Page 54 of Before I Let Go

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“I’m sorry if I startled you,” I continue, not wanting to appear rattled. “Kassim left his remote thingy…um…for the science fair, I mean project. Assignment. It’s an assignment, not a fair. Or a project. And so…he called and I came because Josiah isn’t here. So…yeah.”

Well, that was composed. Not rattled at all.

“Right.” Vashti nods slowly, her eyes never leaving my face. “Look, I know this is kind of awkward.”

“What? Noooooo.” I laugh, scoff even. “Why would it be awkward?”

“Because I’m the first person Josiah’s dated since the divorce?”

I hate how gentle her voice is, like I need to be handled with care. Like I’m fragile when she has no idea what I can endure, what I’ve survived. What I’m capable of.

What I’ve lost.

The expression on her face is so damn soft, so sympathetic, like this is fuckingFamily Feudand I just got three strikes. Like I’m watching from the wings while she’s out there with Steve Harvey playing for a Lincoln Town Car and a trip to Hawaii.

“It’s not awkward at all.” The habit of lying returns to me easily and just in time. “Vashti, really. I’m happy Josiah found someone so great. And someone the kids love.”

“I’m sure he’s told you that we’ve talked about the work dynamic, and if you’re worried about it affecting things at the restaurant—”

“I’m not. You’re both mature adults, and I know Josiah would never do anything to jeopardize the business.”

“Neither would I. If something gets weird, we end it, but I’m just glad right now everything’s going so well. You know firsthand how amazing Josiah is.”

“Yeah, he’s great,” I whisper, clutching the remote to my chest like a breastplate in battle. “Well, I better get this to Kassim.”

I walk toward the door, but she doesn’t move right away, so I have to stand there, smelling him on her. Subjected to his cologne mixing with whatever perfume she favors. A fist tightens around my traitor heart. I’m close enough to see his initials on the cuffs that hang loose past one of her hands. These tiny intimacies feel like treasures she stole from me, but no. I gave them away, and it hits me like a ton of bricks that I have no rightful claim to any of the emotions whirling inside of me. I forfeited my right to be indignant or jealous or resentful. The only feeling I’m entitled to is this hollowness occupying the pit of my belly, yawing in my chest.

It feels likemywalk of shame as I brush past her and down the hall, averting my eyes so I don’t spot a hickey on her neck or further evidence of their night together. The Josiah I remember, before our marriage became an icebox, was one second aggressive, the next tender. He knew when to be gentle, and when to be rough. He used to say he could look into my eyes and know how I wanted it.

What did Vashti’s eyes tell him last night?

“I’ll let Josiah know you came by,” she says, following me to the door.

“I left him a voice mail, but thanks.” I don’t wait for her response and call out over my shoulder. “Bye!”

I force myself to walk at a leisurely pace to the driveway. I start the car and pull out, careful not to hit any trash cans or mailboxes as I go. I don’t know how I get onto the interstate, but I manage to take the correct exit for Harrington. After I’ve dropped off the remote at the front desk, I text Kassim to make sure he knows it should be there, and I turn out of the school parking lot. My phone ringing through the car’s system startles me so badly I almost run a light.

Josiah’s name appears on the display.

I inhale and exhale once deeply before answering.

“Hey!” I bend the word to my will, shaping it into a cheerful thing. “How are you?”

“Good. Just leaving the gym. Sorry I missed your call. I got your message about Kassim’s remote. I can grab it and take it to him.”

“No need. I swung by the house and used my key. I actually just dropped it off to him at school, so all’s well.”

His pause blares in the quiet as the implications of my words no doubt sink in.

“You went tomyhouse?” he asks, cautious, as if there is still a way I may not know he’s fucking his new girlfriend.

“I did.” My press-play chuckle sounds like a sitcom laugh track, tinny and forced and on cue. “I hope I didn’t scare poor Vashti too bad.”

“So she was still there when you—”

“Yup.” I clip the word, snipping any telling emotion from it. “Look, I’ve gotta go because I need to turn in these projections for the block party.”

“Oh, yeah. Do you need any—”


Tags: Kennedy Ryan Romance