Page 130 of Come Apart
We make eye contact for a moment. There's something she wants to say, but she's keeping it locked inside.
"You needed help," I say. "I couldn't have left you in that hospital alone."
She turns her attention to her wine glass. "Well, I'm sure it hurts. But... maybe it's for the best."
I grit my teeth. I'm tempted to kick her out of the house.
"For the best how?" I ask.
"Well, she was with Ryan. Aren't you the rebound guy?" She looks away. "I mean, she seems nice and smart and she's very pretty. But maybe you two aren’t meant for forever. Maybe you're meant as a fling."
I try to swallow all the anger that bubbles up from my gut.
Samantha looks away. "Forget I said anything. It doesn't matter what I think. It only matters how you feel." She brings her gaze to mine. I search for intention in her eyes, but I still come up empty. "Do you really see a future with her? It's not like you can't find another pretty girl."
"Fuck you."
The words spill out without conscious thought.
But I mean them.
"Sorry." She clears her throat. "I didn't mean it like that. But you have to admit how it looks."
It's always about how it looks with her, isn't it? It must be why she can't bring herself to hate Edward the way I do. Because even though she loved him, she understood that he couldn't be with her.
Because it just wouldn't fucking look right.
"I love her," I say when I've found some control. "And I want to be with her forever if she'll allow it."
"That's great," she mutters. She tries to maintain her poker face, but it's fading fast. She looks at her cell phone.
"Does that bother you?"
"Of course not. I've told you a million times. I want you to be happy. I want you to move on." She shakes her head, presses her lips together. "Excuse me for a minute."
She moves into the bathroom. Her gait is calm. It's almost like she's normal. Like she only needs to fetch something in the other room.
I could leave her in there. Let her figure this out on her own for once, damn the consequences. She's an adult. She should be able to manage one of her contained fits.
But there are prescriptions in the medicine cabinet, and I can't trust her not to take them.
I knock on the bathroom door. "Go away."
"Talk to me."
"No. I'm only making your life harder."
"At least tell me what's wrong.”
"It's nothing," she says. "I'm just a little stressed out. It's nothing."
I open the door. She's sitting on the tub, wiping a tear from her eyes. "But I'm getting in the way of your happiness. You love her and you want to be with her, and I'm a problem."
I want to tell her she's right. I want to tell her she brought this on herself. I begged her to stay, but she was done with me. She was so done with me, she'd sooner pine after a dead asshole than spend a single moment in my presence.
She was done with me, and I moved on. And I finally found someone who made me happy.
And now she's jealous.
