Page 78 of Synced to Us

I separate from him, using my own arms for warmth instead. His arm hangs in the air where I once was, before he lowers it in confusion. “Dee?”

“I—I can’t do this.”

Wyn steps forward, but halts when I retreat from him. “I know it was bad in there. But it’s completely unfair. You can contest it.”

“But I still did it.” I swallow, staring unfocused at the street. “I was still that girl.”

“None of that matters. Look at you now. Who you’ve become.”

“That’s the problem. I wouldn’t have turned into the woman I’m now without the girl who made those decisions, entered that lifestyle, and learned valuable lessons. It’s hilarious, really.” I let out a hollow laugh. “I became that girl to escape her childhood. The one who was left behind to fend for herself, who was lied to her entire life. So I became the lie. I lived it, and profited off it, until I didn’t need it anymore and had the funds to become the kind of woman my absent parents would hate. Because I hated them. I despised them enough to want to legally make people rich instead of continue on the path they chose.”

“Your parents? Dee, I don’t understand.” Wyn holds out his hands, his blue eyes overwhelmingly bright in the darkened city streets. “Come here. Please.”

I shake my head, retreating farther away from him. “I can’t. This is done. We—we never were. But now? Now there’s no point. You fulfilled your part of the deal, and I completed mine. The transaction’s over.”

“This isn’t a deal to me anymore.”

I raise my chin, and although it feels like my world is cracking before my eyes, I keep going. “It was to me.”

“Even the way we made love?” he grits out.

“Especially the sex.” I lift my skirts to cover my trembling hands. “It’s what I’m good at, remember? Clients paid me thousands for what I gave to you for free.”

His gaze turns to ice, exactly what I expected, although my heart refuses to accept it. “So it was all an act? The way you won my mother’s affection? How you defended Lucy? I know you, Dee. None of that was pretend.”

“You wanted the perfect girlfriend, and I gave her to you. What do you really know about me, anyway? When’s my birthday? Huh? Or my favorite color or food?”

“None of that matters!” he shouts. A few passing pedestrians freeze on the opposite side of the road, and then keep walking. “I don’t require your fucking favorite color to respect the complexities of your mind or feel your understanding about Ma and her battles. How about the advice you gave Lucy when she needed it most? You gave her a reason to keep going, Dee. She’s drowning in that marriage and stuck in a loop of caregiving, never thinking about herself, and you broke her out of that. And let’s talk about when you took on a guy who’d given up on himself. Yeah, he still dreamed, but he’d lost everything, including his soul. That guy is me, Dee. I took you to my family and even though you were out of your element, you stayed solid. You listened to my music and kept me warm when I was feeling so, so cold and empty. You. Do you think I need to know your favorite dish to understand you’re the best woman I’ve ever met?”

A shudder of longing courses through my body. One he can’t—won’t—see. So, I use the best excuse I have to avoid the truth of my feelings. “I’ve lost my job because you lost your temper. I had it handled with Dennis, but you wouldn’t let me stay in control. You’ve taken all I’ve ever strived to become on the line, for what? A pretend relationship? Real love? Neither will give me my life back.” Then, I say what will cut the most, “You nearly killed your brother with that temper, and now I’m seeing it again with a colleague who I could’ve outsmarted, had you not cracked his cheekbone open.”

Wyn sucks in a breath, but I’m not finished.

“And Lucy? Lucy’s the one who’s truly in love with you.” The rest of my sentence turns my throat to ash. “Go to her. Save her. I’m not real.”

“Dee,” Wyn says through his teeth, but it looks like it pains him. “Don’t you dare walk away.”

“You have a lot to work out, too,” I say over my shoulder, glad for the partial obscurement of my crumbling expression. “I wish you all the best, Wyn. Your life deserves some focus. I’m just a distraction.”

“You’re not a—Dee. Dee!” he shouts, but I run to the nearest idling cab, dive in, and urge the cabbie to just drive before Wyn reaches my side of the car.

I don’t turn around as we squeal into traffic. I scrunch my eyes shut at the sound of Wyn’s roughened, hoarse voice for me to stop.

I leave him behind, something I should’ve done the moment I met him, had I known my feelings for him would’ve cost me my job, the one thing I claimed as my own. I was successful. I had achieved what no one thought I could.

If I’d done that, maybe I wouldn’t feel so broken as I desert him now.

29

Wyn

Mason’s awake when I get home, and with the argument with Dee on repeat in my mind, I’m ready for him.

“Hey, man,” he says when I unlock the apartment door. Mason’s splayed on the couch, flicking through the channels. “Mack’s having one of those nights where she needs the entire bed, and apparently my skin is too hot to touch any part of her. I’m waiting for her to conk out. How was your thing? Looks fancy.”

I don’t answer as I peel off my jacket and loosen my tie.

At my silence, Mason twists his head to regard me better. “Jesus. What’s up with the blood spatter? You good?”

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