Page 134 of Relationship Goals

He laces his fingers together, then looks back up at me with a dejected expression.

“This entire thing was a lie. So yeah.” I wet my lips, then pause, drinking more. “Yeah. I did some things to make you call it off. To call your bluff.”

“The fucking Maserati.” A look of astonishment transforms his face. His hand goes to his jawline, where a dark five-o’clock shadow has grown, making him look even more rugged.

A humorless chuckle drifts out of me, and I lean the back of my head against the couch for support.

“The lobster? How did you plan on it pinching you?”

I inspect the bandage that’s covering my stitches and sigh. “I didn’t plan on that.”

Princess prances into the room, ignoring Luke’s legs, sprawled over the floor. A condescending sniff of my socked feet ensues, and we lapse into silence, watching her.

“Why, Luke?” I finally ask. “Why would you make me think—” My throat tightens, and I can’t force the words out.Why did he make me think he loved me?

I thought this is what I wanted. To get even.

To show him how much it hurt when someone used you, when they pretended.

It feels like shit.

“You should have asked me that a week ago. I would have told you. Now? Now I’m not sure I want you to know.” His voice is tight, guttural, his knuckles white where he’s fisted his hands.

It’s a verbal slap in the face, and I recoil.

“What kind of person doesn’t just ask? You did…all of this, and you could have justfuckingasked.” He spits the words out, more venom in each syllable than I’ve ever heard from him before.

My anger rises immediately.

“No.No. You don’t get to blame this on me.” My stomach lurches, and I put a hand over my mouth. “What kind of person doesn’t admit it if they really like the other person?”

“The kind of person who’sfalling in love with you, Abigail!” he roars. “The kind of person who’s afraid to fuck it all up! But I guess I already have. We both have.”

I clamp my lips together, refusing to apologize. I don’t want to look at him.

I can’t bring myself to look away.

“It was supposed to be one fucking date, Abigail, and you were supposed to realize right away that I’m an asshole and ghost me. I’d do the bare minimum—tell the owners I tried and get off the damned protected roster.” He laughs, and it’s abrasive. It hurts. “But I liked you. You, Abigail Hunt. I wanted to, god, I wanted to tell you why I asked you out, why it started like that—but then you told me about your ex. And I couldn’t. I was a coward. I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t want to fucking hurt you.” He glances up at me, and those blue eyes knife through my chest.

I want to tell him it’s okay, to tell him we can work it out.

The words won’t come.

“Joke’s on me,” he mutters. “We’re both hurt now.”

With that, he scoops up Princess, who lets out a little mewl before looking at him adoringly.

“What are you doing with her?” I ask, my throat thick.

“She’s my foster,” he says bitterly. “You’re not on the paperwork. I’m responsible for her, I have to take Princess.”

“Luke,” I say on a sob, then swallow it.

We stare at each other in silence for a long, horrible moment, where all the might-have-beens for us disappear into the ether.

He is taking my cat, and for that, I might hate him the most.

“Please leave,” I whisper. “Now.”

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