“I think you need to give her the heads-up she’s not living a Friends episode,” I advised.
“What’s that mean?”
“She thinks you’re on a break.”
His lips thinned, which made his cut cheekbones stand out, and as with everything Knox Chambers, it was a good look.
He unthinned his lips to ask in an even more chilling and dangerous tone, “And Luna, baby, how do you know she thinks we’re on a break?”
I was not going to delight in hearing him again call me baby, something he did a lot when we were together, and a whole lot when he was fucking me.
To get this over with so we could get on to what I wanted to talk about, I said, “Because, when she ambushed me at the gate into the courtyard of the Oasis Saturday morning after you got shot, she warned me to back off because I was confusing you. After I shared my confusion that she was in my space, since I thought you two had split, she shared you two had not split. You were on a break.”
Invisible hellfire broke out in his living room.
But instead of twisting in the flames, I asked, “Should you be standing up?”
“If I have to sit or lie down for another fuckin’ second, I’m gonna kill somebody.”
Totally a man in motion.
Since I was the only one around available to murder, I mumbled, “By all means, stay standing then.”
He walk-hobbled to the open-plan kitchen (a space that was pretty awesome, all black, gray and white and stainless steel, lots of room, or at least lots of room compared to the tiny kitchen in my pad—just to say, the outside of Knox’s place wasn’t much, the inside…he had a decorator’s touch).
He leaned against the counter, yanked his crutch out from under his arm, rested it against the counter too, then pulled his phone out of his back jeans pocket.
Uh-oh.
I moved his way. “Knox, maybe you should let her?—”
Too late.
His phone was to his ear, and it was clear Cheyenne didn’t let it ring very long (as in, perhaps it didn’t ring at all, but his name came up on her screen, and she was all over it).
“Yeah, it’s me,” he clipped.
She might have said something, but he wasn’t listening.
“That shit you pulled with Luna, Cheyenne, not…fuckin’…cool. We’re done. She doesn’t exist for you. And if you keep pulling shit like this, I don’t either.”
There was a pause.
And then he said, “We’re over.”
Another pause.
And then, “How is this not penetrating? Done. Over. Broken up. No going back. And if there was a chance, which there fuckin’ wasn’t, you blew it with that stunt you pulled with Luna.”
A somewhat longer pause while the invisible hellfire that had banked blazed again before he went on.
“It’s no fun breaking things off with someone, so I’m not all that thrilled I have to repeat myself, but for you to get this, I will. You tried to separate me from my friends. I told you that was a no go. So anytime you were around my friends, you were a moody bitch and whined about leaving, which is just another play to separate me from my friends. I talked to you about it, more than once. There’s no fathomable reason you don’t like hanging with them. They’re good people. Even so, it wasn’t like you had to put up with them twenty-four seven. You just had to be a decent person and give them a shot in the times we were hanging with them. You didn’t. Which means you don’t fit into my life. And since that’s the case, there was no reason for either of us to waste any more time trying to make something that was never gonna work, work. That’s why we’re done, Cheyenne. Now if you don’t get that, I don’t give a fuck. Over means over. What it doesn’t mean is you pulling unbalanced bullshit with Luna.”
Yet another pause where his cheekbones stood out again before he gritted…
“Because she…is…my…friend. Another reason we don’t work, you’re jealous as fuck. It’s unattractive.” Slight pause. “Right. Yeah, I’ll cop to that. There was reason. So why the fuck are you fighting this?”
Reason?
