Page 51 of To All the Men I’ve Killed Before

‘Why don’t we go on a double date? You and Travis. Me and Agnes? It would be perfect. You can have a date without it feeling too date-y. And, if things go well, we can slip off and … you know … do our own thing. What do you think?’

What do I think?

I think it sounds nightmarish.

I think I’d rather spend an evening peeling off my hangnails and dipping my fingers in salt.

But Antoinette’s face is pink with excitement. It’s the only thing I’ve seen her excited about that doesn’t involve doing unspeakably violent things to mildly offensive men. And she’s clasping her hands together, almost begging me.

How can I say no?

‘Fine,’ I say. ‘I’ll do it. But on the condition that if it starts to feel awful at any point, we can leave.’

She gives a little squeal and throws her arms around me.

It’s the most physical contact I’ve had with another human in weeks.

It actually feels nice.

‘I’m going to go and tell Agnes right now,’ she says. ‘You text Travis and tell him you’ve changed your mind. Ask him if he’s free tonight.’ She squeals again. ‘This is going to be so much fun! You’re the best.’

And then she skips out of the door like Christmas is waiting for her outside.

I stare after her.

I don’t remember the last time I was that excited about anything.

Anything apart from killing Aidan Ward.

What has my life become?

I pick up my phone and stare at it for a few seconds before I tap out a text to Travis.

Been thinking about what you said. Maybe a date would be fun. If you’re happy to share it with Antoinette and her current love interest? Free tonight?

I sigh and open the message thread with Charlie. The thread I’ve protected like a newborn. I stare at the messages for a moment. They become blurry and I can taste the salt of my tears when I lick my lips. Before I can change my mind, I swipe and hit the little red bin icon that appears.

Gone.

Just like that.

The archive of our relationship.

Of course, I could always just restore them and I’m not feeling brave enough to delete them permanently.

But it’s a step forward.

A positive one.

Because Antoinette is right.

I have to let him go.

It might kill me, but it’s something I have to do.

‘Set it free to get it back,’ I whisper at my phone.

And, as if it’s heard me, it lights up with a notification.