Oh my god. Why would anyone want to cheat on him? I mean look at him. Why would she want to hurt him?

I shake my head as if I can’t believe it. I don’t want her to be the one.

Is she the reason he’s the way he is? Why he keeps women at arm’s length, and it’s just sex and fun? Did having his first love savagely rip his heart open make him unable to trust women in his life? Keeping them all at a distance, the way I do with everyone else.

“Why did you start seeing her again?” It’s out before I can stop it.

Do I want to hear him tell me how he’s never got over her? No, I don’t.

He shrugs and gazes at me intensely.

“It’s complicated.”

When is it ever not?

“Stop saying that,” I wail, instantly on my feet and I’m angry.

Why?

Because he’s my Jake. Not hers. I want him to want me, and only me; I know it’s never going to be that way and it ruins every part of me. Rages and burns that once, long ago she had exactly that and she threw it all away. She was a complete idiot!

“Emma … What do you want me to say?” he moves to me, and pushes me back to sit down, so he’s standing over me.

“You think I planned any of this shit?” he looks broken, eyes damp and face unreadable, yet somehow sad.

“Do you love her?” I ask of him, complete fear gripping me inside and I almost sob it out in desperation.

Please don’t cry. Not here. Not now. Not in front

I can’t read it. I’m scared of his answer, so

don’t want to know.” He grasps my hands and

pleads, his body trying to cage me in against him, but I

think? …

need to go.” I shove him away, lost in teen

with his baby. She’s the first love of his life. She’s the reason he avoids relationships. What am I supposed to think? She’s the reason I’ll never have a

… space … Jake … I need space.” I gulp down tears and panic, and finally throw his hands off me. He lets me go and moves back rejected, he’s letting me leave, but I don’t

I go into automatic pilot. I stalk toward the door, pulling up my hood, and don’t look back, knowing that walking out

* * *

may actually die this time. If my lungs don’t self-implode, I think my heart might. The pain

I may even throw up; this isn’t my life … My life is calm and easy and straightforward. My job, my apartment, my responsibilities. They all slot into place and I manage them all well. This isn’t really happening. I’m in a parallel universe, or I’m dreaming. I’ll wake at any minute and this

this how we

* * *

how long I’ve been, but I’m calm, and my tears have dried on their own, my face tight and swollen, but I don’t care anymore. I’ve been through so many emotions these past weeks; I think I’m slowly losing my

two hours according to the wall clock ticking loudly in the modern suite. There’s a light under Jake’s bedroom door. It halts

desolate, alone on one side, and Jake on the other side of

even if he actually wanted to try. I’m afraid of what that means, what that will feel like; too much has happened. Even if he told me he wanted me and only me, then how would that work? I don’t see how this could get any better, it’s better if

Can he? Can I

my job, and I do. I love working with him, I love being his right hand, but surely that in itself is half the problem. We crossed the line and now I’ll never be able to just be what I was.

I love him. – I think I already knew that

bed, beside mine. I guess he tried to call me and

to talk.” His voice is steady and deep, hoarse from tiredness as my inner confidence slides silently from deep within and makes

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