Page 113 of Catching Kyle
“But I love him,” I say, fresh tears falling. “And he’s gone.”
She grabs my hand and holds it. “But you’re right here,” she says. “You’re all that you have.” She squeezes my hand. “So, love that man first.”
* * *
When I make it back to Portland, I’m in a sleepy haze.
Kyle left me. Without saying a word. He told his mom everything, and lucky for her I was eavesdropping, so she didn’t have to be the bearer of bad news.
When I got back to the cabin that night, I tried calling him. Messaging him. But nothing went through. So I laid on that couch we made love on the nightbefore, smelling his sweet skin on the leather, praying for sleep and to never wake up. Each time I glanced out the window and saw all those lanterns on the water, I wanted to throw up. So much for my wish coming true. Once the sun came up, Silas was kind enough to drive me to the airport.
“He’s just figuring out who he is,” Silas said on our drive. “I know how hard it can be when you’re from these parts. He may come around.”
I remember scoffing. “Yeah, whatever.”
Now I lay on my bed, the sun setting through the window, and my chest feels like it’s tearing itself in half.
I scroll through my phone. I could re-download a hookup app and get some shitty sex. But the thought of that just makes me feel worse. Already, I’m craving Kyle’s body—his smell, his touch, his taste.
And I’ll never have it again.
I’m mindlessly opening and closing the same apps, the same way you open and close the fridge, hoping something good will magically materialize.
I scroll through my contacts, looking for someone to talk to. I scroll past Susan’s name and my stomach sinks. I’m not ready to talk to her right now. But once I hit Amani’s name, all my aimless sadness compresses into white hot anger. I press on her contact and call her.
“Hey, Michael,” she says happily.
“You sabotaged us,” I say.
There’s a pause. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean,” I say. “You’ve been seeing someone else. And you’ve been caught.”
I can practically hear her jaw dropping. “Oh no.”
I sit up in the bed, unable to contain the rage in my body. “How could you do this to us? To me?”
“Michael, I’m sorry. Angie—that woman from the bar—she reached out and said she ghosted me because she had life things going on. She wanted to talk, so we met up. I was lonely, Michael. And we were discreet. I didn’t think we’d get caught.”
I groan, my chest tightening. “But you were caught, and you knew what getting caught would cost us. Why did you agree to being Kyle’s beard if you knew you couldn’t do it?”
“Because I also have a love life, and I couldn’t shut it down when a beautiful woman came knocking on my door,” she says. “I agreed to help because I could see how much you and Kyle loved each other, and I knew how much your past with bad guys haunted you. But I have a past that haunts me too. I deserve love and healing as well.”
I breathe hot air out of my nose, my eyes stinging. I don’t know what to say.
“I didn’t foresee this all happening,” she says. “There was no way to predict I’d get lonely or that Angie would reach out. But I was being careful.”
“Clearly not careful enough,” I say. “You could have just waited, Amani. But no. And now Kyle’s broken up with me. His agent discovered the whole ruse. They’re finding him a real girlfriend now.”
Shock fills the space between us like a bad smell fills a room.
“Are you serious?”
“Yep,” I say. “And now Kyle won’t even talk to me. So thanks for ruining this.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice shaky. “I didn’t—”
“You know, I don’t really want to hear what you have to say. I’m done with this conversation.”
