The threat lands exactly where she meant it to.
"I didn'tfollowyou. I walked you to your room because you couldn't stand—you asked me to!”
"Such a gentleman." Her smile makes me want to vomit. "But that'snotwhat I remember. I remember you wanting to come inside. I remember you kissing me like you meant it."
“Bullshit!” I hiss. “I stopped it, and you know it.”
"Did you?" She's so close now I can see the flecks of gold in her irises. “That’s not what happened, Devon.”
My hands are shaking. I shove them in my pockets so she can't see.
"You're lying, and I know what happened.”
"Am I?" She reaches up, her fingers brushing my chest, and I have to resist the urge to smack her hand away.
“Don’t touch me!” I shove past her, and she laughs, like it’s funny to her.
“Tell Jade I said, hey!”
Then she's gone, disappearing down the hallway toward the studios,and I'm left with my back against the wall and my heart hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat.
The rest of my shift passes without me noticing.
I correct form and count reps. I smile at clients and pretend my entire life isn't crumbling around me.
Jade and I have therapy tomorrow afternoon. We've been making progress—small progress, but I’d take anything at this point.
I keep hearing Mila’s voice in my head.You were so drunk. How can you be sure?
Iamsure. I remember the kiss—the guilt and the wrongness of it—and I remember pulling away. I remember telling her that it was a mistake. Nothing after that until Jade's face on my phone screen, pale and horrified.
I didn’t fuck her. No way. But for some sick reason, Mila wants me tothinkI did.
To anyone else, Mila seems so certain. So calm about it, like she's stating facts instead of planting doubts—why?
I was hammered that night—more drunk than I've ever been—and even though Mila's words keep ringing in my mind; I know nothing happened.
How can you be sure?
By the time I'm locking up, my hands won't stop trembling. I check my phone obsessively, trying to ignore my gut instinct telling me she’s going to contact me. But she can’t—I blocked her.
Then it comes.
UNKNOWN: You know you liked it, Dev.
I stare at the screen until it goes dark. How many fucking burner phones does she have?!
She won’t stop until she gets what she wants—whatever that is. My attention? Power? The satisfaction of wrecking my marriage?
Why is she doing this to us?
I should tell Jade; I know I should. But how do I explain that the woman I kissed is nowworkingat my gym, cornering me in hallways, implying things happened that I can't prove didn't?
Jade's finally starting to trust me again. I can see it in the way she reaches for my hand sometimes, then stops. The way she looked at me in therapy yesterday—wounded but open, like she's trying.
If I tell her about Mila, that trust shatters.
But if I don't tell her, and she finds out some other way...
