Page 109 of Deceit

“You don’t love me,” she bursts out as if she’s been keeping it to herself for years. “And I don’t love you. So when we’re finished with this shit, you can deal with your own messes from now on. I’m done.”

Then she spins around, her warmth leaving my rigid body, and begins towards the door.

I let her go. It’s better this way; I saying it to myself over and over.

Thing is, I don’t wish to keep it to myself—us.

I want to just be free of it.

A month later…

Four weeks is a lot of time to ponder. To reevaluate and bring yourself to some sort of conclusion on how you think you should change, act, and make your next move.

Bishop already has a head start.

Two days after we fought in the Hamptons, he took a mission that Ledger left openly assigned and went to Germany.

I haven’t heard from him since.

Numerous times I’ve picked up my phone, tempted to apologize.

Other times I needed to call him out and corner him to tell me that he loved me in some capacity, whether it was more as friends or not at all.

Having sex wasn’t practical anymore to my health, and the unknown is something that has been eating me alive ever since.

However, the more I push him, the more obvious that he backs away. And maybe it’s in my nature to destroy and not create.

Bishop doesn’t need or want someone so overbearing and childish as me because that’s how I’ve been behaving. I might as well have stomped my foot and demanded him run his every action by me from now on. I sure as hell wouldn’t choose me as a wife; how can I blame him?

“Do you not like your food?” My eyes flick from my medium-cooked steak and garlic mashed potatoes to find my date, Alexander, at the other side of the table.

Dressed in a khaki-colored coat and a white button-up cardigan underneath, Alexander is studying me with a perked brow. He’s more than likely waiting for me to give him the green light to call over the waiter for whatever I may need.

It isn’t the food, obviously, it’s my situation.

It’s the fact that I haven’t felt good in weeks and it’s allhisfault.

And mine.

My stomach knots and wants to retch up all the contents in it. I’m getting headaches, feel fatigued, and I might sound like a whiny bitch, but when he’s not around, nothing feels right.

As pathetic and stupid as that may be.

Nonetheless, it’s given me time to ponder how to accomplish all of the things above.

But that’s all I’ve done is think.

I haven’t made any decisions yet and I’m not sure what I’m waiting for. I’ve murdered and buried our relationship. And even though the physical attraction is still there, it won’t make us last more than it has.

“Everything is wonderful,” I convey, forcing a genuine smile to form on my face. “I’m sorry, work is—has been on my mind all day.”

“You need a break, Emmy.” He lifts his wine glass and swirls the red contents. “You know...I have a business trip to Florida coming up. It’s nothing exotic or Paris even, but it’s water and sunshine. You wanna come?”

I shake my head. “I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” He takes a small sip of his Pinot Noir and licks his bottom lip.

I envy a little of Alexander.

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