I keep telling myself that, seriously, I'm fine.
To say the atmosphere between Stephanie and me became tense at the spa is laughable. We've been getting pampered for over two hours, and I barely said more than two words at a time.
Do you want to come with me to the hydro pool?
No.
What time are our dinner reservations?
7:00 pm
What are you wearing tonight?
I don't know.
Should I order us another glass of champagne?
Sure.
The worst part is that it's not her fault. It's not a secret to Ben that I don't like Stephanie. She annoys me on the best days, but what he's done is unforgivable. I never expected he'd be so reckless, but I should have known involving myself with Ben would only end in heartbreak.
I spent the remainder of my afternoon trying to convince myself I didn't care. Ben and Stephanie slept together. I made myself believe I didn't care when Stephanie's eyes lit up as she rehashed their sexy times or that she looked flushed and giddy when she provided us with graphic details about the size of his cock. I also try not to care that Ben hid this information from me. And I try even harder not to pass out from the pain in my heart. I scold myself because I should have known. It was so obvious...
Stephanie has always looked continuously to Ben for attention, and annoyingly so. She's always batting her eyes, talking in a baby voice, and jumping at any chance she can to touch him. Her sexually charged behaviour, coupled with her natural beauty - cat-like eyes and supermodel body - already make her 100% Ben material. I could see her swaying her voluptuous hips from side to side, seducing him instantly.
I feel nauseous from the thought. I'm sick with jealousy.
I should have never flipped that coin.
We leave the spa by mid-afternoon, and I say goodbye to a good portion of my bank account.
As we return to our villa, Stephanie and Michelle walk ahead, chatting about how Ben and Stephanie need to hook up again while Jessica walks beside me.
"Everything okay, Megan?" she asks.
I nod. "Yeah. I'm fine."
"So I'll see you in twenty minutes or so?" she asks. "I need to go back to my villa to grab a few things before I come to your villa to meet up again."
"That sounds good."
I wave her goodbye, feeling so crummy. I want to slip into pyjamas and go to bed, but I can't because I have Jessica's bachelorette party to attend.
I rifle through my luggage, feeling hopelessly lost in what to wear tonight. Everything looks grey and frumpy, crumbled and disorganized. I glance at Stephanie and Michelle, holding up dress after dress against one another as they debate what to wear.
There is a knock on the front door before Jessica appears in our villa. She looks beautiful. She's dressed sexy in a stunning long-sleeved purple skin-tight dress that sparkles all over, making her blue eyes vibrant and her tanned skin fantastically gorgeous.
"You look so hot," Michelle says, smiling.
"Thank you," she responds, twirling in a full circle.
Stephanie glances down at Jessica's hands. "What do you have there?" she asks.
She carries three neatly wrapped presents with pretty pink bows in her arms. Waving us over, she sits down on the sofa. "Come on, girls. I have gifts for you."
She hands the first present to Stephanie. "Thank you for being my bridesmaid," she says.
"Of course," Stephanie smiles.
She handed the second present to Michelle and then passed the third present to me.
"Thanks, Jess," I say, placing the present on my lap.
She touches my forearm and glances up at me with glossy eyes. "I hope you like it," she whispers. "I know nothing I can ever give you will be enough to thank you for being my maid of honour and putting up with me. I've been a bit of a bridezilla this past year."
"Just a little," I tease her.
Before I can unwrap my present, I hear Stephanie and Michelle oohing and awing to my right and thanking Jessica for their new fabulous pair of golden peep-toe Louboutin heels.
"These heels are a must-wear for tomorrow's wedding," she smiles. "They are so gorgeous."
"They are fantastic," Michelle breathes, slipping one onto her bare foot and admiring herself in the mirror. "These are too much."
I unwrap my box, nearly fainting when I catch an up-close glimpse of the heel height. Jessica must see the look of terror on my face because she says, "If you wear them tonight, you will have gained enough practice to wear them tomorrow."
"Thanks, Jess. " I pause to consider my next words. "They are beautiful."
Which is an understatement. They are stunning. But I wouldn't have expected any less from Jessica. "I'm not the best in six-inch heels, but I'll do my best."
"Your present isn't done. Look in the box." She nudges me with her elbow, sporting a sneaky little smile.
I glanced down into the box and saw a second present: a little blue Tiffany box. I looked at her and said, "Jessica, this is too much."
