Page 31 of If He Hadn't Cheated
I open my eyes. I breathe. I feel the shape of the day pressing against the edges of my skin, and for a fleeting moment, there’s no pain. No ache behind my ribs. No fog in my skull. Just quiet.
Then it rushes back in.
The weight of everything I’ve done. Everything I’ve lost. Every man I’ve let inside my body just to feel something. Every line I’ve drawn and crossed and drawn again. Every test I have to take to make sure I’m safe from STIs.
I sit up slowly. The air in the apartment is cold and dry. My throat scratches with thirst.
In the kitchen, I fill a glass with water and drink until my stomach cramps. Then I press my forehead to the refrigerator door and close my eyes.Today feels heavy.
Like something is coming and I’m already tired of it.
I check my phone. Nothing from Knox. He’s been quiet since the night he told me about the job offer. That silence settles deep in my chest like disappointment.
I show up to work early again. The Velvet Room feels different now. The music hits differently. The lights are harsher. The patrons blur in a new way. Before, they were just noise. Now I see the edges. The cracks.
Jazz gives me a once-over when I walk in, like she’s not sure what version of me she’ll get today. I get to work without a word. Slicing fruit. Stocking ice. Folding napkins. It’s mindless. It’s safe.
She finally breaks the silence around five. “You hear from him?”
I don’t ask who because we both know who she is talking about. I shake my head. “No.”
She leans against the counter. “Think he’s gone?”
My stomach sinks at the thought. “Probably.”
“You want him gone?”
I pause, knowing I would never want him gone but I expected this not to last. “It’s easier that way.”
She studies me. “Is easier the goal now?”
I keep cutting lemons until my fingers sting. “I don’t know what the goal is.”
“Then maybe that’s the problem.”
I look up. “What do you want, Jazz?”
“I want you to admit that you care about him.”
I drop the knife. It hits the counter with a clatter that makes both of us flinch. “Why does it matter?”
“Because you need something real. Something that doesn’t break you. That gives you life.”
“I don’t trust things that don’t break me and no one is giving me life.”
She sighs. Then walks away.
By eight, the bar is full. Noise. Light. Heat. Everything blends together. I keep my head down and my hands busy. No time to think. No time to feel.
Until he walks in.
Knox.
He doesn’t come to the bar. He stands near the wall, out of the way, watching.
I keep working. Every time I look up, he’s still there. Still watching. The tension is thick. So thick that finally, I snap. I toss my towel onto the counter and storm out from behind the bar.
I don’t stop walking until I’m outside, breathing cold night air and trying not to fall apart. The door opens behind me.
