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I grab the first utensil my fingers find from my drawer and hold it in front of me. “I told you to stay over there.”
He stops and raises his eyebrows. “Are you going to stab me with your spatula?” He scoffs but stays where he is—his expression perplexed. “Why are you afraid of me? I’ve never laid a hand on you.”
“Yes, I know,” I say through my gritted jaw. “I remember very well, how you kicked me out of your apartment for daring to lay a hand on you.”
“Apollo, I’m sorry. It wasn’t the right time,” he says softly.
“But, now it is?” I ask sarcastically.
“Yes, well … it has been for a while, but I thought you were happy and settled. I didn’t want to disturb that.”
“Well, what’s changed?”
“I know that I hurt you. I know that a lot of time has passed. But time has done nothing to diminish my feelings for you. I know that when we were a part of each other’s lives, you were happy. You told me that night how you felt about me. What you wanted from me. And I couldn’t give it to you then.”
“But you can now? Is that what you’re going to say next?” I shout, the flashes of pain from that night nearly choking me. I slam the spatula down so hard the handle breaks. His face pales as I stalk toward him. He doesn’t back away but his shoulders tense as I approach.
“You’re waltzing back into my life to tell me that you’re done fucking the world, and you’re breaking up with your girlfriend who everyone is expecting you to propose to because you see a picture of me looking less than happy? Is that right?” I ask, standing toe to toe with him now.
“No, that’s not right.” His jaw is clenched and I know I’ve pissed him off. I don’t care.
“I want to tell you about Amber.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I already know about Amber,” I hiss.
“What do you mean?” He looks surprised and wary.
“I mean, you took her on a third date.”
“Is that supposed to mean something?
“I can’t believe you’re acting like you don’t remember,” I say, my exasperation reaching heights I didn’t even know were possible.
He shrugs, his eyes genuinely confused. “I really have no clue what you mean.”
“Is this the twilight zone? You said the third date means you were going to marry her,” I shout up at him. He blankly stares down at me and then his eyes widen before he bursts out laughing.
I’ve had just about enough of this.
I slip past and walk to my door. “I want you to leave. You’ve done nothing but be cryptic and insulting since you got here. I don’t have room for this shit in my life. Go away, leave me in peace. I’ve been fine for years without you.” I hate how my voice breaks and how my eyes sting. My heart feels like it’s breaking all over again.
I’m just about to open the door when Graham’s hand closes around my wrist. I pull my hand free and whip around to face him. I don’t care that he’ll see my tears.
He sighs sadly and reaches out to brush my cheek. I step away but not before his thumb skims my face. He walks back to the blue chair and sits down again. His posture lacks the confidence from earlier, and he looks nervous.
“I’m going to tell you something I shouldn’t. I ask that no matter what the outcome of this conversation is, you don’t repeat it to anyone.” His voice is deep and grave.
Anxiety and confusion twist in my gut, but I nod in agreement and then hold my breath.
“Apollo, that three date thing was just something I made up with my publicist as an answer to the question about my dating life. None of that was real. Nothing I did publicly was real. It was all a persona. An image. A product. I am still the same person. I know what it looks like.” His gaze goes from direct to penetrating, and he says, “Amber and I are not a couple. She’s my beard, and I was hers.”
My jaw drops. And I shake my head to clear it.
“Did you say beard?”
“Yes. I said beard. Not that I’m from Krypton. It’s not exactly unheard of,” he says, his tone defensive.
“What in the world do you need a beard for?” I ask in horror.
