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With every passing second, my heart sank deeper into the pit of my stomach, because… yeah, I knew.
Come on, you goddamned coward. Say it. Fucking say it.
You owe me that much, you cheating son of a bitch.
Say. It.
I was going to grind my teeth to dust at this rate. I couldn’t take it. If he wasn’t going to own up to what he’d done and just say the words, then he could get the fuck out of here, so I inhaled sharply, ready to tell him—
“I fucked up.” He took a deep breath and, with a hell of a lot of effort, finally met my gaze. “In Toronto.”
I froze, lips still apart and that inhalation lodged in my throat.
Wait. No. Don’t say it. Don’t.
Matteo, please don’t let it be true.
You didn’t…
With tears in his eyes, he whispered, “I’m sorry, Owen. I… While I was in Toronto… I cheated.”
The memory tore through my consciousness, dragging up all the emotions with it. The hurt. The betrayal. The utter disbelief that someone I loved that much could hurt me so badly. The tears I remembered were as vivid as the ones scorching hot lines down my cheeks right now.
That night had stretched its tentacles over every day since. More than once, I’d locked myself in my office at work so I could have a moment to break down before pulling myself together in time to meet my next client. Christmas had come and gone without a lot of fanfare because I’d begged off visiting my family. I hadn’t wanted to bring down the mood. So it had just been me, a bottle of wine, and the most ridiculous comedies I could find on any streaming network. I’d called in sick on Valentine’s Day. My boss had to have known I was full of it, and she was absolutelynotone to put up with malingering, but she’d gently told me to take care of myself.
At my coworker’s wedding, one of the groomsmen had flirted with me. We’d danced, laughing at how drenched we all were, and then we’d ended up making out in the parking lot until I’d realized my heart wasn’t in it. I still had his number in my phone. He’d probably forgotten about me. Or blocked me because while I could apparently be attractive when I was a drowned rat, I doubted a mopey“I can’t do this, I’m sorry”was much of a turn-on.
I filled out a hookup app profile but couldn’t bring myself to activate it. I went to a couple of clubs where pre-Matteo me had had more than a few sexy encounters, but I didn’t turn anyone’s heads. It was hard to attract anyone when I was wearing“my asshole boyfriend cheated on me”like a bad cologne.
My sister had gently suggested therapy. “It’s been months. I know he hurt you, but sweetheart, you’ve got to move forward with your life. He doesn’t deserve to take that much time from you.”
I’d promised I would, but then I hadn’t. Especially with the one-year mark coming up fast, I’d gotten angry. HowdareMatteo leave me so miserable that I still couldn’t get back on the rails a wholeyearlater? Instead of therapy, I’d forced myself to get on Tinder and reach out. I’d met someone. Nico. Gone out for drinks with him. Flirted a little.
And died inside all over again when—just like I had with that damn groomsmen—I’d realized my heart wasn’t in it.
Nico wasn’t Matteo. He hadn’t broken my heart or my trust like Matteo had, but he also just… wasn’t Matteo. And fuck me, but I was still hung up on that asshole. No one measured up to the man I’d thought he was, and everyone was suspect because they might lie to me like he did.
Right there on a date with another man, I realized I was still neck-deep in all the emotions I just couldn’t move past. I’d wanted to both cry and throw something in that moment.
“Owen?” Nico slid his hand over mine. “You still with me?”
I wanted to be. Jesus Christ, I wanted to be.
But I wasn’t, and he deserved better than me half-assing this, so I dropped my gaze and shook my head. “I’m sorry. I, um… I don’t think I’m ready for this after all.”
“Oh. Is everything okay?” His voice was full of concern, which just made me feel worse. Nico was a good guy. He would probably make an amazing boyfriend.
All the more reason to walk away and let him find someone whose head was in the game.
“I’ll be fine,” I lied. “I think I just… I need to spend a little time on my own.” Right. Because I hadn’t been alone for almost an entire fuckingyear.
The perfect bastard gave me a hug and kissed my cheek, and he told me to hit him up if I wanted to give this another try. Then he refused to let me cover the check.
I left and grabbed an Uber, but I didn’t go home. Fifteen minutes after I’d walked away from Nico like the dumbass I was, I’d stormed into Gach Rud, not even noticing my surroundings because I was on a mission. I was angry with Matteo for ruining my ability to trust, and angry with myself for not being able to get over Matteo, and I was tired of fighting the goddamned past.
So I met Ronan’s startled gaze across the cases and declared, “A friend told me you can get rid of bad memories.” I’d slammed my wallet down on the glass. “I don’t care how much it costs.”
Oh, had those words come back to bite me in the ass. The potion had been expensive, yes, but it wasn’t the monetary price tag that had left me with a bad case of sticker shock.
