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Here in my condo, rage boiled up in me so suddenly and fiercely that I almost threw my phone across the room as I shouted, “You motherfucker!”
That liar! That cheating asshole who could look me right in the eye and grab on to the chance to pretend that, no, he’d never cheated. We just hadn’t worked out. Things were amicable. We were good.
That he hadn’t ruined the best relationship I’d ever had.
Six years. Six. Goddamned.Years.
And he’d quite literally fucked it away.
I put my phone down, leaned my elbows on my knees, and pushed my hands into my hair. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to cry. I wanted to remember everything so I didn’t have to think any more about what might’ve been, and I wanted to forget everything so I didn’t even know it existed anymore.
How could he do this? Had he explained it back then? Or just dropped the bomb and walked away to let me live with the aftermath?
I wanted to believe he wouldn’t do that. But I’d believed for six years that he wouldn’t cheat, and here we fucking were.
I slid my hands from my hair to the back of my neck, squeezing my eyes shut as I tried to fit all this into my brain.
It was no exaggeration to call this morning traumatic. Waking up in a world that was all wrong with a missing year of my life—yeah, that fucked me up. It was terrifying and disorienting, especially when I still didn’t know if it was reversible.
But this? If waking up this morning had been the rug getting yanked out from under me, this was the floor collapsing.
How, Matteo? Why?
And of course, right then, my phone vibrated.
Matteo:Arm is fine. Heading your way. See you in 20.
It was so, so tempting to respond that he could go fuck himself. I didn’t want to see him. Not now. Not ever. Especially not after he’dliedto me and pretended he hadn’t done what I now knew he had. We hadn’t “broken up.” We hadn’t “figured out we weren’t right for each other.” He’d stuck his dick where it didn’t belong and ruined everything. Like hell did I want to see that asshole, never mind let him into my condo.
But no. No, I wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily. We were doing this face to goddamned face.
So I sent back a thumbs-up emoji.
And then I waited.
Chapter 6
Matteo
All the way to the condo, I was a nervous wreck. I barely even noticed the relentless burning and throbbing in my arm over the whirring in my head.
Lia was right. I was right. This was what I needed to do, and then I’d have to let the chips fall where they would. If Owen booted me out and never wanted to see me again—again—then so be it. He deserved the truth, and I deserved whatever came next.
I wasn’t sure I’d get through this without throwing up, breaking down, or both, but I’d deal with that when I got there.
By the time I reached his condo, I was nauseated and shaky, but determined. I went inside, got in the elevator, and I pushed my shoulders back and took some deep breaths as I watched the floor numbers tick upward. Owen deserved the truth, I reminded myself again and again. He deserved to know what I’d done so he could decide if he really wanted my help with this or if he wanted me to get the fuck out of his life again.
I didn’t even know which response I was hoping for. I loved him, and I wanted to be in his life, but every time I looked at him, the guilt was unbearable. Even in theextraordinarilyunlikely event that he fell all over himself to forgive me and begged me to come back, I wasn’t so sure I could. It didn’t matter how much he forgave me if I couldn’t forgive myself, and the probability of that happening fell somewhere in the ballpark of a snowball’s chance in hell.
The elevator stopped. The doors opened. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as I headed down the hall, and at his condo, I steeled myself again.
I could do this. Iwoulddo this. Owen deserved my honesty, even if it was going to hurt. Again.
I raised my hand to knock, but the door swung inward, and Owen was suddenly right in my face.
“Youcheatedon me?” he snarled. “Seriously?”
I took a startled step back, staring at him in shock and horror. “I—”
