Page 40 of Avalanche
I can hear Antoine and Liam in the kitchen, the clanging of dishes and pans as they make breakfast. It smells good too, or it would if I didn’t feel like throwing up.
“What’s that?” Liam calls out over the sound of something sizzling in a pan, then softer—to Antoine, presumably— “Did you hear what Eddie said?”
“No, I?—”
The pair of them fall silent as I round the corner. I don’t miss the look of warning on Liam’s face, or the way Antoine’s throat bobs as he swallows back whatever words he’d been about to say.
Eddie gives my back another push, shoving me into the kitchen, my feet nearly tangling beneath me.
“Come on,” he urges. “You know what you were gonna say.”
Yes. Yes, I do.
We’d practiced it in our room this morning, when the early light had bled through the crinkled blinds. It doesn’t make the words any easier to say.
“I’m sorry,” I rasp, biting the inside of my cheek so hard I taste metal.
“For…” Eddie gives my back a prodding nudge.
A knot tightens in my gut. I flatten one hand against my stomach, suddenly painfully aware that I’m only wearing a thin, tight sleeping shirt and a pair of boxers.
Why didn’t I get dressed? This feels like a conversation to have fully clothed.
“For being a jerk,” I croak, then shoot a nervous glance in Antoine’s direction. “About you and Lily, I mean.”
Antoine gives a slow nod, those full lips pulling into a thoughtful frown.
I kissed those lips. Just yesterday. Felt their softness against my own.
“Okay,” Antoine says slowly, but there’s a wariness in his gaze as he watches me step further into the kitchen.
I put that there, that look. The knot in my stomach twists, guilt and anger mixing until I don’t know which is which.
“Yeah, you’re going to have to do better than that,” Eddie claps me on the shoulder, then pushes past me to pull out his usual chair at the kitchen table. He looks up at Liam with a hopeful grin. “You’re making breakfast for me too, right?”
Liam gives an exasperated sigh, then turns to crack another half carton of eggs into a bowl. Eddie turns, looking meaningfully from me to the seat beside him at the table.
Well, I guess I’m doing this.
My face burns as I slide into my seat beside Eddie, the wood creaking ominously, louder than usual in the waiting silence of the kitchen. For a long moment, the only sound is the sizzling of the eggs on the stove and the thundering of my own heart.
“I, uh, I guess I owe you an explanation,” I begin, daring a glance up at Antoine.
He’s still leaning against the kitchen counter, his long limbs stretched in front of him, a tight-fitting sweater stretching across his shoulders, accentuating the dip of his waist.
He’s beautiful. Why does he have to be so beautiful?
I clear my throat and stare down at the table.
And then I tell them everything.
By the time I’m done, Eddie has finished eating the eggs Liam cooked him and is pretending not to stare pityingly at me over his cup of coffee. Liam has nearly finished his breakfast too, pausing between mouthfuls to blink at me in disbelief.
Not Antoine though. No, his plate sits nearly untouched in front of him, just like mine. I prod at the cold eggs with my fork and try to work up the courage to take a bite.
“Merde,” he whispers, his own fork clasped so tight, the backs of his knuckles are pale against his dark skin. “I didn’t… I had no idea.”
I shrug and make a sound that’s too rough and full of heartache to be a laugh. “It’s okay,” I mumble. Because what else is there to say? What do you say when the guy you’re falling for is going to marry the woman you love? “I get it.”
