Page 86 of Hoax and Kisses
“I come with a lot of baggage, and by baggage, I mean my job. I barely have time for myself, let alone for a partner. They get tired of it.”
“Did—” He gives a vague swirl of his hand. “All those men—by the way,” he says too casually, “how many are we talking about? Ballpark.”
The tightness in my chest eases a notch. His curiosity regarding how many men I’ve slept with gives me more satisfaction than it should. “Not that many. Less than a hundred.”
“Oh.” He clears his throat. “Okay. Well, that’s cool, that’s cool.”
I can’t contain the laugh that bubbles out of me. “I’ll give you an A for your response, but you’d definitely fail acting class. I was joking. I had one serious relationship, a few situationships.”
“It would have been fine either way,” he says. Yet, the subtle drop in his shoulders tells me otherwise, almost like the thought of me with other men makes him… jealous. Which, again, doesn’t make sense.
“Well, that guy you were serious with,” he adds, “did he know how to get your mind off the job? Did he take care of you the way you needed?”
I have no idea how he does it, but time and again, he hits me right where I didn’t know it would hurt. He’s uncovering all my invisible wounds, one question after another. And I’m juststanding here, clueless how to respond, trying to patch myself up before I bleed out on the floor.
“I mean, he was there, yeah. In some ways.” My nose stings, but I refuse to cry. “It’s my fault too. I missed so many… I wasn’t the best… You know, it’s not—”
He rests his hand on top of mine, and I snap my mouth shut. He’s done this so many times in the past two weeks, and yet this touch feels different. It grounds me.
I fill my lungs with air and exhale. “I don’t want to excuse my behavior by placing the blame on him. I was—am—busy. I did neglect him and our relationship.”
“Sure,” he concedes. “Maybe you could have been more present. But even after a few weeks of knowing you, I can’t imagine a world where you wouldn’t be involved in the life of the person you love.”
He studies me too closely and for too long.
I feel like I’m under a microscope. I’m tempted to make a run for it, but outside, the rain is still coming down hard. Not to mention I’d look like a crazy person.
So instead, I sink deeper in my seat, hoping it’ll somehow make me disappear.
“We weren’t compatible, that’s all,” I finally say. “It’s a poor explanation, but in hindsight, it’s also the truest one.
“Let me guess,” he chuckles half-heartedly. “He was the guy who said you weren’t good at sex?”
Throat clogging, I nod.
Matt huffs out a bitter snarl. “A real winner, this one.”
“I wish that was the worst of what he did.” The whispered words are only meant for me, but, of course, this man listens to everything I say with a keen ear.
Matt’s jaw works, his grip tightening mindlessly around his cup. “Why do I have an inkling of where this is going?”
I want to tell him all of it. Lay it all out—the hurt, the pain, the self-doubt.
Iwantto, but… instead, I freeze.
Where am I supposed to start? What am I supposed to say? I’ve never truly opened up to anyone before. Not about my life, my needs, my dreams. Certainly not aboutthis. No one knows how broken and ashamed I was, except my therapist, who sat through entire sessions while I sobbed and hurled insults at my ex and former best friend. So putting this trauma into words, sharing the story with a man who hasn’t been paid to help me unpack it, borders on impossible. Especially when the scars are still tender.
With a long sigh, I focus on the table in front of me and garner all the strength I have. “Jake and I were together for almost two years.”
“Sorry,” Matt cuts in. “You said Jake? Or Jerk?”
I smile, though I’m not sure he notices, given how tight the rest of my body is. “The last six months of our relationship, he cheated.” I pause, swallowing as the memories of that night flood back in. “With my now ex–best friend.”
Matt lets out a low whistle, sitting back in his chair. “Damn, Zoey. That’s… that’s cold. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s in the past now,” I say with a shrug.
“Doesn’t mean it hurts any less,” he replies. The rasp in his voice carries everything he doesn’t put into words. An understanding that only comes from someone who’s known the same kind of heartbreak.
