Page 97 of Obsessed with the Heartbreaker

Obviously, my father had thought that to me, it would just be a fling. Or maybe he’d hoped. But when my expression had started betraying the deep hurt and longing I felt for Antony, his expression had shifted from anger to pity.

“Oh, Henry.”

“Shut up.”

“Henry—”

I’d turned around, not willing to hear what he had to say, but he said it anyway.

“He’s not for you, Henry. He never will be.”

Truest words had never been spoken. A truth I’d already known then but I’d wanted to deny, naive and hopeful still.

Now I wasn’t anymore.

“So you used him against me,” I said, back in the current moment, back to feeling the bleeding wound in my chest.

It might be metaphorical, but it still hurt like a bitch.

“I did the only thing I could—”

“No. YouusedAntony against me, the only person who ever actually cared about me as a person and not a vessel for his hopes and wishes, and all for what? To get the same result. Nothing.”

Well, nothing as well as shattering my heart into a million tiny pieces. Now it was well and truly broken.

My father saw his mistake on my face.

“Listen, Henry. We can talk about this. I know I haven’t been a great father to you.”

“You haven’t been and you won’t be.”

Throwing the damned landline phone away from me and leaving it to clatter against the tiled floors, I gathered what was left of my dignity and turned to leave.

“Henry, listen to me, please.”

There was no begging he could do that would take away the damage he had done.

Nothing could take away the years of loneliness I’d felt, of feeling inadequate and lesser-than.

And now, I had one thing left to do: break things off with Antony.

I probably should feel betrayed. And maybe I did a little bit. But it was nothing compared to the pain and anguish I felt at the thought that a part of Antony might have felt obligated to stay with me because of the favor.

Antony couldn’t lie for shit, and although I knew he wanted me, our happiness had been a mirage.

I was in love with him, and even if he cared for me, he didn’t feel the same. How could he? He deserved someone respectable, someone put together, someone without endless daddy issues, someone who wasn’t messy, manipulative, and who felt strong and brave enough to actually tell him they loved him. Every day. With their entire being.

I would never be that person.

So with the loud thud of my parent’s front door behind me, I left to do the only thing I knew how to do well.

Fuck things up so bad, there would be no repairing them.

Chapter 32

Antony

After taking the bus back to my apartment, I wasted quite a lot of time getting changed, looking at myself in the mirror, procrastinating and worrying and overthinking about how I was going to do it. Tell Henry about my feelings for him, about the stupid favor Connell had asked of me, and how it had always been an excuse, just like his deal with me had been.

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