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“Rose! What is wrong with you? Aren’t you two a bit old to be playing tag?”
I think I accidentally swallowed my tongue upon impact.
“Aren’t you two a bit broken up for you to show up unannounced?” James’ voice thunders over me. He comes up to me taking a protective stance. “Are you OK?” He whispers, harnessing the rage he must be feeling to make sure I’m not hurt.
All I can manage is a small nod.
“Always a pleasure, James. However, I fail to see how our relationship status is any of your business. You don’t have what it takes to pull off ‘caring older brother’.”
I feel James jerk in response to the taunt, but he keeps himself in check. His jaw is clenching in rhythmic pulses, on beat with my thundering heart.
“Besides, it is Valentine’s Day. Of course, I would come here to see Rose, regardless of… We have been together for four years, that’s not something you just casually cast aside.” The haughtiness in Greg’s tone finally snaps me out of it.
I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off. “Aren’t you going to invite me in, darling? I’ve been waiting outside in the cold all this time.” He lifts the collar of his coat to make his point.
“It’s not like I kept you waiting, Gregory. You chose to come.”
“A little romance never hurt anybody, especially today. I wanted to surprise you,” he defends with a smug shrug.
“You succeeded.” I turn my back on him and go towards the front door. James follows, acting as a barrier between me and my ex.
“Say the word, Rose, and I’ll gladly kick Romeo to the curb.” His offer is riddled with menace. Greg wouldn’t hesitate to press charges.
“It’s alright, Archer, I can handle him.”
“Handle me?” Greg claps back.
“Better her than me, lover boy. I’ll be in the kitchen.” If I need him. That is what James is telling me.
“And we will be in the living room. Thanks for the geo tracking, Archer.” Fuck, Greg. Big mistake.
“You don’t get to call me that.” James enunciates every word with purpose and venom. His body tilts forward, his index pointing sharply like a loaded gun. There’s a threat behind it, and Greg knows better than to help press the trigger.
He squints his eyes condescendingly, before making his way to the living room without saying another word.
“I’ll be quick, I promise,” I try to placate James. He spins on his heels and disappears to the right of the foyer, shoes, coat and all.
Fuck. Okay. I can do this.
I stall for an extra ten seconds while I remove my snow gear, and head to the living room. Greg has neatly folded his long black coat and draped it over the back of the couch. He waits by the fireplace, hands behind his back, in an effort to look imposing. To me he just looks like a pompous Regency debutante straight out of an Austen novel. It hits me that I haven't actually seen him for him in a very long time.
“What is this about, darling?” I have never liked him calling me that, I am almost one hundred percent sure he only does it because that’s what Dad calls Elizabeth.
“What is what about, Greg?”
“This,” he explains, “you running away instead of facing our ‘situation’ head on.”
“Situation? I didn’t run away. I left because we broke up. It is fairly standard breakup procedure.”
He moves to the couch, patting the spot next to him. I don’t budge.
“Darling, all I want is to take you home.”
“Home? What home, Greg? We don’t have a home! You terminated our lease without even talking to me first!”
“First of all, a home is made by the people in it. Second, it has been taken care of. The apartment is ours.” His smile is genuine, but I don’t like the complacency behind it.
“Again, without asking me!” I yell out, the frustration from two days ago finding an outlet through my voice.
