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“Dev…” I approach her, but she throws up a hand, pushes me back.
“I know you prefer dick. And that right there is 99% of our problem.”
“Oh, you know, do you.”
“Yes. I do. You were openly bi-curious when we met nine months ago. You’d never been with a woman.”
“I hadn’t been with a man eith—”
“Let me finish. Please. We had a good run for …” She pauses, bobs her head, “…maybe three months? But that’s where it stopped. I tried but I’m done.”
When I met her in February, I was exploring. What female doesn’t these days? But I’d come across one too many alphaholes prior to that. And my history with men … it always made me hesitant to get involved with anyone who had a dick. So, saying I’mall about itis an ironic choice of words. Particularly when I’ve never even had dick.
Not consensually anyway.
When I met Devin, there was something about her. She was so sweet and petite, and sexy and cute. She did turn me on. I did fall in love with her, I think.
But lately…
“So things have been rough for—”
“Too long, Tove. I don’t even know who you are anymore. I know you have a shitty past, even though I don’t know everything that happened because you don’t seem to trust me enough to tell me.”
I tighten up and she continues.
“On top of that, you haven’t initiated sex in months. And …” She flicks her gaze up, like she can’t bear to look at me. “Honestly, I don’t even care anymore.”
I can’t say I’m surprised. She’s right. Devin knows very little about what happened to me. And most of our relationship has been a strain. I should go to her, pull her in my arms and try to make amends. But I’m stuck. And she doesn’t care.
I lean against the counter, feeling the guilt set in like dead weight. “Where will you go?”
Her mouth twists, and her head moves wearily side to side. Devin is a year younger than I am and is not good with money. She works part-time at a coffee shop and typically spends her paycheck before it lands in her account because she grew up so poor that she just doesn’t know any better. I can’t judge, though. My daddy pays all my bills. Or at least gives me a full-time salary despite only working part-time, so I know how to juggle finances. Then again, he owns Nilssen Designs, a multi-billion-dollar fashion company, so I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I’m not sure Devin’s even aware that bills have to be paid on a monthly basis. I’ve been supporting her since she left her last girlfriend and moved in with me.
“I’m going back to my parents’ place for a while. Since they’re in Salt Lake City until the end of the year taking care of Granny, it will give me some time to save up for my own place. Maybe find a full-time gig.”
I nod and shift my gaze to the boxes. “You need help with these?”
“No. Swain is coming with her truck. We’ll get it all tomorrow.”
“So, you’ve just been packing all day? You couldn’t just tell me you wanted to break up and let me to help you?”
Her jaw ticks and she huffs, shaking her head. She marches to the bedroom and grabs an overstuffed duffel bag, slinging it over her shoulder before coming back out. “You don’t get to be nice to me. Seriously.”
“Seriously what? I care about you.”
“Youcareabout me?” Her arms cross, slamming against her chest.
“Yes. Why is this a shock?”
She approaches me, anger stirring in her deep-set gray eyes. Eyes I used to love getting lost in.
Eyes that suddenly seem to have a few secrets of their own.
“You’ve always been passive-aggressive as hell. But this takes the cake, Tove.”
I know I should feel something. Something like what she’s feeling. But I just don’t. I lower my voice. “How is it passive aggressive to want to help?”
“Fuck you,” she spits out.
