Back To You | complete

Chapter 23| The Cat Is Out Of The Bag

Ouch, Griff. Low blow.

I shook myself. "I figured that since I couldn't forgive him and he didn't seem to be over me either, why not?"

"What?" He repeated with a scowl.

"Stop saying that." I scowled back. "I know that thing up there is full of George, but try to think."

His eyes narrowed at me.

"Don't bring George into this," he told me.

"Don't call my boyfriend a scumbag," I retorted in a fit. I realized my slip a moment too late.

Oops.

"Your boyfriend?!" He stood up in rage. "Are you fucking crazy?!"

Defense, Olivia. Play defense.

"I'm trying to tell you that the man I love loves me back and we're together, and this is how you react?" I asked him angrily. It wasn't hard. I was sad that he was reacting that way after years of telling me to talk to him and sort it out. It was mostly Sam, but he had tried a fair amount, too.

"That man, he broke you years ago!" He yelled.

I folded my hands across my chest. "I did that to myself."

"No," he hissed. "He did."

I shook my head. "All he did was-"

"Cheat?" He supplied unhelpfully.

"Make a mistake," I corrected. "He made a mistake. He apologized. Period."

"Once a cheater, always a cheater, Olivia."

"He's changed," I insisted.

"He's dating Chelsea!" He pointed out.

I finally allowed myself a smug smile. "No, he's not."

"The tabloids say he is." 

See? It's fooling everyone.

I shrugged. "Well, he says he's not and I believe him." 

"Oh?" Griffin challenged. He whipped out his phone. "Let's see."

He unlocked the phone, seemingly searching for something.

"This is bullshit, Griffin," I spoke, watching him scroll determinedly. "Stop this. You don't have to like him."

He kept quiet, still searching. I sighed, waiting. When he found what he was looking for, he handed me the phone and plopped back down beside me.

"What is it?" I asked, not taking my eyes off him.

"Read," he told me.

"What-"

He cut me off. "Just do it."

I frowned, bringing my eyes down to the mobile in my hand. My eyes skimmed over the article and with every sentence I read and each picture I looked at, more color drained out of my face. My head hurt.

My heart broke.

"This is not true," I said stubbornly. I was so thankful that my voice was steady.

"It is," Griffin said. "See the date."

I did. It checked.

"No." I shook my head vehemently. "No. He would never."

"He did it once before," he spat. "This is twice."

"No," I repeated.

"Olive, open your eyes," his tone softened. "He's with her. They look cozy. You're setting yourself up for getting hurt."