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“It’s all I thought about on the drive here—”
“No! That was you being afraid to tell me. I mean, in that moment, in that room, when you heard that opportunity, did you even for a second think of me?” Her gaze dropping to the floor is the only answer I need. Then another thought hits me in the gut. “When?”
“When what?”
“When did you apply?”
She closes her eyes and bites her lip. When she opens them again, she doesn’t even have the decency to look regretful. “Nine months ago.”
“Nine.” I choke on the word. “Why didn’t you tell me? You told me you loved me, but you never really meant it, did you? You didn’t love me. At least not the way you love your career.” Blood rushes in my ears, nausea swirling in my stomach. “You need to go.”
Her eyes widen. “We still have ten days. This doesn’t have to be over—”
“Don’t. You’ve insulted me enough. I don’t need your pity fixes. And I have no desire to be with someone who doesn’t even think of me in the midst of a life-changing decision. Congratulations on getting what you wanted. It wasn’t me, so you can go.”
“Mackie—”
“Don’t call me that. That is what my friends call me.”
“We can still be friends.”
“No. We can’t.” I’m not staying friends with someone who breaks my heart. Only one person has ever been worth that. The only one I’ll never let go of.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly, holding my gaze.
“Sorry doesn’t mean much. Enjoy your dream job. Maybe next time, you should ask yourself if the person you’re with is at least as important to you as your job before you tell them you love them. It’s not love if you always have one foot out the door.”
Maybe you can’t love both a career and a person. I guess I wouldn’t know, seeing as I don’t have either.
Her face hardens. “Don’t pretend you didn’t have shoes by the door ready to run to someone else if they’d even whispered your name.” My eyes flare in disbelief, my jaw slipping open, but she ignores it all. “Take care of yourself, Mackenzie,” is all she says before walking out the door.
I grab the nearest thing I find—a water bottle—and chuck it at the door. Fuck her.
When the door at the bottom of the stairs shuts, I sink to the floor and shatter. I hug my knees to my chest for a moment, crying into them.
This was a truth I knew about her and never wanted to admit.
I told myself she was settling into a serious relationship and was learning to prioritize me.
I told myself her drive was a mirror of her strength.
I told myself I mattered to her.
I told myself lies.
Crawling over to the coffee table, I grab my phone, and with trembling fingers, unlock the screen. I click on my texts and then Miles’s name, but as I reread our brief conversation from earlier, I pause. He’s got a three-week-old daughter. I’m sure he’d come if I asked him to, but he’s already burning himself out.
My chest shakes as I go back to my message list. I could text any of the girls. Amanda would be here with wine and cookie dough in no time at all.
But I scroll down further until I see the name I shouldn’t click on tonight, but I can’t help it. Did I have one foot out the door too? Was I ready to run? I push Mari’s words away. It’s more complex than that. After everything that’s happened between us—all the hell we’ve gone through—Hyla is still the one I want to comfort me when I’m hurting. Before I can list the reasons I shouldn’t, I tap our conversation and type a message.
Me: Are you home?
I know she is, but I don’t want to seem like a stalker.
Hyla: Yeah. What are you up to tonight?
Me: I’m having a kind of shitty night, to be honest.
