Page 33 of Missing Linc
I look at Cam behind me, both of us still in our underwear, and I roll my eyes.
“Why is that any of your business?” I ask.
“I’m your fiancée. I’d think it is my business if my boyfriend is cheating on me. Wouldn’t you say?” she addresses Cam with that last question.
I don’t know why she feels the need to bring him into whatever demented view she has right now.
“It would be your business, if we were still engaged,” I say.
She gasps and lifts her hand in the air.
“Then what the hell is this?” she asks, pointing at her engagement ring.
“Wait, ar-are you still together?” Cam asks beside me.
I hate the hurt that appears in his eyes. And I hate Makayla more for putting it there.
“It’s not, Cam. I promise. She’s just deluded,” I try to reassure him, but that sends Makayla in her own frenzy.
“I knew one of those friends of yours was going to be a bad influence on you, but you didn’t listen. You told me I was crazy. And look at that. Now you’re bringing strange men in our house—”
“My house,” I say. I don’t know why that’s the important part that I take offense in, but I guess I’m used to the rest of the bullshit.
“I thought giving you some space would make you realize what a colossal mistake you were making. I didn’t realize you were going to start sleeping around.”
I’ve had enough. I push Makayla out of the house to her dismay.
“You know when I took your keys? That was because we’re over Makayla. So don’t fucking come back. Okay?” I tell her and slam the door on her. “Now, where were we?” I ask Cam.
“I think I better go,” Cam says.
“What? Why? Don’t listen to her. She’s crazy,” I tell him.
“She’s obviously still in love with you.”
“So what? I don’t love her anymore,” I tell him.
“She still has your ring,” he says.
“Because she didn’t want to give it back. I could care less about that shit. I bought it ages ago, and it’s got no sentimental value for me, so I let her keep it if it meant she’d leave me the fuck alone.”
“Well, I guess that didn’t work.”
I take a step toward him and bring him to my arms for a kiss.
“No. I guess it didn’t,” I say. “So… how about the shower?”
He smiles, but it’s strained, and I don’t like it. As much as I don’t like what he says next.
“I think I need to go.”
“What? No. Why?”
“I don’t know, Linc. I… I don’t want to be a rebound, I guess.”
“You’re not.”
“You were engaged! Of course I’m a rebound.”
