Page 134 of Doughn't Let Me Go

“Of course. Enjoy them.”

I give her a tight smile, the only thing I can muster as my heart starts to break.

Porter’s leaving.

That’s okay.

Because I am too.

* * *

After I finished makingKyrie’s cookies—which she most definitelydid nothelp me bake—I settled her down with a movie and retreated to my room to pack my bags and make my phone calls.

When Porter first begged me to work here and I insisted on keeping my apartment, I honestly never thought I’d need to return to it.

I was convinced I could make this work, sure there was nothing that was going to get in the way of this dream job. So what if it was going to be awkward between Porter and me after we slept together? We’d make it work. I had faith that we could work through it.

Now here I am, packing my bags and leaving because I let feelings get the best of me.

Stupid, stupid feelings.

Why did I have to kiss him?

I shove the last of my things into my fraying suitcase and zip it up, setting the bag by the door.

Tonight, instead of waiting for Porter to come to my door, I’ll be going to his and resigning from my position.

I can’t take the humiliation of him letting me go. It’s going to suck, because I know Porter is going to think I’m leaving him, but I’m not. I have to do this to protect myself. I can’t just sit around for the next couple weeks while he packs his life up and cuts me out of it.

There’s no way my heart would be able to survive that. Hell, it’s barely going to survivethis.

I called my old boss at the gas station and begged him for my job back. Thankfully people aren’t rushing out to put their applications in, and my spot was still available. The grocery store I also worked at was fully staffed though. Hopefully I’ll be able to find something else soon or I’ll be dipping into my savings account sooner than I planned.

“Missy Fishy! Missy Fishy!”

I make my way out into the living room. “You rang, Little Fish?”

“Can I watch another movie now?”

I glance at the clock hanging above the fireplace. “Well, it’s getting close to dinnertime. How about you go wash up and get changed? Miss Mel told me your dad is taking you gals to dinner tonight.”

I was invited too but declined, choosing to use up some of the personal hours I’ve been hoarding. I can’t bear to sit in a restaurant with Porter and pretend everything is okay when we both know it isn’t.

Instead, I’m going to take one last long soak in the insane garden tub in my bathroom and then work on figuring out what I want to say to Porter tonight.

“Oooh.” She rubs her hands together excitedly. “Where are we going? Please, please,puh-leasesay pizza!”

“You eat so much pizza you’re about to turn into a pizza,” Porter says, coming down the stairs, Mel right behind.

I don’t look at him.

I can’t.

“Would being a pizzareallybe that bad?”

“Fair point,” Porter tells her. “But the real question is, what kind of pizza would you be?”

“Definitely not pineapple. Thatdoes notbelong on pizza.”

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