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“Klein. Call me Klein or call me nothing. In fact, I’d prefer nothing. Because that’s how you made me feel.”
Her shoulders sag, and her eyes drop to the floor. When her throat bobs with a tight swallow, I wonder if I’ve gone too far.
Thisisn’tme.
The anger. The hate. The vitriol.
I’m the guy who bakes pies with his mother. Who helps his friends move. Who treats ladies the way my dad treated my mother until the day he died. I like old show tunes and rom-coms. I’m the guy you talk to when life gets you down because you know I’ll help you find the silver lining.
I don’t raise my voice in anger andneverat a woman.
I don’t fling hateful insults.
And I certainly don’t want to punish a woman for wounding my feelings.
But she infuriates and confuses me. I want her so fucking bad, even though she hurt me and annihilated my trust. Now that this darkness has infiltrated my psyche, I can’t escape it.
Without meeting my eyes, she speaks in barely a whisper. “No.”
I lean in to hear her better. “What? Did you say no? No what?”
A little louder now, she says, “No, I don’t want you to be like me. I don’t want anyone to be like me. I don’t even want to be like me. Especially not you. You’re too…” Her voice cracks, and her words trail off.
My toe taps inside my shoe as the storm brews inside me, frantic to escape. “I’m too what?”
“You’re too good. Too kind. Too innocent. Too honest. For you to be more like me would be a tragedy.”
I have no idea how to respond to that.
Part of me wants to comfort her because I don’t like seeing her upset. But that part of me is not in charge right now.
It’s not like she cared about my feelings, so why do I care about hers?
“Is that why you went after me? Because I was good and honest? An easy target?”
She meets my eyes, finally brave enough to look at me. “That’s not why, Cal. I mean Klein.”
“Because I was your competition for the job, right? That’s why?”
Her eyes fall to the floor again, and she sucks her lips into her mouth like she’s forcing herself to be quiet.
And she nods.
My voice softens at her admission, and my heart squeezes painfully. Although I already knew why, I’d held out hope I was wrong or that there was a better explanation.
But that hope is gone now. Long gone.
“Was it worth it? Did you get what you wanted, Mia?” I hear the hurt in my shaky tone, but I don’t know if she does. Does she even have empathy?
She shrugs while twisting and fidgeting with her hands, evading the question.
“And sleeping with me was what? A bonus for a job well done? A perk of the con? Or did you plant something in my condo? Steal something when I wasn’t looking? Clone my phone? Get something off my laptop while I slept?”
Her eyes shoot to my face, and she shakes her head vehemently. “No, that’s not why. Sleeping with you wasneverpart of the plan.”
There it is. Another reminder that I was part of a plan. An op. A mission.
My teeth grind, and it feels like I’ve been socked in the stomach by one of Sawyer’s body blows.
