"It's not. You're with someone. I crossed a line."
"It's… it's fine." My voice shakes. I'm breathless. My heart is pounding. “We're… good."
The drive home stretches forever. Neither of us speaks. The silence crushes me, heavy and suffocating. Every mile feels like losing something I never really had. I hate every second of it.
When we reach the plaza, I can barely look at him.
"Bye, Julian."
"Liza—"
I shut the door before he can finish.
As soon as I step inside my apartment, I race to the washroom and lock myself in. Tears stream down my face—hot, angry, desperate. I cry because I kissed another man. I cry because I'll never see Julian again. I cry because somewhere along the way, I've become someone I don't recognize, someone small and trapped and terrified.
I cry because I know I can never be with him.
Daniel is still out — he plays poker on Thursdays and usually doesn't come home until late, which is perfect tonight. I'm in no state to see him. There'd be too many questions I couldn't deal with.
I eat a strong edible gummy and take a bath. I know I shouldn't get high—Daniel hates it when I do, but I desperately need it tonight. And if he notices my red eyes, I can just confess to the weed—he’ll never know I’ve been crying.
Little white lies.
He doesn't need to know more.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
My shift dragged like cement tied to my ankles.
My feet throb, my back aches, and some drunk idiot spilled an entire pitcher of beer on me around nine. I smell like a brewery floor.
All I want is my bed.
When I unlock the apartment door, Daniel stands in the living room. Arms crossed. Face like stone.
"Hey, I'm—"
"Who is he?"
My stomach drops. "What?"
"Don't play stupid." His voice cuts like glass. "Who the fuck is the guy who picked you up at the plaza last night?"
My heart hammers against my ribs like it's trying to escape, and fear floods my veins—cold, electric, suffocating. The air in the apartment suddenly feels too thick to breathe.
I head to the kitchen, a feeble attempt to get away from him. “Were you following me?”
“Yes,” he screams. “And I’m glad I did.”
“He's... we were at the robbery together. I told you about that. About the meetings. It's no big deal."
"You left out some interesting details."
"I went to two support group meetings with him. That's it." The lie tastes bitter. "It's no big deal. I'm not going anymore."
"Like hell you're not," he screams, his face inches from mine, so close I can feel the heat of his rage and the spray of spittle on my cheek. "No big deal?" He laughs, sharp and cruel. "You think I'm an idiot?"
"Daniel, I don't—"
