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I lifted an eyebrow and waited a little longer.
“I think we need to break up,” she barely whispered, squeezing her eyes shut like she was in pain just saying the words.
Shit, not this again.
I leaned back, wishing I had a matching tumbler filled with alcohol.
I could fucking use it.
“What’s got you going back on this?” I asked her, feeling all my hopes for the future start to crumble around me.
She was already giving up on me.
“I just…I finally realized that this isn’t going to work.”
Well, if that wasn’t the same shit I’d spewed just days ago…
“Why?”
She shook her head, as if not wanting to answer. But no, she’d opened Pandora's box. We were going to finish this shit even if it killed us.
“I…”
She paused, and didn’t continue.
“Let’s start,” I said softly, “with what happened while we were talking. We were texting and all of a sudden, you stopped. What happened right then?”
She bit her lip, staring into the crystal of the tumbler in her hand.
“Owen…I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about it,” she murmured.
I sighed, raking my fingers through my hair as I closed my eyes in frustration.
“Mia, if you can’t talk about it, how are we going to work throu—”
“I love you,” she blurted.
My eyes popped open in shock and met hers immediately.
She looked just as surprised as I did, her mouth dropped open like she couldn’t believe she’d actually said it.
Hell, I couldn’t either.
We just stayed still, staring at each other after the admission.
“I’m sorry,” she started to say, but I just shook my head.
“No, don’t apologize.”
She shook her head, tears blurring in her eyes as she looked away, staring off to the other side of the bathroom.
I just didn’t know what the fuck to say to that.
“Well,” she said eventually, still not looking at me. “I realized that with feeling this…way…I’m dooming myself, I think.”
“Dooming yourself, how?” I finally asked.
She mulled over my question for a minute, turning the glass slowly as light reflected off it.
