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But it still roars mercilessly nonetheless.
It doesn’t help that Carter and I haven’t really spoken since our semi-argument. He’s called, but I haven’t answered.
Or called back.
Honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing. Carter and I are fine now but I wish we could get back to what we had before.
Before he cheated.
Maybe I haven’t truly forgiven him, maybe that’s the problem. I’m not sure.
It just feels like we’re in this sort of purgatory and I don’t know how to get us out.
I don’t even know if I want to get us out.
He did break a part of me when he slept with someone else instead of me. Before me.
When we’d started dating, I wasn’t ready to have sex with him. I’d seen the terrible, sex-first relationships my mom was having and I was cautious and scared of repeating the same cycle.
So we’d waited and he’d been so patient. Attentive and reassuring, he didn’t pressure me. At least not at the beginning.
We’d done other things and we’d grown together as a couple and I thought we were happy. I was ready and was planning a special night for us when he told me he’d cheated.
That’d been a record scratch moment in the relationship and I’d left for Switzerland two months later.
Unfortunately, we hadn’t really taken the time to put the relationship back on the right course before I left.
That’s why we’re hovering in this in between now, distance making it impossible to go one way or the other.
With a bone deep sigh, I look back at where Bellamy is. My eyes widen when I see who she’s talking to.
Rogue.
His hands are wrapped around her and I can tell even from where I stand that jealousy pours off him in waves.
He came for her.
I thought he might come or at least reach out to her when he saw the story I posted.
She’d been missing him and he’d needed a kick up the ass to remember he had a literal queen pining after him back home.
I’m happy for Bellamy and only a little bit jealous he tracked her down. Say what you will about their relationship but that’s a pretty romantic gesture.
“Hello, love.”
It’s very noisy in the club and he doesn’t speak particularly loudly, but somehow his words float over to me and singe into every pore of my exposed skin.
My eyes close slowly as a tremor slides down the length of my spine.
It’s awareness that he’s suddenly, unexpectedly here.
Apprehension at what I’m going to see when I turn around.
Adrenaline at the thought of what verbal sparring is about to happen.
I turn around and my eyes are rewarded with the gift of Rhys standing before me clad in an expensive navy suit. It’s tailored to within an inch of his life around his large body, paired with black shoes and a white pocket square.
More importantly, more destructively, it matches the color of his eyes.
