“About you and Oliver?” Luke says easily.
I stop again. “What?”
Luke stares at me, then shrugs like he’s talking about the weather. “Yeah. I’ve known for ages.”
I sit up straighter. “What?” My head whips towards Pippa. “Did you tell him?”
She holds both hands up like I accused her of murder. “No! I swear!”
Luke plops down on the couch, casual as anything. “She’s clear. I figured it out on my own. You two were so obvious.”
My cheeks burn. “Seriously? We’ve beentryingto keep it a secret.”
“I know,” he says, unfazed. “That’s what makes it so funny.”
“Seriously?”
Luke grins, annoyingly smug. “I’ve known him for ages. I’ve known you even longer. Neither of you are a secret to me.”
I groan, but some of the pressure in my chest loosens.
“You won’t tell anyone?”
Luke snorts. “Please. Whatever you two have going on has been far more entertaining than an episode ofEastEnders. I won’t tell a soul.”
I laugh, for the first time in days, and it feels good, like the unclenching of a fist I didn’t realize I was holding.
“What did Matt do this time, then?” Luke asks, leaning forward.
I stare into my glass, watching the wine swirl as I recap the entire conversation for a second time. Pippa’s jaw tightens even though she’s heard the story before.
Luke’s eyes darken as he shakes his head, bewildered. “I have no idea how you stayed with that guy for so long.”
I don’tknow where it’s coming from, but suddenly all these words are clawing their way out of me like they’ve been waiting for years to make their escape.
“Because I thought that was what love was,” I whisper.
Luke’s eyes soften. “What do you mean?”
“I thought that’s what love was,” I say again. “Shrinking. Compromising. Contorting yourself to someone else so much that you couldn’t bend any further. I thought love was proving you were worth staying for, worth even loving at all. I thought if I could just be good enough, perfect enough, then I’d be deserving of more.”
My eyes sting, but I keep going.
Luke doesn’t say anything. He just passes me the wine bottle and I top off my glass again.
“It’s easy to look back on now and say some philosophical, emotionally intelligent thing. I know he didn’t love me. I think deep down, part of me knew even back then that he didn’t love me. Not really. Sometimes I even wonder if I really loved him. I thought I did, but how would I even have been capable of it? He took away my heart, my soul, and my voice. He left me nothing to love him with. It was like he took all my tools away and expected me to build a house.”
“I hate that you ever even met him,” Luke admits through gritted teeth.
I swallow, voice fraying. “It’s easy to say in hindsight that I wish I had never met him. I don’t know if that’s true though. I don’t wish for the pain he inflicted on me. I don’t wish to be constantly looking over my shoulder, wondering if I’m too loud, or too successful, or too much myself. But some small part of me wonders—would I be the person I am now, the person I’m proud to be, if he hadn’t broken me first? And that thought pisses me off more than anything, because I don’t want a single part of me to be because of him. I don’t want him getting credit for making me the person I am. He’s the one that broke me. Why should he get any credit for how I put myself back together?”
Pippa reaches over and grabs my hand. “But you left. You finally did it.”
I nod. “I know. Part of me still hates myself for how long it took, though.”
“Why” Luke asks, voice soft.
“Because I’m terrified of ever doing it again,” I admit.
