Page 122 of Corrupted Heart

I’m sorry, but I have to cancel for tonight

DarkHearted1

Are you joking?

BrokenBee

No. I’m sorry to have wasted your time, but I can’t do this

DarkHearted1

Because of your husband

I bark a bitter laugh aloud.

BrokenBee

Yes, plus many other reasons. Sorry again

He’s silent for a minute. Oh well. Hey, the app is anonymous.

DarkHearted1

I understand. No apology necessary. Listen, it’s late. Why don’t you let me offer you a ride home, or anywhere else you’d like. The town car is there anyway. It’s at your disposal.

Wow. My husband might be a selfish asshole. But when a random internet stranger who was prepared to chase me and fuck me offers me a free ride home after I cancel on him, I guess that’s a little bit of faith in humanity restored.

DarkHearted1

If it makes you more comfortable, you can have him drop you at a major intersection near your place rather than at your actual home.

Well, shit. And they say chivalry is dead.

I thank DarkHearted1 again and walk over to the car. The door is already open, so I slip in and close it. I say hi and give a little wave to the mustachioed driver with longish hair and sunglasses. He barely acknowledges me, just gives me a formal nod in the rearview mirror when I give him directions to the café around the corner from Kratos’ brownstone.

I blow air out through my lips as the car pulls away from the curb.

Okay, there’s a small chance I may have overreacted earlier. Yes, it was jarring to see that woman walk out looking like that, and basically telling me she’d just screwed him. But who knows? Maybe she’s just some petty ex-girlfriend or someone he rejected being shitty now that he’s married. Really, when I think about her again, she did look a lot older than him.

I groan as I drop my head back onto the headrest behind me. When the hell did I get like this? So trigger-happy with my emotions, and so impulsive, and so…jealous?

Of course, the answer is right there in front of me: it’s probably when I realized whatever this thing is with Kratos was way more than just a twisted, fucked-up game.

When I realized it wasn’t just that I wanted him to chase me. I wanted him to chase me.

As if on cue, my phone dings with a text.

Kratos

Where are you?

Me

Are you home? I’m on my way

I’m in the middle of typing “I met that woman when she was leaving our place. Can we talk about that?” when my phone dies.

Goddammit.

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