"Open it," she urges me.
I gasp as I flip open the box and see a sparkling silver chain with the cutest little charm attached. The charm is light pink, and a diamond ring is carved on the front.
"Flip it over," she insists. I do as she says, and I see an etching on the backside that reads: " Friends Forever, Love J. "
It may be because I had pent-up emotions after learning about Stephanie and Ben or because this etched charm reminds me of our childhood and when Jessica and I went to the mall to pick out matching friendship necklaces. Or because I am so happy for her and Michael. But whatever it is, it causes tears to fall from my eyes and stream down my cheeks.
Tears flow even more when she tugs the same necklace and charm from around her neck.
I lean forward, wrap my arms around her neck, and bury my head in her shoulder. She hugs me back, babbling about why she picked a charm with a diamond ring—reminding me of our twelve-year-old selves and our wedding promise to be one another's maid-of-honours.
Stephanie ruins the moment by cracking open a can of beer and saying, "A toast to the bride and her maids. Now, are we ready to get this party started or what?"
"Hell ya," Jessica woos. "I'm ready to drink tequila and dance on a table."
"Okay, Megan, time to put on a dress and get yourself ready," Michelle says, smiling.
Jessica turned her attention to me again, assessing my attire: navy shorts and a white tank top.
"You can't wear that outfit with these new heels," she says matter-of-factly. "Where is your luggage? Let me help you find something else to wear."
Instantly, Jessica and Michelle transition into make-over mode by selecting a lace dress to match the heels. Jessica wasn't kidding when she said I should practice wearing them before tomorrow.
Even twenty minutes later, as we walked to the restaurant, I remember how I felt when Stephanie confessed to sleeping with Ben for the first time only months before he slept with me. But I do my best to shake away my heartbreak, fixing my dress and linking arms with Jessica as we enter the restaurant. Had I not been slapped with the worst news of my life earlier today, I would have been much more bubbly and ready to party the night away.
The restaurant is elegant, with high ceilings and dim lighting overlooking a pool that glints in the moonlight. We were a little late for our reservation because Jessica insisted on last-minute loose curling of my hair.
Jessica's mother, Anne Ellis, greets us with a hug and a smile.
"You look stunning, darling," she whispers in Jessica's ear.
Michael's mother, Grace, rises from the table to greet Jessica, giving her a stiff hug.
Jessica proceeded to greet numerous other family members and friends while we took our seats at the end of the table.
Anne Ellis carries most of the conversation during dinner, telling everyone childhood stories about Jessica, including a reiteration of the day she was born. She even shares a few stories of Jessica's high school years, when Anne caught us skipping class. Or the time Anne just happened to be driving along fraternity row and spotted me, Michelle and Jessica participating in simultaneous keg stands on the front lawn of Alpha Delta Phi. And even the time, Anne found us in the garage trying to hijack Mr. Ellis's Jaguar so we could hit up a party on the west end of Chicago.
Anne laughs now, but I don't remember her laughing when it happened. I distinctly remember her calling my mother to rat me out. I was grounded for an entire month.
Six drinks later and three shots, we shuffle Jessica from the restaurant and onto a shuttle to the Theatre Bar. I'm not sure why I sit beside her on the ride, listening to her slur her words, a hiccup on every bump, and drunkenly sing along to every song played by our shuttle driver. I'm nowhere near as drunk as Jessica. I'm thinking to survive this night, I need to catch up.
When we arrive at the Theatre Bar, Jessica stumbles from the shuttle and tells our driver he's a "real cutie." This is the most intoxicated I've ever seen Jessica. Usually, she's relatively contained and knows her limit.
As we enter the bar, dance music pumps through the speakers, and it becomes obvious that Jessica is ready to dance. She immediately moves her body to the music, shouting out a few woos, and muscles her way up to the crowded bar, ordering a round of shots.
We dance, drink, and flirt with boys. Time passes quickly, and by the night's end, Jessica is dancing on top of the bar, drink in hand, like a bad version of the movie Coyote Ugly.
Men surround the bar, cheering her on. She loves every minute of the attention. At one point, I watched her allow a random dude to take a body shot from her navel. When he gets a little too handsy, I decide to intervene before she drunkenly crosses the line from having a good
time to highly inappropriate.
As I'm having Jessica chug a glass of water, Michelle dances over to us with a plate of shots.
