Page 25 of The Wrong Side Of Us

Thread by thread, stitch by stitch, my mended heart began to shatter, and all the pieces fell apart.

I should have never trusted him.

Should have never let him in.

And still, even with what I had been through, I decided that loving him was the right choice.

You deserve this for being so naive.

After a while of just staring off, my phone buzzed, getting my attention and bringing me out of my pained haze. I looked down, reading the words that would have made me very happy before.

Nathan: On my way home, baby.

Standing up, I wiped my away my tears, refusing to let him see me cry.

Not again.

***

I sat on the sofa, waiting patiently, tapping my foot on the floor while Nathan arrived. This part was easy; keeping it together in front of him would be the difficult part. Though the sadness was still there, now anger was starting to overshadow it.

I was angry at Nathan for lying to me, for being such a good damn actor to fool me into thinking that he was in love with me.

Faithful.

I scoffed at the thought of the word.

More than anything, though, I was angry at myself. Only someone as stupid as me could constantly get burned. There had to be something wrong with me for this to keep happening.

I heard the doorknob turn, and my heart stilled for that moment; for those few seconds, the last hours replayed in my mind. It took all my courage and strength to not feel anything, to not let the thoughts overwhelm me.

Stay strong.

He stepped foot into the condo and smiled when he saw me. Nathan held a bouquet of roses in his hands, extending them over to me.

“Surprise roses usually mean you’re apologizing for something,” I said, very matter of fact. He chuckled walking over to me on the couch. He placed a kiss on my forehead, lingering there for a moment and setting the roses on my lap.

“How did it go?” I asked, trying my best to keep his lips away from my own.

He knew me too well.

A single finger tilted my chin up.

“Have you been crying?” he asked, stroking right underneath my eye with his thumb. “Your eyes are swollen and red.”

“Allergies,” I breathed, afraid of speaking louder.

“You don’t have allergies.”

Allergic to your bullshit.

I cleared my throat, standing up and setting the roses on the sofa. “I ordered pizza. It’s on the table.”

He stopped me, taking hold of my arm. “What’s wrong, Evie?”

“Are you going to tell me how it really went?” I hissed, narrowing my eyes at him.

Nathan frowned, his lips pressing together. Clearly, it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. Why was I even trying to get him to confess?

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