“Do you hear yourself right now?”
“Yes or no, Lo. It’s really not that hard.”
I throw my hands in the air. “I don’t know!”
“It’s a simple question.”
“It doesn’t have a simple answer.”
“Bullshit. You’re just afraid to answer. You’re afraid of what it means if you like kissing Gabe, if you want to fuck him.”
“Is that what you want me to say?”
“I just want you to be honest.”
“Fine, then how’s this for honesty? I was heartbroken when I found out you were leaving. I love you, Mace, but yes, I liked kissing Gabe. When I kiss him, I want more. I always have. So yeah, I’m probably always going to look at my best friend and wonder what might’ve been, but that has no bearing on right now. It has nothing to do with us.”
“It has everything to do with us because I can’t fuckin’ compete with him! I never stood a fucking chance.”
“You might have, but I guess we’ll never know if you plan on leaving.”
“No, I guess we never will.” He pulls me in and kisses my forehead and then he grabs his keys and leaves, quietly closing the door behind him.
Somehow that’s so much worse than if he’d slammed it. I break down, staring at the door, waiting for him to walk back through it and tell me he was wrong, that breaking up with me on my birthday is some kind of joke, but it’s not and he doesn’t, and I spend the next several hours on my living room floor wondering how I’m supposed to put the pieces of my broken heart back together.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Lo
Sometime around midnight, I crawl to the coffee table and open the velvet box Gabe left before he stalked out. A pale green hexagon-cut stone twinkles back at me. I gasp and cover my mouth. With its worn rose gold bow motifs on either side and its vintage feel, it doesn’t look like an engagement ring, but common sense—and the fact that it’s clearly five carats or more with brilliant clarity—means this isn’t some cheap piece of costume jewelry.
I pull it from the box and slide it on my ring finger—yep, that ring finger. The green stone catches the light and I sigh at how gorgeous andmeit is. I slip it from my ring finger, but I can’t bear to put it back in the box. Instead, I place it on my right hand, and then I get up and throw on my jacket, and swipe my phone from the coffee table. I stagger to the door, wiping my nose on my sleeve. I know the shop is already closed for business, and I need to talk to Gabe. I need to know if he’d done all of this deliberately to mess with me and Mace. I need to know it wasn’t intentional.
All the lights in the shop are off, but I see the glow of the low lamps he uses in the apartment upstairs. I bang on the door, sniffing back tears. “Gabe! Get out here now, you bastard.”
A beat later, his long strides are eating up the distance to the shop door. He opens it, and stares down at me. “Hey. You okay?”
“Do I look okay?”
“You look like shit.”
I push into the shop and head upstairs to his apartment. In the kitchen, I help myself to the liquor cabinet, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. My hands shake as I pour myselfa glass and lift it to my lips. I swallow back the liquid, wincing as it burns my empty stomach, and immediately pour another.
“What happened with Mace?”
“What do you think?” I slump onto the futon and empty the contents of my glass.
“That good, huh?” Gabe pours himself a drink and sits beside me.
“Did you expect something different? He accused me of being in love with you.”
Gabe stills, his glass of whiskey halfway to his mouth. “What?”
“He said he knew he never stood a chance, because I’ve been in love with you since the day we met.”
“Why would he say that?”
“I don’t know, Gabe. Maybe because you had your tongue shoved down my throat, and I liked it. Worst still, I wanted more.”