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Looking back, I can see how hard he fought. Looking back, I can see how one slip up could have happened. He’d slipped up once. One time.
It was a random isolated incident. A girl at a bar. A man drunk and alone and hurting over the fact that his wife had shut him out over the struggles in their marriage.
He’d confessed the next morning.
I’d walked out that afternoon.
Somehow after that, the girl and he had formed a friendship or a fuckship or whatever.
Maybe said friendship wouldn’t have formed if I hadn’t told him I wouldn’t forgive him. If I told him I wanted to work things out, maybe we wouldn’t be here.
But I couldn’t forgive him.
Or maybe I could, but I’d never forget. And living with him and the memory of him fucking someone else wasn’t something I was prepared to do while the wounds were so fresh.
So, I said I wanted out.
I run a hand through my hair, pulling my wavy tresses over one shoulder as I sit back down in the chair next to him.
“You used to play with your hair when you wanted my attention.”
“Excuse me?” I look up at him.
“When you were anxious and needed me, you’d twist your hair around your finger, or run your hands through it.” He gives me a sad smile. “I assume it doesn’t quite mean the same now.”
“No, it does not.” Although, I didn’t have a whole lot of control over when I fussed with my hair. It was a subconscious tick I did when I was nervous or bored or…flirting.
Fuck.
I can’t wrap my brain around what’s happening. I drop my fingers from my hair and fold them in my lap.
Things are awkward at best between us and I’m straddling the line of feeling bad and annoyed over the fact that he doesn’t remember.
He’s the old Bennett, but I’m not the old Olivia.
He’d broken her in the wake of his betrayal and I had no intention of being her ever again. I wanted to love again. I wanted to move on, and I couldn’t if I let Bennett suck me back in again, no matter the circumstances.
I had to be strong.
My thoughts are interrupted by Caroline floating into the room with a Starbucks cup in her hand. This is one of the nicer hospitals in New York, but it wasn’t one that had that particular coffee shop inside. “Did you… leave?” I ask.
“You didn’t expect me to order a latte from here, did you?” She scrunches her nose. “There was a Starbucks just down the street. Unfortunately, I had to go get it myself.” She rolls her eyes.
Never in a million years, did I expect her to ask if I wanted something, but I’m also shocked that she left the hospital while her son was getting an MRI. I know I’m doing a horrible job at hiding the judgment on my face, and it’s confirmed when I hear a chuckle from the bed.
“Olivia’s right Mother, you couldn’t even bring me something?” He puts on his best pout and puts a hand over his chest dramatically.
My eyes flash to his angrily. “I did not say that.”
“Your face did.” He smirks at me.
“Oh sweetheart, do you want something? Olivia, do you mind? I think it was starting to rain when I came in.”
I flex my hand into a fist and shoot him a look, that thank
fully after all this time he still understands.
