His gaze drops.
“Keep your eyes on it, Nate.”
His throat bobs, and his jaw trembles. He nods and sets his eyes on the video in time to see himself pull away, Tessa touching her forehead to his. And finally, with her smile on the screen, I pause it so I can face Nate.
He looks like his own shame caught him off guard. “Robyn?—”
“Don’t start with my name like it’s going to soften anything.” I cross my arms.
“It didn’t mean anything, Robyn. It was a joke. Tessa gets it was wrong. I don’t know why she’d post it.”
“Oh, you don’t know why she’d post it?” I say, almost happy he’s given me an entry point to bring this up. “Oh, joy, well, let’s look at the caption: ‘Finally taking a chance! Can you believe he kissed me back?’” I glance at Nate, he’s red now, angry. I don’t care. “Does that help you understand why she’d post it?”
“The video doesn’t show you how I felt about it. I didn’t want or like her lips on me, and I told her so.”
“You didn’t like her lips on you?” I push my phone toward him, pausing it on a still a couple of frames before the video fades to black, the image frozen on his hand. “Look at you—eyes on her, cheeks flushed. That’s definitely not the look of someone who didn’t like a kiss.”
“I didn’t! I was confused for a second. Nine seconds, apparently; too long, I admit. I own that. But I didn’tlikeit.”
His voice rises and then falters. A flush creeps up his neck. He rakes his fingers through his hair, then drops them. I should feel satisfaction, but something in his eyes—a flash of panic, not denial—stalls me. My chest tightens, stupid hope flaring for half a breath. Maybe we can salvage this. My knuckles whiten against the table, grounding myself.
“Well, then, tell me this, Nate, since you disliked it so much.”
He straightens, ready for whichever challenge I throw at him. My voice is calm, surgical; his breath comes faster, his nostrils widen.
“Nothing’s changed between you and her since that kiss, right? No… let’s say, frequent secret lunches? Maybe breakfast?”
His head jerks up. The smallest hitch in his breath gives him away before the words even reach him. His shoulders stiffen, and he’s not even pale anymore, he’s translucent.
“Or maybe, I don’t know—anything whatsoever that’s been off between you and your actual girlfriend.”
His eyes dart to the floor then back to me.
I push then, because this is what’s going to keep me up at night if I don’t ask. “Because… when was this?” I cross my arms. “Which night that I was working did you kiss someone else?”
He doesn’t meet my eyes, but mumbles, “The night I went to the bar with everyone.”
That was two weeks ago. I have to keep the bile creeping up my throat from showing on my expression. “And you’ve kissed me since? Had sex with me since?”
He sucks his bottom lip inward, raw. All I see are betrayals piling up—his fingers flexing, the tiny flare of his nostrils, the way he blinks too fast when he lies.
“It wasn’t—” He stops. His eyelids twitch, and guilt flashes across his face before he can school it. “It was nothing, Robyn. It just happened?—”
“That’s the problem,” I say, my voice low. “You didn’t eventhink. And then you didn’t tell me and you kept being around her like nothing had happened.”
“Because nothing did! It was a joke, Robyn!”
“Maybe. But the joke changed something. And you didn’t confront what that was or why. And in that choice, you didn’t protect what we’ve built.”
He flinches. Not much—just a slight recoil in his shoulders. His eyes glisten, but I can’t tell if it’s remorse or panic. He takes a step closer, hand half raised like he wants to touch me, but I step back.
For a second, I talked myself into thinking there’d be another way. He looked so wrecked seeing himself with her that I thought maybe… but he still doesn’t even get what’s so wrong about this.
“I thought you knew me better than that,” he says, and the smallest quiver breaks his words.
“Yeah, I thought I did too.”
Neither of us move. The rain pitter-patters against the window, but it’s hard to hear over my pulse pounding in my ears. His mouth opens again, trembling at one corner.
