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“Faye,” he says, edging into my personal space and cupping my face with his hands, tilting my head so I have to look at him.
“I didn’t know where you were. I texted,” I say, as if I’m the one on the defense.
“I put my phone on silent and didn’t feel it vibrating,” he says softly, brushing a soft kiss to my forehead. “What happened?”
I sigh and shut my eyes. This is ridiculous. He doesn’t want to deal with my insecure bullshit. He shouldn’t have to.
“It was fine,” I say.
“Don’t do that,” he says, dusting my cheeks with kisses.
“Have you been drinking?” I ask, pulling away.
He steps back, as if shocked. “No. I haven’t been drinking. Have you?”
“No.”
The elevator doors open and I get out, walking to our room slowly, but with purpose. He beats me to it and holds the door for me. I go straight into the bathroom and slam the door. I splash water on my face and hover there for a long minute.
I saw what I saw. And what I saw was Liza’s arm draped across Zeke’s shoulders. I didn’t see him responding to her. But he also didn’t push her away. And yet, she has this effect on me. I don’t trust her. She has the ability to make me miserable by doing so little. And I can’t help but think this is just another game for her.
Two quiet raps at the door.
“Faye?” Zeke says softly.
I brace my arms on the sink and take in a shaky breath. I’m overreacting. I know I am. It’s not his fault. And yet I’m still angry that he wasn’t here for me when I needed him. He taps again and I let out a heavy sigh as I open the door. He leans in the doorway, looking handsome and lost. His tech golf shirt pulls across his broad shoulders, accentuating his well-defined chest, and highlighting the way his torso narrows into a V. His golden-brown hair flops across his forehead, flipping up at the ends, giving him a boyish charm.
“What is it?”
“Liza is the worst,” I say, my lip shaking.
He sighs, and then crosses the distance and pulls me into his chest.
“She said she didn’t know where you’d gotten off to when they arrived. She thought you’d added a treatment or gone to run an errand.”
“You could have texted. Or called,” I mumble.
“I thought I did. It didn’t go through. I didn’t see the error message until you came down just now.”
I let him hold me against his chest, stiff, as his soft, regular breaths soothe me.
“What else is this about?” he asks, stroking my hair.
I swallow and wonder how much he really wants to know. Part of me wants to just tell him everything. About how Liza makes me feel uncomfortable and insecure, and that when I saw her standing next to him, it wasn’t even jealousy that I felt. It was loss.
“Your sister was talking about your ex-boyfriend?” he says gently.
That’s not what I expected him to say. I look up at him with wide eyes.
“My ex?”
“When you were all camp counselors together?” He brushes hair off my face and I make an ‘O’ with my mouth.
“How did that come up?”
“Liza,” he says, not going into detail.
Of course. Shewouldbring up the guy I dated for a whole summer. Who she fucked. In my bed.
