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Matt is laughing at me, or maybe at the situation. I’m not sure. “Apparently not, Cora.” He stares at me. “When were you going to tell me about him?”
I don’t reply.
His throat bobs. “Why did you kiss him?”
Why does the question make me feel defensive? “He kissed me,” I tell Matt, unable to meet his eyes as waves of guilt wash over me.
But I’m not lying.
Tristan kissed me.
You let him.
I try to ignore the mocking voice in my head.
You let him. You wanted that kiss. You needed it.
God!
“I always knew there had to be someone else.” Matt is saying. He jerks his tie and glares at me. “I hoped…I don’t know...I hoped if I was patient for long enough, you’d forget about him. But Kane…fucking Tristan Kane. EvenIwould sleep with Tristan Kane if I could. How on earth am I ever going to compete with that?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I try to reach for him again, but he jerks back. Away from me. As if he can’t bear for me to touch him. “You don’t have to compete with him.” I need him to believe that. I need to believe that. “You never had to.”
Matt laughs bitterly. “Because there’d be no point. I’d lose.”
“That’s not true.”
Even as I say the words, I know there’s no point. He doesn’t believe me. And why should he? He’s right and deep down, I know it. He never stood a chance against even the memory of Tristan.
“I just…” He takes a deep breath. “I wanted to see you, for myself, so I could…” He shakes his head. “It’s over, Cora.”
Tears sting my eyes. “Don’t do this.”
“No…It is…” His tone is resignation mixed with determination. “I can’t keep waiting on the sidelines for you to make up your mind and commit to me.”
“I am committed to you,” I whisper through tears. I can’t lose Matt, not now. Not with Tristan hovering around me like a storm about to burst. “This is what he wants. Don’t let him win. You want to get engaged? Hell, you want to get married right now? Then let’s do it.”
“To spite him?” Matt’s gaze is almost pitying. He takes a few steps, and when he’s right in front of me, he gives me a sad smile. “You’re not over Tristan Kane,” he says softly.
“I am.” There’s a desperation in my voice that has nothing to do with the truth, and everything to do with what I want Matt to believe. WhatIwant to believe.
Matt sighs. “Goodbye, Cora. I’ll see you around. I guess.”
* * *
I stareat the door long after it closes behind Matt. In the ensuing silence, it feels as if I’m staring at Tristan’s smirking face.
Run away. You know you want to.
I’m not happy.
Run away.
Unable to bear that imaginary smirk, I grab the nearest thing I can reach and hurl it as hard as I can. It’s a glass ornament, and it shatters noisily against the door, like my life shattering against the brutal force of Tristan’s unrelenting emotional assault.
Ignoring the shards, I sit alone in the darkness drinking more wine, hardly tasting it as I down one glass, then pour myself a second one. Across from me on the other side of my sofa, my phone continues to beep as new emails come in. With every beep, the screen lights up, throwing a ghostly white light across the room.
Poor Matt.
