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“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong.” I break the eggs into the bowl, pretty sure I lost some shell in it. I don’t care. It isn’t about the cookies. It’sneverabout the cookies.
“I don’t want to think it but I have to. I worried about holding you back and today was proof that I do.”
“I didn’t want to go.” My voice is on the edge of yelling as I fight to hold back tears.
“But you wanted to be with your sister.”
“Andyou.”
“Exactly.”
I keep stirring trying desperately not to hear what he’s saying. Hoping if I just focus on the dough, he’ll give up and we can forget this ever happened.
“Riley,” he says taking the bowl and spoon setting it aside, then taking my hands. “It’s always going to be like this with me. And you shouldn’t have to choose. You should be with someone who can be with you.”
“But I want to be with you. Daniel, I—I love you.” This isn’t how I wanted to tell him but he needs to know.
He freezes for a moment. Long enough for me to see the response in his eyes before he betrays them and tells me, “I’m not right for you, Riley. I never was. I never will be.”
“You’re wrong.” A waterfall of tears covers my cheeks. I struggle to catch my breath.
“I’ll leave,” he says ignoring me. “Down to the studio for a couple of hours, so you can pack your things in peace. You can leave your key on the table.”
“Daniel.” Why won’t he listen to me? Goddammit. This is the stubbornness Julia warned me about. But what am I supposed to do about it? Once he makes up his mind, there’s no changing it.
The door to the stairs down to the shop shuts between us.
I rip the zipper open on my purse and pull out my keys. His falls into my palm and the memory of the day he gave it to me flashes behind my eyes.
“You know what? Fuck this.”
∞∞∞
DANIEL
Regret pulses—aches in every vein and muscle in my body where I sit staring at the lump of clay spinning pointlessly on my wheel. This is supposed to be my escape. Distract me from how much I hate myself. But that’s all I can do.
After she left with Lainey, I was certain letting her go was the right thing to do. But then…
She loves me.
I’m a bastard. Here I am, theadult, unable to admit to myself how I feel about her while she has no problem telling me she loves me.
Who’s the mature one here?
I plant my fist in the unformed clay. The wheel rattles. There’s a good chance I busted something.
Great.
When I shift to inspect the damage, the studio door swings wide. In it, stands Riley, nostrils flaring and a prominent wrinkle in her forehead from pushing her eyebrows as close together as they’ll go.
My mouth hangs open. The urge to speak trampled into the ground by the fear of saying something that will provoke her to attack.
But she’s already on the offensive growling at me, “Fuck you, Daniel.”
∞∞∞
RILEY
