I pushed the key into the lock and let myself in, welcoming the faint smell of my former home and the silence that seemed to penetrate every wall. Sylvie’s designer handbag, coat, and heels were gone, meaning she was out, probably working late or on a date. Dropping my handbag on the old coffee table in the hall, I kicked off my shoes, and headed into the kitchen to make myself a sandwich. I ate slowly, taking measured bites, then slumped onto the bed in my room. My body felt exhausted, but I was unable to close my eyes and rest because of the racing thoughts in my mind.
Eventually, I couldn’t bear the mental torture anymore. I had to check if the legal firm had called back, so I switched on my cell phone, ignoring the hammering in my chest at the thought that Jett might have tried to contact me. I was afraid of his next lie, afraid that hearing his voice or even reading his texts might catapult me back onto dangerous terrain, where each word was like a double-sided blade: beautiful to look at but too dangerous to come close to.
The screen came to life and sure enough, text messages and call notifications began to pop up one after another. My skin prickled as my fingers swiped over the message button.
Crap.
Two text messages and eight calls. And all were from Jett.
Still no reply from the legal firm. But it was a weekend, so I wasn’t particularly surprised. Sinking back against the cushions, I stared at Jett’s name, a part of me wondering what he had to say while a different part of me wished I could just tell him to go to hell. While it wasn’t like me to seek confrontation, the silence suffocated me. With a sigh, I unclasped the necklace from around my neck and locked it inside a drawer—the action making me feel better already, as though I was finally taking my fate into my own hands. Yet sadness continued to linger inside my heart. As the seconds turned to minutes, my indecision tugged at me, until I couldn’t bear it any longer. I had to read his messages. At least one. Without hesitation, almost automatically, I opened the first text message.
Baby, I’m done at work and will be back at the hotel in 10 min. Can’t wait to see you.
He sounded so innocent, it was ridiculous. Be back at the hotel? He had been there all along. What a liar!
Staring at the screen, I checked the timestamp, my hands gripping the phone so hard I feared it would break. The message had been sent half an hour after Thalia had picked me up, which meant Jett had probably spent the entire day with Tiffany—plenty of time for them to have a little fun in their private hotel room, probably laughing at my stupidity.
I smiled bitterly as I scanned the next message, sent an hour after the first.
Have you forgotten our date? WHERE are you? Let me know so I can pick you up.
My pulse raced at the obvious annoyance seeping from between the lines. Who the hell did he think he was? Did he really believe I would wait for him in a room all day while he enjoyed himself with someone else? Slowly, all the conflicting emotions that had been building up throughout the day erupted at once. The cold breeze turned into a raging storm. Not only was he a cheater and a liar; he was also trying to make me feel bad about not obeying his commands. The thought that he sought control over me made me so angry, I grabbed my pillow and threw it against the wall.
Forgotten our date? As if. For once, I wished that had been the case. Before I realized what I was doing, my fingers quickly typed up a reply message.
I want you to fuck off and get out of my life. I trusted your word, and you betrayed me. Don’t deny it. I saw you with her. How could you hurt me like that?
My fingers lingered over the send button, hesitating. It would be the only message Jett would receive before I blocked his number forever. What was holding me back from sending it? In the end, I realized as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t yet ready to admit to him the extent of my hurt feelings. Besides, what would be the point of letting him known how hurt I was? Or telling him I saw him with her? He’d only deny it and then he’d probably start calling, attempting to sway me over, and that I couldn’t afford. Or, worst-case scenario, Jett would shrug it all off with no care that he had hurt me, telling me it was his right to kiss whoever he wanted.
My stomach did a flip. That would really be the tip of the iceberg. We weren’t married; I had no claim on him. But even though I could admit that to myself, I knew I wouldn’t be able to hear those words coming from his mouth. Ultimately, I pressed delete in the hope that my refusal to talk to him and listen to any more lies would grant me the energy to stay strong and move on. I figured, as long as I didn’t hear his voice or see him in person, the list of arguments I had put together would help me stay out of his path. And maybe, in time, my feelings for him would fade away. Come to think of it, now would be a good time to have Sylvie close by. But until she got back—