Page 205 of Becoming Us
I stared out at the city.
Just block it out. It’s white noise. Don’t engage. You’ll just make it worse.
“If you can’t tell me what you spent it on, I’m not going to authorize it.”
“You know what?” Her tone took another edge, bitter and dramatic. “Keep your fucking money. Let me figure it out. Let me scrape by. I never should’ve had kids anyway.”
And she hung up.
Block it out. That didn’t hurt you. Block it out.
I inhaled slowly.
You couldn’t even ask how I was doing, could you? Yeah. You sure as shit didn’t want any kids. That much is clear.
My eyes stung. I groaned, furious with myself. I should’ve been made of ice by now. Why the hell did I keep letting this get to me?
I should just authorize it. She wasn’t scraping by, but…if she needed it.
A soft tap came from the window behind me. Atty was leaning against the frame, concern etched into every line of his face. “Hey.”
I tried to smile. Even when all I wanted was to ask for a hug and bury my face in his chest and stay there until I stopped feeling anything.
“Hey,” I muttered.
His pale eyes darted over my face. “Are you okay?”
No.
I’m not fucking okay.
I don’t remember what being okay feels like.
Maybe that’s what it would feel like—with you.
But I nodded, the motion stiff, already feeling the dam cracking behind my eyes. I wouldn’t be able to hold it in for long.
“Yeah, I’m fine, Atty. I think I’m going to take a quick shower.”
I pressed my lips together and slipped away before he could ask anything else.
In the bathroom, I locked the door behind me and braced my hands on the counter, its cold surface biting into my palms. I stared at my reflection, but I didn’t really see myself—just the outline of someone I didn’t want to be.
How many more times does she have to tell you she doesn’t love you until you fucking get it?
I tugged on my necklace, knuckles white with pressure.
There’s nobody left.
Nobody who stays.
Nobody who wants you—not really.
My eyes drifted down to the bottles.
He wants me. Even if he doesn’t know what he’s asking. Even if he’s wrong.
I pulled out my wallet and took the bag from it, laying it on the counter. Not for the first time in the last couple of weeks, the sight of it made me hate it.
