Again.
Fuck.
“But then you met Adele,” Chloe says evenly.
Leo lets out a very audible breath. “Yes.”
“Where’s Adele now? Why did you break things off?”
“Is that really important?” Leo asks. “I want you back, baby, and I’m prepared to get on my hands and knees to beg you if that’s what it takes. I miss you.”
“You did notice there’s someone here with me, right?”
“Is he your boyfriend?”
“No, not exactly.”
The truth has never made me want to throw up as much as it does right now.
“Then I don’t see the problem.”
“The problem is I can’t trust you. Among other things.”
That’s my girl. She can trust me all the way to Mars and back.
“You can,” Leo whines. “The thing with Adele was just a blip in our relationship and I promise you it won’t ever happen again.”
There’s some shuffling—of feet, I think. Maybe the brushing of a couch cushion.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Leo asks.
“She broke up with you, didn’t she?” Chloe asserts.
He doesn’t answer.
“Oh my God. She did. She dumped you and so you come running back to me, thinking I’ll take you back? Well guess what? That is never going to happen. I don’t want you. I don’t want anything to do with you. Adele did me a favor. I didn’t see it then, but I do now. I’m too good for you, so you can take your apology—wait a second, you didn’t even say you were sorry—you can take your pathetic ass out the door and please don’t come back.”
“Chlo—”
“It’s over, Leo.”
I punch my fist in the air in victory. Although, victory isn’t really the appropriate word. I’m happy as hell Chloe didn’t overlook what her ex did, but the win is bittersweet. I have no idea what it’s like to be in either one of their shoes, but I know the woman who’s managed to snare my heart and while she handled the faceoff with Leo like a champ; she’s no doubt hurting inside. No one likes to be reminded of betrayal.
The sound of the front door scraping open reaches my ears. “Goodbye,” Chloe says.
“I’ll call you—”
“No.” It’s the most unshakable “no” I’ve ever heard.
I can’t stay hidden any longer. I walk down the hall and catch Leo leaving with his tail between his legs. Chloe shuts the door with a resounding thud.
I’m there when she turns around. I give her a second to catch her breath before I’ve got her pinned against the door, my mouth on hers. It’s not our usual kind of kiss. She parts her lips almost begrudgingly when my tongue darts out for more. In the back of my mind, I think about stopping. Instead, I kiss her harder, asserting some primal masculine urge to claim her as mine without words.
She lashes her tongue against mine in retaliation. Her nails dig into my back. The kiss is punishing, yet satisfying. I’m happy to take her frustrations, her pain, her anger, and swallow them. I may not know much about being a boyfriend, but I’m a damn good teammate, and Webster is my team captain.
I have no idea how long we duel—it could be seconds, it could be minutes. Chloe backs off first. Her lips are gorgeously swollen, her cheeks flushed. She steps around me. “We should get going,” she says. In the same tone she might say, “Pick up your socks, would you?”
The drive to the airport passes in relative silence. It’s not exactly awkward, more like reserved, which for the record, feels just as shitty. We’ve never held back from each other.