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“I'm gonna give you ten seconds to put your damn jacket back on, India.”
“Or what?” she sasses.
“Or you won't fucking like what happens.”
“Why don't you put it back on for me?” she asks and though I can't see her, I can imagine her standing there with one hand on her hip and the other twisting a black strand of hair around her finger.
“'Cause I don't wanna touch you or look at you.” The words are harsh, but god knows she needs to hear them. I don't know what the fuck else to say right now to get her out of my house and life for good.
“You've never had a problem touching me before.”
“We were together then, India, but we're not anymore. I'm with Thea now.”
“God fucking damn it,” she shrieks and stamps her foot. “I don't fucking get it, Cole. What's so special about her?”
Rolling my eyes beneath the hand I'm still shielding myself with, I say, “I'm not doing this with you.”
“Yes, you fucking are!” she yells. “I keep trying to get through to you, Cole. I miss you. I miss how we used to be.”
“You ended things with me, India.” I sigh, shaking my head as I rub my temples.
“Only because it was so obvious that you were still in love with Thea. You always made it out like I was making all that shit up in my head, but I was right, wasn't I? You were in love with her this whole time and you were lying to everyone about it. You fucking gaslit me, Cole.”
Sighing, I turn my back on her and finally drop the hand from my face. “I know. I was an asshole. There’s no excuse for it. I never meant to make you feel crazy. Guess I was just so used to lyin’ to myself about how I felt that I lied to everyone else too. You deserved better than that and I'm truly so damn sorry,” I admit, because I was an asshole. There’s no two ways about it. Mama would be clutching her pearls if she knew how I'd treated India. “But please can we have this conversation once you've put your clothes back on? I can't talk to you while you're naked.”
“Fine.” She huffs, and I release a long sigh of relief at the sound of rustling material as she slips the coat back onto her body. Daring to cast a glance at her out of the corner of my eye, I relax when I see her tying the belt around her waist.
“You good?” I ask.
“Yep.”
I ignore the insolent way she spits the word at me or the overexaggerated pop of the P and lead her through to the living room.
“Why do you keep doing this?” I ask her, perching on the edge of the coffee table as she takes a seat on the couch. I don't want her to get the idea that I'm comfortable with her being back in my space, in the place where every corner now reminds me of Thea.
“I always got the most out of you when we were fucking.” She shrugs. “It's when you were at your best.”
Not knowing how to take that, I ask, “What were you trying to get out of me?”
Something like sadness seems to overcome her, the air around her turning blue. It's an odd thing to watch since sorrow isn't an emotion I'm used to seeing from her. It was always displeasure or irritation through our relationship, anger sometimes, even. But never sadness. It knocks me back a bit.
“Just wanted to know what she has that I don't.” She redirects her dark eyes to the space by her feet, then seems to rethink herself. “Ya know what? I need a drink if we're gonna have this conversation. You got wine?”
“No fucking chance.” I almost laugh at her audacity. “You can have water.”
She pouts like a kid, scrunching her forehead into a petulant scowl. “Whatever.”
Checking the fridge, I grumble when I find it empty. “I don’t have any bottled stuff left, you good with tap?” I don't know why I ask since I couldn't care less what her preference is, but the manners Mama raised me with are a habit I can't shake even when I want to.
“You know I hate tap water.”
I slam the door to the fridge closed. “Don't have anything, then.”
She smirks at my grumpiness. “Have any in the garage?”
Sighing in frustration, I pinch the bridge of my nose between two fingers. I want to hear her out. I do. She deserves to get whatever she needs to off her chest because I know that I was a less-than-stellar boyfriend. I even know that I'm probably acting like a bigger asshole now than necessary, but all I can think about is how I'm going to explain to Thea that my ex-girlfriend showed up naked at my door again and stayed to have a drink.
“If I go get you a bottle, do you promise to give my key back?”
