Page 33 of On the Line

Finally, his lips twist into a sarcastic smile, tugging his arm away from my hand while his stare turns vicious. “Lead the way,honey.”

For a moment, I can’t move. Years of insidious abuse has me rooted to the spot, questioning if I can do this when I can already feel his violent words tearing my skin open.

I’d crawl on my hands and knees to have you on my tongue again.

Ozzy’s heated declaration floats back to me, reminding me that words can act like a healing balm. That words don’t need to hurt. They can glide over my skin, making me shudder with pleasure instead.

With that small flash of reinforcement bursting in my chest, I lead Zachary into the house and up to my bedroom. Carefully closing the door behind us, I swiftly turn around, finding him standing in the middle of the room like a raging bull ready to charge.

“We’re done,” I declare calmly, even though I can feel my heart slamming against my chest.

Zachary laughs dryly, looking up at the ceiling, then back at me. “What? You start working at that little restaurant of yours and you suddenly grow a backbone? Are you so desperate to fit in with your new working-class friends that you want to break up with your rich boyfriend now? Is that it?”

I’m unsure how to respond to his bizarre accusation. Already too exhausted to justify what he just said with a retort, I decide to just agree with him.

“Something like that.”

His face falls. There’s a beat of silence so loaded I can feel it pulsing against me.

Zachary moves so fast I barely have time to process what he’s done until the entire content of my vanity crashes to the floor.

The silence returns.

I stare at the floor. I don’t react to his sudden flare of anger. His behavior usually scares me.

Not today.

No.

Today his actions feel childish.

My eyes are locked on the remnant shards of my Baccarat Rouge bottle. The perfume lingers between us, smelling like loss, instead of tea and jasmine.

“That bottle cost four hundred dollars,” I mutter as if any of it matters.

Hearing his footsteps, I snap my gaze back up. My mind is screaming for my limbs to move but they don’t. I stay planted near the door while Zachary rushes up to me. His face is inches away from mine.

“Do you really think Icareif we break up?” Spittle lands on my cheek but I don’t move a muscle. “You’re worthless without me.I’mthe one who still has money, family connections, apropereducation.” His eyes turn even harder, and I start to shake. “And what do you have? Huh? Your fuckingpaints? Your silly job at the restaurant?” His mouth stretches into a leery smile. I suddenly feel nauseous, my heart pumping noxious adrenaline into my veins. “The only reason I was still with you was for your family connections.If I wanted to sleep with the help, I’d already have that covered since I’ve been fucking Marguerite for months now.”

My eyebrows furrow. “Marguerite?”

“That blue-haired bartender from Stanley’s, youstupidbitch.”

My blinks are slow while I let his confession sink in. It shouldn’t hurt this much but my insides bleed nonetheless.

“What?” I whisper. “When did it—how did you even …” I can’t finish my sentence. Every question feels suddenly trivial to the overarching fact that he’s been cheating on me. And as if reading my mind he answers the question I was too scared to ask.

Taking a few steps back, he tugs on his sleeves, and straightens his tie before saying, “She was hardly the first.”

At that, I regain my voice, boiling ire splitting me in half. I grasp at the first thing I know will hurt him. I’m like a dying animal trying to maim before receiving the fatal blow.

Trying to send him an equally disturbing smile, I straighten my spine. “Well, I guess that makes the two of us then. Although … my indiscretion was a little bit more recent than yours, I’d say …” I look at my wrist as if I have a watch. “Half an hour ago? And at least with him, I didn’t have to fake it.”

I’m shaking, a part of me is still terrified of him, but I carefully keep my expression bored while I wait for his reaction.

His face twists in disgust, nostrils flaring. “I always knew you were a fucking slut,” he says slowly but savagely. “You letting Spencer fuck you at Carson’s toga party should have been evidence enough.”

I take a step back as if struck, hitting the door behindme. My mind grows hazy like I’m slipping into an abysmal spiral full of jagged edges and broken shards.

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