"She's had enough," I tell Michelle. "She just let some guy grab her ass."
"I'm hardly even drunk," Jessica slurs, eyes glassy. "Let's keep this party going. Woo."
Michelle winces, seeing how drunk Jessica has become. "You take her shot then, Megan. You're nowhere near drunk enough for a bachelorette party."
I take two shots from the tray, shooting them in unison, hoping tequila will make me forget about Ben and Stephanie. I sputter and cough, thinking a few more things will disappear from my memory. Soon enough, I've drunk enough shots and had enough drinks to feel myself letting loose and dancing the night away. I'm so uninhibited I find myself bumping and grinding with any hot young guy who crosses my path on the dance floor.
But when midnight hits, so does Jessica's vomit.
Anne Ellis shrieks, "Oh God. Jessica threw up in the washroom. I need to get her back to my villa."
I help Ms. Ellis flag down a shuttle, lift Jessica onto the seat, and wave goodbye to them. Shortly after, the other ladies disappeared from the bar, leaving Stephanie, Michelle, and me buzzing and ready to party. But when I stopped dancing, the six or so tequila shots I had rushed to my brain, making me dizzy.
"Maybe we should head back to the villa and call it a night," I say.
Stephanie shakes her head. "No way," she says. "I am going to find Ben and make my move. Tonight's going to be round number three, ladies."
I'm almost positive my heart fell out somewhere on the dance floor and was trampled into nothing. In truth, even though I am drunk and so done with Ben, it still hurts like a bitch to hear Stephanie talk about wanting to fuck him. It hurts even more so when an image of them having hot and steamy sex flashes through my mind.
I take a deep breath and do what any level-headed girl would do in my situation. I order two tequila shots from the bartender, shoot them and tell Stephanie to lead the way. I have no idea what I will do when I see Ben, but I am ready to find out.
The Sports Bar is easy to find. Thanks to a slightly more sober Michelle, who leads the way.
Even though our party ended early - mainly because the bride was too drunk to stand – the bachelor party appeared to be in full swing.
As we approach their table, I see Michael shotgun a beer. Matthew is the first of their group to spot us, walking toward them. He waves us over, and I see Michael's face drop at the sight of us. Right away, he asks, panicked, "Where is Jessica? Is she okay?"
I nod. "Yes. She's fine. Just a little drunk," I tell him. "She puked in the washroom at the bar, but her mom brought her back to their villa."
"This is a bachelor party," Eric says, appearing from behind Michael. "No girls allowed."
"Too bad, so sad," I tell him, linking my arm to Michael's to steady myself. "We're staying. You don't mind, right?"
"You girls can stay," Michael says, laughing.
With a deep breath, I see Stephanie has already perched herself on Ben's lap.
My heart stops, and my vision blurs as I watch her whisper into his ear. My pulse races and my skin is clammy and flushed as I watch him laugh at whatever she says and whisper something back into her ear.
Ben's expression falls as his eyes catch mine across the room and then drift to Stephanie on his lap. As I watch her run a finger along his jawline, my heart seems to fall apart piece by piece.
"Megs," he shouts, waving me over.
I turn away from him, wanting to run as far away as I can, when I hear Steven's familiar voice call out to me from my right, "Megan, hey. Over here. "
He's sitting on the opposite side of the table from Ben. He stands to greet me and drapes a hand along my shoulders, guiding me onto the empty chair beside him.
"What a nice surprise," he says, kissing me on the cheek.
From the corner of my eye, I can see Ben's slumped posture and the way he's staring at me.
"Have you met Dave and Charlie?" Steven asks, sliding me a drink.
I shake my head. "No, I haven't."
"Dave's my younger brother, and Charlie is Aunt Florence's son."
"It's nice to meet you," I say.
Dave laughs. "Wow, Steven. I like this girl," he says, watching me. "Where has Jessica been hiding you for all these years?"
"Chicago," I say, smiling.
"Too bad she didn't think to introduce us instead of my goofball older brother," Charlie says.
"Okay, Charlie," Steven laughs.
"Hey, everyone," Dave stands, shouting at the entire table. "Let's do a shot. Everyone grab one from the tray." Everyone does as he says, and he raises his shot glass when everyone appears ready. "To Jessica and Michael."
I raise my shot glass to my lips, effortlessly shooting the whiskey, and I feel Ben's eyes glaring at me.
