“We’re not compatible,” he said flatly, cutting me off.
“That’s bullshit,” I replied, anxiety making my voice falter. “That’s not a real thing. When you make a commitment, you figure it out. You find a way to move past the hard parts.”
“I don’t want the hard parts,” he said flatly. “Life’s too fucking short.”
“Then we’ll talk it out,” I stuttered. “We’ll make it so it’s not hard.”
“You’re condescending,” he said, in frustration. “You think you’re better than everyone. You talk to me like I’m less than you.”
“I don’t think you’re less than me,” I said in horror, my eyes starting to water.
“You give me the cold shoulder when you’re pissed. And if I say anything about it, you won’t touch me for a week.” He scoffed. “I told you not to use sex as a weapon, and sure as shit, you cut me off when you’re pissed about something.”
“That’s not even a thing,” I ground out, my cheeks growing hot. “That’s a myth perpetuated by men. Women like to be taken care of outside of bed and if that doesn’t happen, they’re not interested in climbing into bed.”
“Spin it however you want,” he said derisively. “I told you not to do that shit and you did it, anyway. I’m done.”
“That’s not even how it was,” I argued, frustration making my voice quiver.
“You’re mean,” he said flatly. “You’re a mean person.”
“Please,” I said, hating myself for the pleading tone of my voice. I wasn’t mean, was I? Sarcastic, yes. But mean? I swallowed hard. “Please, if you love me, then we can work this out.”
“There’s nothing to work out,” he replied. He stuffed his hands into his pockets.
“I thought we would get married,” I whispered pathetically.
“You actually think you deserve a proposal?” he asked incredulously, the words so awful and shocking that I took an involuntary step backward.
“Then don’t say that you love me. Stop saying it,” I said as he turned away, my voice breaking. “Because you don’t.”
“Don’t tell me how I feel,” he snapped back, not even bothering to look at me. “And I’ll say whatever the fuck I want.”
It would’ve been easier if he’d slammed the door behind him when he left. I could’ve pretended that he would cool down and come back later. The quiet snick of the door latch was infinitely worse. It said that he was totally calm, and thoroughly finished.
A slightly hysterical laugh shot out of my mouth and I slapped my hand over my lips. What the hell had just happened? What in the actual fuck?
Jesus, I’d thought I was going to marry him.
I gasped for air as the full reality of the situation hit me. He was gone. He left and I knew, deep in my gut, that he wouldn’t be back. Bracing my hands on the counter, I struggled to take a deep breath.
I’d never be able to touch him again. I’d never wake up to find him beside me. I’d never get a secret smile across the room, like an inside joke that only we knew. I’d never cook his favorite meals or hear about his day. He’d never again whisper that he loved me and kiss me goodbye before leaving for work.
I closed my eyes as my entire chest tightened. Oh, God, I’d thought I was going to marry him and he didn’t even like me.
I let the tears roll down my cheeks and plop against the counter as I called myself every kind of idiot. Once again, I’d believed in a promise from someone that didn’t deserve my trust, and once again, I’d been burned.
I’d known it wasn’t a good idea to get involved. I’d known that I was going to get my heart broken, again, but I’d jumped in with both feet, anyway. I couldn’t seem to give up on the elusive happily ever after. It always felt right out of my reach.
I pushed off the counter and wiped my hands down my face. I wasn’t going to fall apart. I wouldn’t let myself. At least not in the middle of the kitchen.
Grabbing the clothes I’d left sitting on a chair when Copper dropped his bomb, I headed toward the bathroom for a shower. Leave it to me to get dumped on the day of my only niece’s birthday party.
* * *
“What do you mean, he dumped you?” my cousin Lily hissed later that day as she helped me fill water balloons.
“He said he was done,” I replied, barely glancing at her as I continued what I was doing. “And then he left.”
“Oh, my God,” she said indignantly. “What an asshole.”
“It is what it is,” I mumbled, secretly thankful for her support.
“He’ll come back with his tail between his legs, just like they all do,” she said, handing me another bunch of balloons. Then a few seconds later, “Do you want him to come back?”