Page 46 of Built to Last
Clenching my jaw in an attempt to stop myself from completely losing it, I fire off my next words.
“And last night? This morning? You had me all to yourself, what’s your excuse for not telling me everything this weekend? Is there a reason? Or did you just not want to risk missing out on a good fuck?” My words are harsh but I don’t care, he doesn’t deserve any softness from me. I’ve been more vulnerable with him than anyone else and look where it’s got me. I feel dirty.Used.
“No.” He shakes his head, taking a step towards me, hurt flashing in his eyes when I back away. I can’t stand the thought of him touching me right now. “I can’t believe you’d even think that.”
“What else am I supposed to think? Apparently you’ve had over a week to bring it up. If you really planned to discuss this with me there were plenty of chances before now.”
“I wasgoingto ask you about it tonight.”
“That’s convenient.”
“I’m serious, Rose. You weren’t feeling well and then you were stressed out about your flat and the storm. I knew you were nervous about meeting everyone today so I thought it would be best to wait until afterwards when we got home.”
“Because you knew I’d be upset!” I force myself to stifle the yell, not wanting his family to hear even though that’s probably a lost cause.
“That’s really what you think of me?” Disbelief colours Phillip’s voice as his brows draw down.
“What else am I supposed to think?”
“You’re supposed to trust me, Rose.”
“I did trust you!” I fling my hands up needing an outlet for my frustration. “I told you why I was struggling to paint, about Malcolm, and everything with my parents. I trusted you withallof itand you chose to keep this from me—something that could affect my future, myentire careeras an artist.”
“I was going to tell you, I swear?—”
My voice is bitter and tears burn in my eyes as I reply, “The problem is I’ll never know if that’s true, will I? I trusted you and you’ve been lying to me. How am I supposed to believe you’re being honest now?” Embarrassment over being so easily fooled by his nice-guy act burns through me, heating my cheeks.
Phillip runs a hand through his hair in frustration, leaving the strands sticking up haphazardly. “You’re not letting me explain.” He clenches his jaw in frustration.
“You had a chance to explain. You had days!” I shake my head. “Right now, I don’t really care what else you have to say.”
“Don’t shut me out just because you’re afraid,” he argues, blue eyes bright with anger.
“Excuse me?” I stare at him in disbelief.
Phillip’s next words hit me like a punch to the gut.
“I’m not Malcolm.”
No, he’s worse. It hadn’t taken long for me to realise Malcolm wasn’t a good guy, but I lacked the confidence to do anything about it, afraid all the shitty things he and my parents said about me were true in spite of what my real friends said. When I broke up with him, I promised myself that I wouldn’t let anyone treat me badly and get away with it again. I won’t go back on that now even if it hurts so much more this time. Phillip made me feel safe enough to show him every part of myself, trusting he would never use it against me. Turns out I’m a fool.
My hands shake and my throat is tight as I desperately try to hold back my tears. He doesn’t deserve to see me cry.
“You said I was enough. You told me I was good enough exactly as I am.” My voice is hollow, even to my own ears.
“Youare?—”
“No.” I shake my head. “If you really believed I was worth anything, that what we were building together was worth anything, you wouldn’t have done this.”
“I haven’t done anything!” he yells, truly losing his temper for the first time since we met. “The timing was just never right. I didn’t think waiting until this evening to bring it up would hurt.”
A small, distant part of me can understand his reasoning but it’s drowned out by the storm of anger and hurt raging within me.
“I deserved the truth.” I take a step back, towards the dining room. “I need to go home. I can’t do…” My free hand waves between us. “Whatever this is right now.” Phillip’s face falls but he doesn’t try to stop me.
Taking a shuddering breath in an effort to calm down I open the door to the dining room so I can get my handbag. All conversation stops when I enter. Heart pounding, I edge my way around the dining table in silence, avoiding meeting anyone’s eyes. Once my bag is secured on my shoulder I turn to face Phillip’s mother, shame curling low in my gut.
“Mrs Blackwell, thank you for a lovely meal. I’m sorry for… well, everything. I have to go.” I rush out of the room before she has a chance to reply. Wrestling on my coat, I’m caught off guard when Phillip steps into my path.
