Page 91 of Getting Over You

His shoulders relax, like the tightly wound string finally has some give. “I know,” he says. “I want to drink bleach.”

“That’ll kill you,” I say flatly.

“Fine.Garglebleach.”

I wince as Cade pushes the apartment door open and we step inside. Rory is on the couch, a book in her lap. “Hey,” she says. “How did dinner go?”

“It ended in a kiss,” Cade tells her, feigning joy. “It sucked, though, because Belinda kissed me and not Gigi. Or her date.”

Rory sits up, moving her book aside and clasping her hands in her lap. She stares at us thoughtfully, gaping. “What did you just say?”

“You heard him,” I tell her, falling down next to her on the couch. Cade takes a seat on the loveseat across the room. “When we showed up, her boyfriend was there. The funniest part? Her flavor of the week is my ex-boyfriend from Connecticut, and Belinda had him right where she wanted him. She kissed Cade to make him jealous, like she wanted him to see it and punch Cade in the face or something.” My shoulders sink. “I’m sorry, but we aren’t coworkers anymore.”

Rory frowns, giving me a disappointed look. “You quit?”

I nod. “I finally got some nerve, told her exactly why she’s the worst human being I’ve ever met. Safe to say I can’t work for her anymore or stay at her house.”

“You’re staying here,” Rory says, clasping our hands together. “I’m sorry, Gigi. That really sucks. Likereallysucks.”

“You don’t live here,” Cade tells Rory. “You can’t decide who stays.”

“You don’t live here either, fuck face,” Rory tells Cade. “And it’s not like you don’t want your girlfriend here all the time.”

Cade goes to rebut, but snaps his mouth shut.

An excited chill goes down my spine.

“It’s decided,” Rory says, “you’re moving in. But how are you going to get your stuff?”

I chew indecisively on my cheek. “I guess I didn’t consider that. I packed what I could and left.”

“Looks like your boyfriend and I are getting your stuff for you,” Rory decides. “Can I use your house key?”

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll go when she’s at the diner tomorrow and pack things up.”

“I’m coming with you,” Cade says.

“You have a shift tomorrow,” I remind him. “And I’m sure it’ll coincide with Belinda being at the diner.”

Cade considers this. “So, I’ll go after work.”

“I’m perfectly capable of packing a suitcase by myself,” I tell him. “I don’t need your help.”

Cade’s jaw flexes. “I beg to differ,” he muses.

“I’m sorry about tonight,” Cade whispers into my hair. We’re on the beach, in our secluded spot from the July fourth party. So far, Cade has gotten me ice cream, asked if I wanted any other comfort food, and demanded we go spend time outside so “my sadness can blow off of me.”

He doesn’t know much about consoling somebody, but I’m pleased he’s trying.

“I’msorry. I should be the one apologizing profusely. My mother accosted you.”

“But all I did was get an unwelcome smooch on the lips,” Cade says. “You think that hasn’t happened to me before?”

My eyes do what they do every time Cade speaks. It certainlyfeels likeI’m doing it every time he speaks, anyway.

“You lost your relationship with your mother for good; I got an unsolicited kiss. Those are two totally different things, Gigi.”

“Still.”Every time he says “kiss,” the image of Belinda forcing Cade’s head down to her and pulling herself against him flashes through my mind. I wince.

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