Page 27 of Pity Present

I nearly forgot that Blake and I are practically roommates. Weactually might have been had he not told the desk clerk we weren’t together. Still, having him right next door to me is sure to cause some sleepless nights. Even though I know I’m only making my life more difficult in the end, I tell him, “Fine. Good. I’ll see you then.”

“Are you going somewhere now?” He sounds surprised.

Glancing over his shoulder, I say, “We should get out there and mingle if we’re going to have anything to talk about over breakfast.” Yet, Blake could probably read the menu to me, and I’d totally be riveted.

He bobs his head up and down. “Good plan. I think I’ll look for Krista.”

“The kindergarten teacher?” My tone is full of disgust. What does she have that I don’t? Other than maybe a massive glue stick collection.

“Yeah. How about you? You going to find the guy in the suit?”

“I just might,” I tell him. Then without another word, or even a backward glance, I turn and walk away. I’m so butt hurt that Blake doesn’t return my interest that I don’t pay attention to where I’m going, and I wind up walking right into Kyle. Fun times.

He’s carrying two glasses of wine, and nearly spills both before righting himself. “Molly, hey.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk,” I hiss nastily.

“We weren’t but that was before you almost ran me over.”

Taking a step back, I say, “Sorry about that.”

I’m about to walk away before my ex announces, “I wish there was some way you could forgive me.”

I can’t seem to stop my eyes from rolling, not that I’m trying too hard. “I suppose if you found a time machine we could go back in time. Then you couldnotcheat on me.”

“What do you think our lives would be like now if I hadn’t?”

The question causes a deep-rooted angst to bloom inside my belly. I shouldn’t answer him, but I’m so caught in the momentthat I say, “I suppose we might be married by now. Maybe even be buying a house and expecting a baby.”

I should be pleased by the look of longing on Kyle’s face, but I’m not. Surprisingly, I almost feel as sorry for him as I do for myself. “That would have been nice,” he says. “I’m sorry I messed things up so badly.”

“Are you?” I want to know. “Or are you sad that you don’t have those things with Amelia?”

He considers his answer for long enough that I know his answer without him saying anything. For the second time tonight, I feel the sharp stab of rejection. “Is there any way we can be friends?” he asks despondently.

“I don’t see how,” I tell him truthfully. “I don’t let men lie to me, and I sure as heck expect better from my friends.”

“Can we at least try to not be enemies?”

I think about something my mom always says about forgiveness. She says you don’t forgive someone to appease their hearts, you do it to ease your own. And while I plan to be angry at Kyle forever for his blatant disregard of my worth, I don’t love him anymore. Being that I truly did like him once upon a time, I decide, “We don’t have to be enemies.”

“That’s a good start.”

I shake my head. “Not a start. The end. Full stop. We don’t go anywhere from there.” And while I should enjoy the look of sorrow my words invoke, I don’t.

“I guess I’ll see you around then,” Kyle says. He pauses long enough that if I stopped him, I’m sure he would stay. But I don’t. I simply watch him walk away toward a pretty woman wearing a black cocktail dress and an expression of raw hope.

I instantly know I don’t have the intestinal fortitude to continue with this mixer. I know I told Blake I was going to mingle, but the only thing I want to mingle with right now is a hot bath and trash TV. Turning to leave the room, Trina catches my eye. She walks toward me with a pep in her step not often seen bysomeone who isn’t an NFL cheerleader. “You’re very popular tonight!”

“Not really,” I tell her.

“What about that tall hotty you were dancing with? That looked promising.”

“Blake has made me an offer,” I tell her. Her expression morphs into one of a child receiving a kitten on Christmas morning. “He’s asked me to be his dating buddy. Apparently, he wants someone to talk to about other women.” She suddenly looks like her kitty got hit by a car.

“Really? That’s not at all how it looked. What about the guy you were just talking to? I just saw the back of his head but that looked decent.”

There’s no shame quite like public shame and the emotion fills me to the brim. “He and I dated for a year before he left me for someone else.”

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