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“You spoke to Weston?” I squeak.
“So that’s his name, huh? Weston,” says Luca. “I didn’t have much of a choice. He knocked over my drink.”
After Weston brought me home from the DMV office, he did say something about catching up with his friends at the bar for a couple beers. Out of all the bars in downtown San Francisco, what are the odds of Luca hitting up the same one?
“I’m sure it was an accident,” I mumble pathetically. I’m so scared of what’s going to come out of Luca’s mouth next. What happened between him and Weston last night?
“No, Gracie. It wasn’t,” Luca says. “He knocked over my drink and then made it perfectly clear that there’s something going on between the two of you. You’re a hypocrite, you know that? You don’t want me to explore other options, yet you’re clearly wasting no time when it comes to doing the same for yourself.”
My jaw slackens and I grip my phone hard with exasperation. I amnotdoing the same thing as Luca. Weston is .?.?. accidental. And maybe Weston isn’t even anything at all.
“I amnotexploring other options, Luca,” I manage to say with a surprising amount of conviction despite how stunned I am. “Youwere everything I wanted, but you walked away and now I’m trying my fucking best to survive without you, okay?”
Luca snorts. “And this is surviving, is it?”
I pull my phone away from my ear and stare at Luca’s name on my screen in disbelief that this is really Luca,myLuca, that I’m talking to. When did he become so callous with me? A month ago, this man would have gone to the ends of the earth for me. I know breakups are ugly, but I honestly believed Luca and I would remain civil. Now it’s like he doesn’t care about me at all, and after seven years together, I deserve so much more respect than what he’s currently giving me.
I press my phone back to my ear, and my anger sears through me, all hot and fierce. “Maybe Ishouldexplore my other options,” I muse, my tone taunting and unfamiliar. It’s so not like me. I would never purposely hurt the people I care about, but right now .?.?. Oh, I am seeing red. “With the way you’re acting this week, Luca, I think it’s highly likely thereissomeone out there who’s better for me than you are.”
“Do whatever you want, Gracie. I honestly don’t care,” he says, and his words are so believable it’s like a punch in the gut. “Just don’t act righteous about it when you’re the one who’s sleeping with someone else already.”
If only Luca was standing in front of me now, he would see all the color drain from my face. For the longest of moments, I even forget how to breathe. “Weston told you?” I whisper.
“So, it’s true?”
“Luca .?.?.”
“No,” he says harshly. “I don’t want to hear it, Gracie. Just pass on the message that next time he tries to screw with me, he won’t like what happens.”
Luca hangs up the call before I can get another word in, but I can’t speak anyway. I am shocked to my core and grappling with my confusion. Is Weston out of his fucking mind? He has been so, so sweet to me that I can’t fathom what could have possibly possessed him to tell myexthat we slept together. And in the middle of a bar! I never wanted Luca to ever find out about that.
Full of nervous energy, I pace my apartment in circles. I’m not an angry person. I’m naturally calm, patient, understanding .?.?. but recently I am seriously being tested. Now I’m furious at Weston too.
I scroll through my contacts until I find his name, and just as I’m about to call him and find out for myself exactly what he was playing at last night, I remember he’s back at work today. He’s on the day shift, and I’m almost positive he said he gets off at seven. He works in this neighborhood, and I know he’s based out of the station on Fillmore Street.
I set down my phone. I’m not going to call Weston.
I’m going to ambush him.
There’s a McDonald’s directly opposite the Northern District Police Station. I sit at a table by the window, eating chicken nuggets and fries and washing them down with a strawberry milkshake while I wait for seven to roll around. So far, my plan to get back on track with eating healthy meals has been going well, but tonight I was in no mood to cook. The poor veggies in my refrigerator are probably rotting away right this second, but sometimes all you need is fast food. Plus, I walked a mile to get here, so I deserve this milkshake.AndI survived my first driving lesson.
When it turns exactly seven o’clock, I head outside into the golden, warm (but, of course, breezy) evening. I pass the front doors of the station and head around the corner to the parking lot at the rear. There are a lot of police cruisers parked up, obviously, but also regular cars. There are trespassing signs, so I don’t enter the lot, however much I’d like to find Weston’s car and camp out next to it. I stand firm on the sidewalk between the back doors and the parking lot, and I wait. I’m not sure which direction he’ll appear from.
Finally, at fifteen minutes past seven, the doors push open and Weston is the officer who emerges from the station. He’s still in his uniform, minus his duty belt, and his jaw is clean-shaven. He only takes one step out the door before he jolts with surprise.
“Gracie?” His expression lights up as a smile spreads across his face. “What are you doing here?”
As he walks toward me, that smile of his falters. My stance is tense and closed-off, my arms folded across my chest. I don’t greet him. I jump straight into what I’ve been waiting hours to ask.
“What exactly did you say to Luca last night at the bar?”
Weston places his hands on his hips and cocks his head to the side, regarding me carefully. I don’t let the uniform intimidate me.
“Last night. The bar. You. Luca,” I say, keeping my voice strong. “I want to knowexactlywhat happened.”
“How long have you been waiting out here?” Weston asks. His features are so relaxed, I swear it’s almost like he finds this amusing. “Did you seriously wait out here for me to get off work just to ask me what happened with Luca?”
“Yes,Weston.” My words are laced with frustration now, and I uncross my arms and march toward him. I point an accusing finger at his chest. “You antagonized him, didn’t you? You spilled a drink on him.”
