For a second, something dark flashes across his face.“You think this is about you getting drunk?”
I stare at him. “Isn’t it?”
He lets out a short laugh with absolutely no humor in it.“Jesus Christ, Carly.”
I blink at him, immediately on high alert, my back stiff and a chill running down my spine. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He looks out over the room for a moment, his jaw tensing, like he’s trying to decide whether to do this here. “I saw your phone last night,” he says, his tone flat and quiet.
My entire body goes still.“What?”
“In the car. On the way home.” His eyes cut back to mine. “A text came through. About yourapartment.”
I just stare at him, my brain taking one sluggish second too long to catch up. I saw that text this morning. I didn’t even consider that it had come through when I was passed out in his car.
Fuck.
“Gray—”
“You signed a lease.” It’s not a question. “You’re moving out.”
I open my mouth, but he’s already going.
“What, exactly, was your plan? Were you waiting until after today? After the wedding? After you got what you needed from me?”
The words hit so hard I actually rock back half a step.“That isn’t?—”
“No?” His voice stays quiet, but it’s worse that way. It’s sharper, colder. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks pretty fucking clear. You needed somewhere to stay. You needed a date for this. You got both. Congratulations.”
Heat flames up my face and neck.“That’s not what it was, Gray.”
“Really?” he says. “It seems like you had your exit planned the whole time.”
“That was from before?—”
“Before what?” His gaze pins me where I stand. “Before you started sleeping with me?”
My throat closes, my hangover-addled mind struggling to keep up with this. My eyes burn, my chest feels heavy, and god, we’re in the middle of a sea of people I hate, and everything is wrong.“Can we please not do this here?” I croak.
“You’d prefer later? More private? Don’t want them to hear?”
“I’d prefer you not stand here acting like I conned you into this.” My voice shakes despite my best efforts. “I didn’t. And you won’t let me explain.”
“Do you still love him?”
A bitter laugh crawls up my throat, cracking and wrong. “What?”
“Last night.” His gaze doesn’t waver. “You gotthatdrunk at his fiancée’s bachelorette party. Why, Carly? Because watching him marry someone else is harder than you expected?”
It takes me a second to process that he has actually said that to me.“Are you actually asking me that?”
“Answer me.”
“No,” I choke. “I don’t feel anything toward him anymore. I barely even loved him to begin with, in comparison.”
“Sure.”
That one wordlands with all the force of a slap.
