Down London Road (On Dublin Street #2)(106)

I guess that's the problem when you really get to know someone. You learn all their triggers and emotional buttons, and unfortunately, in times of war, you press them. The button Cam pressed had direct access to my tear ducts, and salt water spilled down my cheeks in anguished silence. I took a step away from him, feeling sick. I ignored his remorseful expression, concentrating on those ugly words and what they meant.

They meant he had never stopped thinking of me as a shallow gold-digger. He'd never believed that I could be more than that. Not really. Did that mean he'd never meant anything he'd said to me?

The pain wouldn't allow the silence to hold and I lost control of a sob.

'Fuck, Jo.' He swore hoarsely, trying to reach for me. 'I didn't  – '

'Don't touch me.' I ripped my phone out of his hands and seized my purse.

'Jo, I didn't mean it.' He grabbed my arm. 'I was just  – ' 

'Let go!' I screamed in his face, wrenching myself away from him, frightened that if I let him touch me I'd give in to him as I always did. I sagged with grief as I backed away.

'I didn't mean it.' His eyes were bright with a panic I couldn't quite process.

'What are we doing?' I shook my head. 'Is this worth it? Is it worth the way I've been feeling the last few weeks? I feel raw all the time, like my heart has been laid out on a butcher's block and you're hammering away at it. I thought it was me. I didn't feel smart or interesting enough for you. I kept thinking, "Any minute now he's going to wake up and wonder what the fuck he's doing with me." '

Cam sucked in a breath. 'No  – '

'I thought it was me,' I repeated. 'That my insecurities were the problem. Not you and Blair. But then last night, you hanging out with her  …  not telling me, not talking to me about it, expecting that I would be okay with it? And maybe not telling you about Malcolm wasn't right either. But none of that really matters in the face of this.' I wiped a hand down my cheek, trying to clear the stream of tears. But as I began to speak again, more poured out. 'You said you wanted me to see that there was so much more to me than even I realized. No one had ever told me I was smart or talented or brave, or that I deserved more than what I'd asked for. Until you. And it turns out you never really believed that. You always believed that deep down I'm just this shallow girl that would fuck her way to a gold mine.'

'No,' he argued, taking hold of my arms to shake me. 'I was just pissed off. It came out wrong. I didn't mean it.' He tried to pull me into a hug, but I struggled against him. 'Baby, stop, just stop. I can't  – '

I pushed at him and shoved at him until he let me go, and I glared into his face with every shred of my tattered self-respect. 'You said it. It means it's in there somewhere.' And then I threw out, 'And I saw the way you reacted to Ryan.'

As he dragged a hand through his hair, Cam's expression changed from remorse to agitation. 'Well, he is the kind of stupid prick you'd go for.'

I shook my head in disbelief. 'You really think that after everything between us, he's the kind of guy I'd go for?'

'You really think that, after everything, I'd cheat on you with Blair?'

'You cheated on Becca with me.' I winced as soon as the words were out of my mouth. That was a low blow.

Cam huffed, looking at me incredulously. 'And you cheated on Malcolm with me.'

'Is that what you really think?' I repeated his words back at him. I felt more tears tremble on my lashes and I hated that he could reduce me to this snivelling mess. 'That I've been holding on to Malcolm in case this ends?'

He shrugged, his expression stony. 'Do you really think I've been waiting on someone better to come along? That I'm using you?'

I wiped my nose with the back of my hand and looked away, unable to stare into his eyes as I answered hoarsely, 'I think you never stopped seeing me as that girl. The one you didn't respect very much.'

'Then maybe you really aren't that smart after all.' His tone was cutting, horrible.

I didn't think anyone had sliced me as deep with their words as he had. And I hated that he had that kind of power over me.

He sighed and I finally looked at him, watching as he rubbed a hand down his face and turned away from me. In a weary voice he suggested, 'Maybe you better go before we say more ugly shit we don't mean.'



       
         
       
        

I didn't answer him in words.

I just left.





27


I had difficulty finding sleep that night. I finally drifted into unconsciousness in the wee hours of the morning and was awoken at ten thirty by the loud bing of a text notification on my phone.

It was from Uncle Mick, reminding me that I'd agreed to go flat hunting with him. That was fine. Probably better to keep my mind off my fight with Cameron anyway.