The Lover's Game(45)

She shrugged, unconvinced. “If you say so.”

I glowered at her as I began to massage my temples to get rid of the pounding behind them. It wasn’t like me to be rude, but Sylvie didn’t see how much I wanted to be alone in the dark abyss of my mind so that I could ignore the annoying agony in my chest.

“Maybe you moved in with him too soon,” she murmured, oblivious to my reluctance to talk.

For a second, I was taken aback, and my head snapped in her direction. “What do you mean?” I asked, shocked. I had feared the same thing, but I had discarded it. To hear my hidden fear coming from her mouth was daunting.

“Think, Brooke. You did everything he wanted. You moved in with him. You worked for him. You always played by his rules.” She counted more reasons, but I stopped listening.

The blood in my ears rushed faster, drowning out everything else.

Was it possible that Jett and I had spent too much time together and our relationship fell into a routine, where he felt he didn’t have to chase me anymore because he already had me?

My heart lurched at the thought that our relationship had become too boring for Jett. It certainly made sense and explained why he had wanted me to dress up as someone he had never met before. I wasn’t a prude when it came to spicing up one’s love life and role-playing could be a part of that, but so early in a relationship?

I buried my face in my hands, letting my shoulders drop. “I’m so fucking stupid. I should have moved out as soon as Nate was arrested. Better yet, I never should have moved in with him in the first place.”

“It’s just a theory, Brooke. I’m not saying it’s true. I’m just pleading with you to open your eyes and see him the way I do, rather than loving him for what he appears to be.”

It made sense. I had given too much too soon. Sylvie was right. The possibility existed that my obsession with Jett was not only stupid, but in vain, too.

“You’ve made your point, loud and clear. Now, can you please shut up and leave me alone?” I walked back into the bathroom and slammed the door shut before sinking to the floor, feeling number from the cold than ever before.





A soft knock carried over from the door.

“Brooke?” Sylvie’s voice was filled with worry. A second later, her head appeared in the doorway, and I looked up.

“Yeah?”

“I made us coffee. Are you coming?”

On the heels of anger came acceptance. There was no point in evading her.

Sighing, I stood and walked back into the kitchen and sat down at the table. Sylvie slumped into the seat opposite me and pulled her knees up to her chest, regarding me.

“I want my things back before I go to work,” I said, her gaze unnerving me.

“Fine.”

For a long moment, Sylvie just stared at me, the oppressing silence heavy with words unspoken. Each passing second frayed my nerves. The way she just sat there, with her arms crossed over her chest and her lips pressed in a tight line, she looked scarier than a scolding schoolteacher. For an awful moment, I feared she might resume her lecture on obsession. The skin on my face prickled. Without intending to, I brushed a hand over my mouth, realizing I had been stroking my abdomen for the past few minutes, the gesture both protective and indicative of my frightening isolation.

Finally, Sylvie sighed and leaned back in her seat, the tension between us slowly dissipating as she watched my movement. “Can you feel the baby?”

“Not yet.” I shook my head, relaxing a little, happy for the change in topic. “It will be a while before it starts kicking, but I do feel different. I feel like part of J—” I bit my lip, stopping myself from saying the one thing that kept burning inside my mind. “I feel like something else is inside me.”

Sylvie regarded me intently, her expression hardening again, but she didn’t probe.

Dammit.

Not only was I under his spell, but I was also having a hard time controlling what came out of my mouth around Sylvie. No wonder she thought I was in desperate need of an LAA session. After admitting that I still loved him and now proclaiming that he had become a part of me through our unborn child, it was as if I still harbored the slightest hope we would end up together...even though I knew I was kidding myself.

Ending together was impossible. I had broken things off, and he had left me. We were over, even if I couldn’t believe it yet.

“I have something for you.” She retrieved a yellow envelope from one of the drawers and pushed it into my hands. “I meant to give it to you in a few weeks, but I thought why wait that long?” She shrugged, as though it wasn’t a big deal. “I thought we might attend...together.”