From the corner of my eye, I can also see Stephanie still hasn't removed herself from his lap.
"I like your dress," Steven says, inching his way closer in my direction.
"Thanks," I say, feeling his bare hand slide along my thigh. "I like your shirt," I tell him because I do. He's wearing an adorable buttoned shirt over a crisp white tee.
He blushes, glancing down briefly before meeting my eyes again. "I don't know what you're doing to me, Megan, but I like it," he says, brushing a loose curl over my shoulder. "Jessica made a good decision to introduce us. You're everything I've been looking for: beautiful, smart, and modest. I like that."
I try to feel anything when Steven says this, but I don't. I feel empty.
Somewhere behind me, I hear Ben's deep laugh from across the table, and I hear Stephanie laughing with him as he recites a few lines from a comedy movie he's obsessed with. I make the mistake of looking over my shoulder and seeing Ben cupping the back of Stephanie's neck, bunching her brown curls in his fingers. I want to vomit. The only thing I know is that I need to move.
"I need to use the restroom," I say, placing my drink on a table next to us. But really, all I want to so is leave.
"Oh," Steven says. "Are you feeling okay?"
I nod, wishing more than anything I could erase the thunderous memory of Stephanie's confession from my memory. I push away from the table and walk towards the bathroom, hoping to calm myself. Sliding into the nearest stall, I sit down on a toilet seat and drop my head into my hands, crying.
Thank God, no one is in here.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Open up."
"Ben?" I shout, pulling open the door. "What the hell are you doing in here?"
Suddenly, he's inside the stall, his hand curls around my arm. "You're avoiding me," he says. I can smell alcohol on his breath. "And you're making yourself look ridiculous by throwing yourself all over Steven."
"Let go," I warn him.
We glare at each other in impenetrable silence, but his grip doesn't loosen.
"Don't let that asshole slide his hand up your thigh again," he finally says, growling. "I don't like it."
I pull out of his grasp. "You're one to talk."
"What does that mean?"
"Stephanie's crotch must feel great on your lap so I don't understand why on earth you are in here with me." I say, taking a step forward. "And now I'm leaving."
"What? No." he says, blocking my exit. "You're not going anywhere until we discuss why you're avoiding me and being so distant."
I feel my face heat and my lips part in a gasp. How many times did Ben let me assume I could trust him, that there wasn't anyone else? I would never have kept something like that from him. I told him everything about my life and fears and the people I've slept with, and he had the nerve not to tell me he'd been with Stephanie before he slept with me. The one girl I can't stand. Relationships are based on trust, and after this, how could I ever trust him again?
"Go fuck yourself, Ben," I say, pushing past him.
I am way too drunk to have this conversation.
I walk back into the bar and my heart races. He calls out after me, but I'm already sitting beside Steven, sipping on the drink he handed me. Behind me, his feet pound on the wood; he slumps down in his chair this time without Stephanie on his lap.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Steven asks.
I give him my fakest smile. "Yes. I'm fine."
I take a sip of a drink, pretending everything is normal and that Ben's lies haven't wholly obliterated my heart.
Someone taps my shoulder. It's Michelle, smiling down at me. "Come dance with me, please," she says. "Stephanie doesn't want to. She's on a mission. " She nods to Stephanie, standing at the bar, taking a shot with Ben.
I feel the shards of betrayal pushing deep into my lungs, making breathing hard. I quickly decided I would not let Ben and his dirty secret ruin my night.
"Sure," I say, finally. "Let's dance."
I pretend I'm happy, twirling under Michelle's arm and swaying to the music. And when some random guys join our dance party, I twirl under their arms, too. They get a little too touchy-feely a few songs later, so I tell Michelle I will get another drink. She doesn't want to join, so I head to the bar alone.
As I wait for the bartender to make our drinks, I feel a tap on my shoulder. "Time to go," Ben says. "We need to talk. You're coming with me to my villa right now."
I shake my head. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
The bartender slides two cocktails across the bar, but before I can reach for them, Ben takes them and holds them tightly against his chest. "Why not?" he asks.
I shake my head, looking down at my feet. "I can't do this here," I tell him. I wouldn't even know where to start. "Please give me those cocktails," I say, frowning.
Slowly, he slides the cocktails in my direction. I take them and turn around, but he reaches for my arm and stops me.
"Megs, come on," he whispers. "Tell me what's going on with you."
