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“Who am I to you?”
“I don’t understand.”
He shakes his head sadly. “You do though. Just tell me.”
“You’re my best friend,” I finally admit.
“Is that it?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“If it’s the truth,” he tells me.
“It is.”
Taking a deep breath, he nods once before leaning over to pick up a water bottle and towel on the floor.
“Message received.”
The resignation and finality of his statement have panic creeping in. “What? What message? I didn’t say anything.”
“But you did. Even without saying a word.”
“What did I say?”
“You got your part, right? That’s how long this was supposed to last.” He motions between us. “That should have been my cue.”
“Cue? Cue for what?”
“I forgot my place for a second, but it came back like a two-by-four to the back of the head.”
“Your place?” What is he talking about?
He nods. “Temporary. I fixed what I needed to fix this time. Like always.”
“Temp…”
“Don’t worry,” he assures me. “I know you’re busy getting ready to leave for Ireland. I’ll talk to my attorney about drawing up the papers.”
“Papers?”
“Divorce papers.”
Those words hit me like a one-two sucker punch to the gut. Which is stupid. This was supposed to be fake all along. I was supposed to set him up with Evie. That was the plan.
Don’t you fucking dare. He’s not a pair of earrings to lend out for a hot date. He’s mine.
Or was. Is?
Fuck, why is this so confusing?
“Divorce?”
“We agreed. The part for you, and you got it. You don’t need me anymore.” He sidesteps me and heads for the door.
“Garrett, wait.” Locking my fingers around his wrist, I turn him to face me. “I don’t want you to be mad at me.”
“I’m not mad at you.” He softens the hard angles of his face.
