Rm w/a Vu(145)

“You need to leave,” I tell her through gritted teeth. “Now.”

“Gem?” Dom says from the doorway.

I ignore him as he enters the house after his phone call, instead holding Gemma’s gaze and refusing to back down. Eventually, she laughs lightly, trying to brush off what I walked in on as nothing. “Juliette,” she says in a light and airy voice. “We were just joking around. There was mistletoe…”

Greyston moves around her and stands next to me. “Baby, let me explain.”

I close my eyes and shake my head in response to him, then look at Gemma again. “I told you to get out. If you don’t leave on your own, I have no problem removing you by whatever force necessary.”

“What the hell happened in here?” Dom asks, finally making me aware of his presence.

“Maybe you should ask your fiancée,” I tell him, crossing my arms.

He must not need an explanation, because the way he groans tells me he’s figured it out on his own. “Jesus, Gem. Again? I can’t keep doing this with you. I’m done.”

This seems to sober Gemma, and she whips her face toward Dom before running to him. “Dom, babe. It’s not what you think. I’ve had too much to drink.” He shakes his head and opens the front door while she yanks on her jacket and boots and chases him into the cold, leaving Greyston and I alone.

Silence fills the room, the tension so thick not even a knife could cut through it. Greyston reaches for me, his fingers brushing my jawline as he tries to coax my eyes to his. There’s so much going through my head right now, and I’m not even sure where to begin or how to process everything. Greyston looks at me, his eyes trying to gauge my reaction to everything. His eyebrows furrow in frustration before he opens his mouth to speak.

But I turn tail and head back upstairs, needing a moment to myself.

Greyston refuses to let this happen, and he runs up the stairs after me, following me into the bedroom. “Juliette, please. Let me explain.”

I sigh heavily, shoving the sweater back in my suitcase, and I force a smile to my face. “There’s nothing to explain, Greyston.”

His fingers wrap around my upper arm, and he turns me to face him. “We need to talk about this.”

Anger I didn’t even know I was holding back surges forward, burning through my veins like lava.

The truth is, I’m hurt. In addition to being hurt, I’m also a little…confused. Oh, and pissed off. Let’s not forget that one. I’m not necessarily pissed off at Greyston, because he did push her away from him. Have I not had to deal with enough in the last couple months? I mean, really. First, all that shit with Ben, and now this? What next?

Wait…scratch that. I don’t think that tempting fate by asking that question is a good idea right now; I’ll deal with one life problem at a time, thank you very much.

I hate her. No, really; I fucking hate Gemma.

I’m not a person who generally doles out a lot of hate because it just wastes too much energy, and, honestly, life is just too damn short for it. Sure, I dislike people—Ben and Delilah, for example—but I don’t see the point in hating anyone. Or, I didn’t until I saw Gemma make a move on Greyston.

I thought how I felt when I first learned of their tryst was the most jealous I would ever feel, but when I watched Gemma kiss my boyfriend…well, let’s just say that was the twist that would keep the wound open for a while longer.

“What do you want me to say, Greyston? I told you so? I knew she was trouble from the minute I saw her with her arms around you?” I laugh, but it’s dry and without humor. “I let it go because you told me it was all history.”

“It is,” he assures me, and I believe him—I do.

“Not for her.”

“But it is for me, and that’s all that should matter.” He pushes his fingers roughly through his cropped hair. “She kissed me. I pushed her away the second her lips touched mine.”

Bile and alcohol roll in my stomach from imagining Gemma with her lips on Greyston’s. I close my eyes and count to ten.

“What are you thinking about?” Greyston asks, his voice nervous and unsteady.

I open my eyes to find him leaning against the dresser, eyes on me, brows pulled up and in. I can see how sorry he is, but my anger refuses to be appeased by that.

“I hate that I dismissed my gut feelings about her. But I told myself it was just my experience with Ben and Delilah that made me anxious about her hanging around so much.”

Greyston sighs. “I know.” He drops his gaze to his feet. “And you were right to not trust her. I should’ve seen it.”