"I just want to have a good night," I said numbly. "Please. Just leave me alone."
I can't have this conversation while drunk, and I especially can't have it in a crowded bar with everyone watching us.
When I turn away from him this time, he doesn't stop me.
He leaves me alone for the remainder of the night, letting Stephanie hang off his arm while he drinks rum and coke. Michelle and I continued to dance on the dancefloor. Steven and his cousin Dave even joined us for a few songs. But when I glanced over my shoulder to see Stephanie lean over and kiss Ben's cheek. I've reached my breaking point.
"I need to go," I say to Michelle, stumbling off the dancefloor. "I'm not feeling well."
"You shouldn't walk back to your villa alone," Steven says. "Let me walk you back."
"No, no, no," I say, waving him off. "I'm okay. Thanks, Steven."
He shakes his head. "No, Megan. I should walk you back."
I hold out my hand to stop him. "No. I'm fine."
Steven glares at me skeptically. "Are you sure?" he asks.
"Positive."
I know Ben is behind me on my walk back to my villa - far enough back to give me some space but close enough that he knows where I am. On the front porch, I fumble my key card as he jogs up to me, out of breath.
"Go away, Ben," I warn him.
"What the hell is going on with you?" he asks. Slowly, his breathing returns to normal. I don't have to look directly at him to know he feels miserable. From the corner of my eye, I can see his slumped posture and the way he's staring at me. "Megan, please," he whispers, his voice tinged with a subtle nervousness.
I'm drowning in humiliation. I feel so incredibly naïve to think this was anything more than just sex. This entire coin toss was such an epic douche move by Ben. Months before he slept with me, he slept with Stephanie, too. It's almost comical.
"When were you planning on telling me you fucked Stephanie?"
I thought he was leaning against the wall, but I realized he was not when he seemed to collapse back against it. "Megan," he breathes. "I wanted to tell you –"
"Don't."
"- I didn't want to ruin things. I never expected she would tell you before I could. She promised she'd never say anything."
My anger flares when he says this.
"How could you hide something like that from me? I was blindsided this morning."
"I had no idea she'd tell you," he insists. "I swear if I had known this would happen, I would have never been with Stephanie. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I don't know why I didn't."
"Maybe because you are a fucking player that can't seem to keep his dick in his pants," I shout. "I don't even know where to start. You've been lying to me, Ben. How long were you planning on keeping this from me? How many times did you have the opportunity to tell me? Why didn't you tell me when it happened? I can't trust you anymore."
He regards me anxiously. "We had sex, okay. Two times. That's it."
I want to punch him for that, especially since it took me losing my shit on him for him to admit it, finally.
"Just talk to me," he says, reading my expression. "Please."
"Talk to you?" I shout, heart racing. "I can't even look at you right now. Just get away from me."
I turn away from him, but he reaches to stop me.
"I made a mistake, okay?" he whispers.
I push my hands into my hair, wanting to scream at him, but I'm not sure I can open my mouth again without bursting into tears.
"A mistake?" I say, voice trembling. "You had sex with Stephanie. Of all the girls in the world, you just had to have sex with the one girl I hate the most. And what hurts so much is how everything we did feels like nothing now. Like I was the last girl on earth, you had left to fuck, and it was merely out of convenience. Like I was your second pick, an afterthought."
"I didn't know how to tell you, Megs. The first time I hooked up with Steph, I was drunk and not thinking clearly. The second time, she called me late night. I knew it was wrong, but it just happened. "
I gape at him, my stomach plummeting. "I want you to leave. Go away, Ben."
He shakes his head. "No. I want to stay and talk about this."
"All right," I say. "How was she? Was she a good lay? Was it worth losing this?"
"What?"
"Was she good? Did you enjoy it? Was she better than me?" I ask.
He winces, running a hand over his face.
"You said you wanted to talk about it," I continue. "Let's talk. How was she?"
He closes his eyes, struggling to find his words. "She was...different."
My heart twists. "Good, different?"
He takes a deep breath, and when he opens his eyes and speaks again, his voice comes out much steadier. "It was just sex, Megan. Why are you reacting like this? I'm sorry, okay? And I was disgusted with myself both times it happened. She means nothing to me."
"You think that makes it okay? That because she means nothing to you, somehow, I'll be cool with this, " I said.
