Page 109 of Getting Over You

“I think we should talk.”

“You thinkweshould?” I snap. “I’d say try talking to your daughter.” Then, just to add salt to the wound: “Oh, wait. She left.”

Belinda’s lips thin. “I don’t want to talk about Gigi. I want to talk about you.”

“We have nothing to talk about, Belinda.”

“We do!” she exclaims. “Yes, we do, Cade.”

My jaw ticks. I cross my arms over my chest. “You have one minute,” I snarl. “I’m giving you one more minute of my time.”

And not a minute more.

“Well,” she stammers. “I just—You really got me thinking. About the kind of person I want to be.”Oh, god.I nod once, and she swallows her dismay. “And I want to help people. People like you, Cade.”

“So, what?” I spit. “You are keeping me here to tell me you’re abandoning the restaurant and doing what, exactly? Becoming a nurse? A nun?”

“I’m investing,” she says, “in people like you, with big dreams. People who want to be something.” She hands me something from her pocket, a folded paper.

I take it, albeit reluctantly, and when I unfold it, I want to crumple it into a ball, and ditch the slip of paper into the nearest trash. Set it on fire with the lighter in my pocket. Make it disappear.

“What in the fuck,” I mutter, “are you doing handing me a check for thousands, Belinda? What in the ever-loving fuck—”

“I know she cares for you,” Belinda says softly, not looking at me. I can practically hear the gears turning in her mind as she wonders why I’m not crying at her feet in gratitude. “She had such joy in her eyes, telling me about your tattoo shop, everything you wanted to do. I thought if maybe I helped to make that possible—”

“That what?” I exclaim. “Did you think Gigi would come crawling back? Want to be best friends?”

Her lips thin, her eyes closing for a moment. Of course, she fucking thought that would work, that giving me money for my dream would be the ticket to winning Gigi back, roping her back in. Make Gigi think she’s changed, cares more about someone else than herself.

Too bad that’s impossible.

My jaw ticks. I clench my fists, unclench as I try to no avail to relax my jaw muscles. “She told me you abandoned her as a baby,” I tell Belinda. “You know, my dad wasn’t around for me and my brother, either. In fact, I’ve got no clue who the guy is. But it’s not like he saw us when we were born, stayed for a few weeks, and then decided, you know what? This isn’t for me, being a parent, caring about something other than me. Jesus, Belinda. You don’t even realize how bad of a person you are. You think you’re a good mom.”

She glowers at me. “You know nothing about my relationship with my daughter.”

“I know the truth,” I reply, flat. “I’ve seen it all summer. I’ve heard it from Gigi. You’re selfish. Conceited. Demented, I would argue.”

Belinda winces, but I’m in too deep to stop now.

“For you to look at someone as perfect as your daughter, as loving and absolutely selfless as Gigi, and not love her with everything you are? You must be absolutely heartless.”

What does that make me?

Belinda opens her mouth to speak, then closes it, waiting, sinking down as if to make herself appear small, meek, harmless. “Cade—”

I take a steadying breath, square my shoulders, clear my throat to fight the tightness there, to fight coming completely undone thinking about Gigi.

Thinking about how incredible she is.

Thinking about how much I love her.

“You are absolutely heartless, Belinda.”

I pull the check from my pocket, unfold it.

Then rip it into tiny pieces and drop it at Belinda’s feet.

I maneuver around Belinda, storming into the dining room to see if I can catch Rory. She’s grabbing orders at the window as I say, “I love Gigi. I’m in love with Gigi.”

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