When I Was Theirs

50. Emmy

50

Emmy

I back away from him.

“Em.” He leans over the bar. And his face – I can see the apology there.

I’ve heard a lot of apologies in my life. I know when they’re genuine.

As it turns out, they’re the ones that hurt the most.

“Just… just forget it.” I’m breathing hard. Tears prickle at the back of my eyes, and I turn away so he can’t see. “Do your own thing tonight, Jared. I’ll get a cab home.”

“That’s what you want?” He stares at me. “I want to make this right, Em. I want to talk about this. Please.”

“We can talk.” I swipe my hand over my eyes. “But not tonight.”

I move back to the other end of the bar, swapping with Carla and avoiding any look in Jared’s direction. The false smile on my face comes easily enough.

I’ve had enough practice.

Toward the end of the night, the swarm finally begins to clear, and Carla sidles up to me with an apology in her eyes. “Your boy isn’t in great shape. I didn’t notice how many he’d had, it’s been so damn busy in here.”

That makes two of us .

I almost turn, before I stop myself. “It’s none of my business.”

A few minutes later, I briefly glance over as I move to grab the sweeping brush. Jared’s head is down on the bar, buried in his arms. An empty glass sits beside him.

My heart sinks. “Carla… you mind if I slip out early?”

She follows my gaze. “Sure, hon. You’ve done it for me enough times. I’ll call him a cab. Do you need one?”

“Thanks. I’ll grab one outside.” I pick up my bag and umbrella, quietly ducking under the bar flap. Jared doesn’t move. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The Uber picks me up at the end of the road. I watch out of the window as the town passes by. We drive along the street leading to Ben’s – Jared’s – apartment, and I drop my eyes.

God, I’m tired.

I’m so fucking tired.

Tired of trying.

Tired of giving out these little pieces of myself.

I have nothing left .

I know Jared didn’t mean it. Didn’t mean to hurt me with his own demons.

But he did, and it hurt more than anything Arron ever did to me.

What I felt for Arron is nothing compared to my emotions when it comes to Ben and Jared, and that only makes my chest ache more.

Ben isn’t here. And Jared is broken.

God, I wish Ben was here. I swallow around the lump of grief in my throat.

Jared is drowning, and I don’t know what to do to help him.

And I think I’m drowning too.

What do I do, Ben?

The Uber driver pulls away, not bothering to wait as I trudge toward my apartment. The broken security pad greets me as I push the door open and start making my way up the stairs.

Maybe I should move. I could probably afford it. The light from the bulb above my head flickers, more off than on as my shadow jumps, stretching across the stained gray walls. The low buzz of a reality show echoes in the air from the second floor.

I’ll start looking tomorrow.

Maybe I should spend some time thinking of myself, instead of filling my time with work so I don’t have to think at all.

I take a deep breath.

Trying not to think of a dark-haired boy, sleeping on his arms alone in a bar.

If Jared wants to work this out, he knows where I am.

I’m putting myself first, for once.

And I want a shower and my bed.

Kicking off my shoes, I pad to the fridge and pull it open. Nothing but an open, curled-up packet of turkey, a few squishy tomatoes and an old jar of olives greet me. Grimacing, I avoid eye contact with whatever the green item in the corner used to be.

I really need to go food shopping.

After placing an order from a late-night pizza delivery place, I stand under the shower, letting the hot water run down my back as I lift my face to the spray and close my eyes.

He didn’t believe me.

And Arron… Arron was here . A few feet away from me.

My hands start to shake as I scrub at my hair. My face. My arms.

He’s gone.

He’s gone.

My Lia.

I can hear it, hear the way he used to say it, with a slight curl to his lip.

Heat turns to cold, my skin pebbling despite the heat of the shower. I suddenly feel too exposed with the open door at my back.

I slap my hand against the wall to turn the shower off despite the suds still in my hair, darting out and wrapping a towel around my body.

Running a second one over my hair as I step out into the bedroom, I pause, turning to look around. My skin feels itchy, prickly.

As if I’m being watched.

The curtains are closed. The door locked.

You’re being ridiculous, Emmy.

Huddling under a soft green blanket, I curl my legs under me on the couch and start flipping through channels, searching for something mind-numbing.

When I get to the end, I start again.

I nearly throw the remote into the screen at the rat-a-tat-tat on my door. Jerking upright, I hold my hand against my racing heart. It thuds against my palm. “Who is it?”

Maybe—

“Pizza delivery?”

Deflating, I scramble up.

My hand pauses as I reach for the doorknob. “Just leave it on the mat! I’ll… tip through the app.”

“Sure. Have a good night.”

Wincing, I wait for a few minutes. Until my stomach growls.

Yanking the door open, I reach for the box.

Pause.

My eyes travel upward.

From the sleek, black leather shoes, to the familiar white shirt. His favorite brand.

Further. Pale blue eyes watch me steadily. There’s nothing human in them.

Not anymore. Not for me.

Arron smiles at me, holding the pizza box in his hand.

“Hello, wife. We need to talk.”