He shakes his head. "I didn't think there would ever be anything more than friendship between us. We were just friends when I slept with Stephanie."
"You slept with me only months later."
"Megan, come on. That's not fair. You were still hung up on Marco." As soon as he says it, the words seem to echo back to him, and his face falls slightly. "I couldn't tell you how I felt," he whispers.
"Stop trying to make excuses."
"I'm not trying to make excuses."
I feel like a tornado is crashing around in my mind, but as usual, even though I'm so mad at him, I could scream; the feel of his body so close and his hands sliding up my arms is so comforting. His eyes soften, and he blinks down at my mouth. "Don't let this ruin what we have."
At first, when I tried to speak, the words came out as shocked and stunned. I close my eyes and try again. "God! Fuck, Ben. And I had to hear about it from Stephanie. I should've heard it from you."
His eyes are wide, and his face is contorted in pain as if he's broken me. "Shit. Megan, I wanted to tell you," he says. "I thought I should. And then Eric convinced me not to."
"Eric knows about us?"
"After we spent the day we spent with the turtles, I had to tell him because this Stephanie thing was eating me up inside," he says, pressing his face to my neck.
I push him away.
"And nothing would've happened with Stephanie if you weren't still hung up on Marco."
"Don't you dare flip this on me," I say, my anger sharpening my words. "Because let's say I was still hung up on Marco. Let's say I slept with Marco days before I slept with you. Would you be able to forgive me? Or would you feel like you were my second choice? Like everything between us was tainted now with lies and deceit."
His face falls, and I can tell he's lying. "Yes, I would forgive you."
"Oh? You'd be okay if right before I fucked you, Marco had kissed me, had been naked with me and fucked me too?"
He covers his ears with his hands, wincing. "No. Fuck. I would have been devastated, but I still want to be with you. Because, I mean, it's you, Megs. You're my best friend."
My heart sinks, and I close my eyes, unable to look at him. "You know what? I'm not the one who wanted this. I'm not the one who asked you to flip that coin."
"Come on, Megs. That's not fair."
My stomach twists. "What do you want from me, Ben?"
He lowers his voice, sounding pained. "I want to figure this out. I did a terrible, stupid, stupid thing, okay? I'm sorry. I should've told you. I wish I told you. I wish I could take it back, but I can't. I can't see us throwing away something we both know is good. These past few days with you have been the best days of my life."
I let his words echo around the front porch until they are drowned out in the silence of the night. I don't even know what to think. My heart tells me to forgive him and trust him. It tells me that he wasn't intentionally keeping this from me for immoral reasons, that it was just a mistake, and that it was challenging to find the right time.
But my mind tells me it's bullshit and that if he wanted to develop something real between us, he would have told me the truth.
He takes a step closer, and my skin hums warmly when he's this close to me. His scent is overwhelming. But I'm also so upset because he's ruined this.
"I want to be with you, Megs," he says into my hair. "I need to be with you."
His lips brush over mine, and he presses them to my mouth, kissing me.
"No, Ben."
He freezes in front of me.
"You can't just kiss me and make it all go away. It doesn't work that way. It doesn't just make it better."
He searches my eyes, lowering his voice when he says, "Megan, please."
I shake my head. "I think you should go now."
"What?"
"I want you to go now."
He takes a few seconds to respond, but his hand spreads possessively across my breastbone, thumb sweeping up to the hollow of my throat. "There's got to be a way we can work past this. I can't imagine my life without you."
There's a softness in his voice I can't handle right now. But really, he fucked this up so badly, and I don't have the patience to admire him while I'm still so angry.
"You're a different person to me now." I push him away when he reaches for me. "I used to think of you as somebody who would never hurt me. You were my best friend. Now I can't stop picturing you with her. I can't. It doesn't matter what you say or what you do. I feel like I can't trust you anymore."
"Megan, you can –"
"This changes everything. I thought I meant more to you."
When I begin to turn away from him, he grabs my arm and spins me around, pressing my back against the front door. He stares at me with an intense look that makes goosebumps rise on my skin. "You do, Megan. I swear you do."
I close my eyes, pressing my lips together. I want to shove him, pull his hair, and feel the weight of him pinning me down.
"This can't be it," he says, voice hoarse.
"It's over, Ben. I'm sorry."
He looked baffled and, for the first time, almost angry. Finally, I turned away from him, swiped the key card, and closed the door behind me.