vision, I am glad to be alone too.

When she comes out of the bedroom, I’m sitting on the top step of the landing.

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