I covered every inch, and I found myself almost wanting to get one piece of evidence so I could be waiting in the dark when he returned home. It all played out in my head—I’d be holding the piece of evidence, shining a flashlight to reveal myself and the evidence, and watch his face pale. I’d already have my bag packed, but I’d leave the roses and candles to show him what he could have had tonight. I’d leave him without giving him a chance to try to get me back. It was like a movie playing out in my head.
A key hit the doorknob, but I wasn’t prepared. I didn’t have anything to yell “aha” and confront him with.
The sun had already descended, and his apartment was masked in an orange glow from the stupid tea lights I’d set out.
I stood to the side so he couldn’t see me, hoping she was with him so she could see what kind of guy he was. But no woman’s voice came as I heard his bag thud to the floor.
“Tedi?” he called.
The tension in my body fell at the hope I heard in his voice. At him seeing the rose petals and candles and assuming I was here because no one else would have gotten into his apartment.
I walked around the corner, and his face lit up. God, what was wrong with me? I was being crazy.
He broke the distance, his eyes soaking me in with so much desire, I thought I’d burst into flames. “I love it when you wear my clothes.” He picked me up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. “Babe, what are you wearing under my sweatshirt?”
I gripped him harder, and he let the question go. He didn’t kiss me right away but buried his head in the crook of my neck. And then it happened. First the sting of tears. Then the painful closing of my throat. Third, a rasped apology. “I’m sorry.”
He pulled back and stared into my tear-filled eyes. “What’s wrong?”
He walked me over to the couch, sitting down so I was still straddling him. I kept my face in his neck, not wanting him to look at me. He’d see what I had done and how I’d failed to trust him and how certifiable I could be.
He wouldn’t let me hide, though. Instead, he nudged me to look at him. “What is it?”
“I’m a horrible person.” More teardrops fell down my cheeks, but he didn’t brush them away.
He froze, staring at me, waiting for me to explain.
“I just searched your entire apartment.”
He didn’t say anything but stared into my eyes.
“I thought you were out cheating on me when you didn’t come home.”
He nodded, but still nothing.
“I have no excuse. I’m a horrible human being.” I rested my forehead on his collarbone.
He chuckled and ran his hands down my hair. “You’re not a horrible human being, but did I do something to make you think that I was being unfaithful?”
I shrugged.
He said my name with the same patience and understanding he almost always had for me. This was the Tweetie who got me over this fear all these years together. And in that moment, I found myself upset with Jana and Kane for trading him, because they were making me into a nutcase and ruining my relationship with the best guy in the world.
I pulled back, and he cradled my cheeks in his hands. “I just…”
“Talk to me.”
“Things are changing. We barely talk. We barely text. You don’t send me dick pics anymore.” A wail slipped from my throat, and I tried to hide my face, but he wouldn’t let me hide from him.
His laugh bounced around the half-empty apartment. “So what you’re saying is that you miss my dick?”
“I miss you.”
He laughed harder, and his smile grew. “I know. I was joking. Okay, so we suck at this long-distance thing. Noted.”
His thumbs dried my tears. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. When you said you were a horrible person, the same thought came to my mind, and I just about keeled over. I know I’ve been lost in my own head since the trade.” We held one another for a few minutes, and he kissed my forehead. “Funny that you’re here. I was going to surprise you, but I had to meet with the trainer first, then I was coming here to pack my bag.”