Page 65 of The Problem with Dating

“How dare you?” I blurted out. “Two things. One—it’s none of your business how I spend my time or how I use my body. And two—it’s none of your business how I spend my time or how I use my body,” I repeated.

“So you think it’s cute running around being easy with any guy who looks your way?”

“Cole. That line? You’re crossing it.”

“That’s just because I care. At least someone has to care about you. Everyone else in town just gossips about you behind your back.”

“No, they don’t.” My body tensed up as he started to chip at those insecurities.

“Yeah, they do. They talk about how desperate you’re coming off, trying to date. They think you’re the reason we fell apart.”

“And let me guess, you’re not quick to tell them the truth.”

“That is the truth. You left me.”

“Because you cheated on me repeatedly!Youdid that. Not me. You left me before I even considered a divorce. Who knows who or how many women it actually was that you left me for.”

“Is that what this is about? You’re still stuck on wanting to know who I hooked up with?”

I sighed. “No, Cole. I don’t, because it doesn’t matter. Maybe back then I cared. I stupidly thought it might bring me comfort knowing, but it means nothing to me anymore. You mean nothing to me.”

Cole paused for a moment, examining what I said. Hopefully my words were sticking a landing in that peanut-sized brain of his.

He pointed a finger at me and shook his head. “Nope. You still care. I can feel it.”

Landing officiallynotstuck.

His hand brushed against his bushy eyebrows and he shrugged. “You know what? Go ahead. Do whatever you have to do to get back at me for hurting you, Yara. Sleep with however many men you wish. I don’t care because I know how this will end. You’ll come back to me, and we’ll get back to our lives.”

“That willneverhappen.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll believe that when you have another man on your arm. But until then, I’ll be waiting.” He walked over to me and snuggled Cocoa’s head. His proximity made chills of disgust race up and down my spine. The opposite of how Alex had made me feel.

At that point, I realized something very important.

I needed a new boyfriend.

Stat.

I walked into my apartment, trying to shake off my irritation with Cole, when there was a knock at my door. I grumbled to myself and swung it open, thinking Cole was returning to steal more of my joy. “What do you want?!” I yipped.

Alex stood there with widened eyes holding a gift bag in his hands. “Is that how you always answer the door?”

I sighed. “Sorry. Thought you were someone else. What’s up?”

“Didn’t mean to bother you again, but I forgot I made you dishes and bones.”

I raised my eyebrows. “What?”

He held the gift bag toward me. “I made you dishes and bones. Chocolate chip bone-shaped cookies, I mean. I also made these two water dishes down at the pottery shop to make up for the one I broke.”

I took the dishes out of the bag to find them filled with cookies. That boiling blood of anguish that Cole filled me with? Alex quickly brought it down to a calm, rolling simmer.

Upon closer inspection of the dishes, I noticed inscriptions circling their base. The first one said “I’m sorry for” and the second read “Being a dick”. I let out a soft chuckle. The self-awareness of the whole situation was rather endearing.

“One dish for water, the other for food,” he explained. “I figured they were better as a pair.”

“You really made these?”

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