I flinched, my mouth falling open. I almost looked down at my chest because I was 99.9 percent sure there would be a handle to a knife sticking out of it.
“I’m not confused.” I shook my head, my words more breath than sound.
“Kat . . .”
“I’m not confusing love with lust. This isn’t something that just happened. I love you. I’m in love with you, I—”
I stopped myself from saying more because he was shaking his head slowly, stubbornly, his eyes on the carpet. “We’ll talk about it later.”
A stinging swelling ballooned in my chest, clogging my throat, infecting my nose and eyes as I stared at him. A little voice insisted quietly, Why are you pushing this? You’ll still love him tonight, tomorrow, and the day after. Tell him later. Talk about it later. Convince him later.
But I quickly silenced that voice, speaking my thoughts without thinking, “You want me to convince you? Is that it?”
Dan closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead. “This is gratitude. What you’re feeling right now is gratitude. It’ll pass.” His hand dropped, his eyes opened and crashed into mine. “It’s too soon, too early for this kind of stuff.”
Once more my mouth fell open. Once more I was gaping at him. Once more I spoke my thoughts as they occurred to me. “You don’t . . . you don’t.” You don’t love me.
Oh God.
The pain.
“You told me to trust you. You said—you said—”
The pain was sudden and unbearable. The knife in my chest tugged downward, pulling my heart with it until both lay on the floor at his feet.
And do you know what he did?
He laughed.
He huffed a little laugh, this time sounding mildly amused, like I was cute. “Kat—”
I saw red.
How dare he laugh.
How fucking dare he!
Unthinkingly, I picked up the nearest object on my desk—I had no idea what, maybe a stapler—and threw it at him. It went wide, missing him by a mile, but it got his attention.
His eyes bulged, he was no longer laughing. “What the hell?”
“Get out.” My voice was firm and I meant it. I didn’t want to see him.
Looking shocked as hell, he took a step forward, his hand extended like he wanted me to calm down. And that just pissed me off more.
Grabbing objects indiscriminately, I lobbed them at him, eventually reaching for my shoes, coming around the desk to get a better aim and punctuating each item with a loud, “Get. Out. Get. Out. Get. Out!”
“Stop it, what the fuck, Kat? Stop throwing shit at me and listen!” He didn’t get out. Instead, he dodged my missiles and moved closer.
When he was very close, I hesitated. I wanted him to leave, but I didn’t want to hit him in the head. So I aimed for his chest, catching him in the stomach at close range with some kind of plaque or award of my father’s.
Out of ammunition, I turned away to avoid him, but he was strong and fast and, as usual, motivated.
His arms came around me from behind and he pulled me against his chest. I stiffened, closing my eyes and promising myself I wouldn’t cry.
“Hey, hey. Calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down.” I thought about elbowing him in the ribs. I dismissed the idea, knowing he might still be sore.
“Okay, okay.” His voice was soft. Carefully soft.
It pissed me off.
“Don’t use that voice with me.”
“What voice?”
“The you-think-I’m-a-crazy-person voice.”
He faltered for a second, then growled in my ear, “Well what the fuck kind of voice do I use when you keep throwing office supplies at my head?”
“This voice is fine. Use this voice.”
“This is my angry voice.”
“Well, this is my angry voice, so I guess they match!”
I heard and felt a low growl vibrate against my back. I felt his exasperated exhale against my neck, before he said, “Can we just—can’t we talk about this later? When we’ve both cooled off?”
“No.” The rage was quickly becoming cold resolve. It slid over me much like my heart had slid to the floor, except this didn’t hurt. It didn’t feel good, but it felt safe.
I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was gritting his teeth and rolling his eyes.
“Kat, you can’t—”
“Fuck off, Dan.”
I felt him flinch, his grip on me loosen, and I seized the opportunity.
Stepping out of his grip, I swiped my underwear from where it was hanging out like a porno pocket square, and searched for my shoes. Finding them on the other side of the conference table, I slipped them on, and moved to the door.
But before I could get it open, he was there, behind me, his big hand holding it closed.