“The condom broke. It wasn’t on purpose.”
“You wanted our baby.”
Grief hits me in the face as I grind out my words. “I did, so much. Stop manipulating me with it. It hurts, Vane!”
He grimaces and pulls at his hair. “I made a mistake, and you taught me a good lesson, but you can’t just throw it all away. Baby girl. We belong together.”
A sound of disbelief comes from me. I taught him a lesson? Divorcing him wasn’t a game I played. He cheated on me! He thinks if I babysit him, he won’t do it again? I’m not his mother.
My hands fidget and I temper my tone. “I care about you as a person, Vane, but I have a life here. Grad school, remember? Romy needs me. I can’t just leave her. I don’t want to. I spent too much time with you, away from her, and she got in some trouble.”
“Bring her.”
“No.”
“You can write anywhere. Give me a chance. All you need is me. We were happy.”
I sit back and stare at him. Were we? Or was I always jumping when he snapped his fingers, supporting him, putting my family on hold? Romy did drugs. My grades suffered. I barely graduated with a decent GPA. He’s always put himself first, his music, his career. He hasn’t once asked how I am.
As if he senses my train of thought, he says, “I took you for granted, but I’ll rebuild our trust.” His throat bobs. “Where’s the girl who fell in love with me in one night?”
That girl was needy and naïve. She was looking for something to fill the void left by the death of her parents. I’m older now. Smarter. “She’s not me.”
He jerks up from the table and paces around, hands clenched.
I rise with him. “I came out of respect for what we had, and because I knew you needed to hear it from me in person. I’m done,” I say softly. “Move on, Vane. Write your beautiful music and become a superstar.”
“I don’t want to.” His voice is dejected as his shoulders slump. “No one gets me like you. You’re real, baby. I could write an entire album with songs just about you.”
I sigh. “Maybe it’s all about fate, about when you meet someone. The timing wasn’t right for us—”
He holds my eyes. “You loved me once—”
“I deserve better,” I say sharply.
A bird chirps in a tree, a car horn sounds somewhere in the distance, and the world turns as he lets my words sink in. He paces back and forth as the silence settles around us.
Whether he accepts it or not, I have. “Your five minutes are up.” I stand and he rushes over to me, his eyes shiny.
He takes my hands. “You’re really not coming back to me?”
Oh, Vane. Never in a million years. “No.”
We stare at each other for a long time. He lets out a long breath, his hands cupping my face. “Baby girl. Whoever he is—because I know there’s someone—I hope he deserves you.”
21
Welcome to Theta’s Man of Mystery! is splashed across a plastic banner hanging over the library door. Underneath is scrawled Talk to a Stranger and Fall in Love. Little hearts dance around the words.
I scoff as I halt, digging my heels in. “No way, girls. Better yet, hell no. Don’t care if I go through a pack of batteries in a week—my bullet is better than some kind of what, speed dating thing?”
“What’s a bullet?” Bambi asks, pulling me by the arm, undeterred.
“Vibrator. Tiny and very effective,” Chantal replies to Bambi, latching onto my other side.
“Oh,” Bambi murmurs thoughtfully. “Are they on Amazon?”
“Yes,” Chantal says. “They come in all colors. Mine is purple.”
“Forget the bullet, girls. Am I a prisoner?” I ask dryly.
“Yes,” they chorus.
“Okay, so let’s see if I have this right: you waited for me after yoga, said you had something I had to see, then you woman-handle me into walking into a trap to meet mystery men? No.”
Bambi smiles, waving her hands at me. “So dramatic. It’s a new event to raise money for a local women’s shelter. Where’s your Theta sense of sisterhood? Your love for helping others? Don’t you want to contribute to the community? More importantly, where’s your intrinsic drive to mate with a hottie?”
“Dead,” I chirp. I had sex with Dillon; I might be good for another eighteen months.
She titters. “We have some sexy applicants. Not surprised—we are the best sorority.” She turns and, as a trio, we do our secret handshake. In the glass reflection of the door, I see the goofy grin on my face.
“And you just might meet someone nice,” Chantal adds.
“I’m in leggings and flip-flops! Worse, I’m sweaty. Also, it’s dark—”
“It’s eight in the evening. God, you’re old,” Chantal says as she elbows me.
“Come on, Serena. You’re bored and lonely.” Bambi pulls my hair out of my ponytail and arranges it around my shoulders. “They can’t see you anyway. It’s like that show The Dating Game, only we made it better. This event is about getting to know someone—without seeing them. You might meet Mr. Right.”
“I’m not lonely.” I haven’t seen or talked to Dillon in four days, and I miss him. I keep expecting him to pop up wherever I am, and he hasn’t. A long sigh slides through my lips.
“As far as I’m aware—and I would know since I’m part of the committee—no football players signed up, so you don’t have to worry about you know who being here, if you were,” Chantal says.
“I wasn’t.”
Bambi pulls out a tiny glass bottle and spritzes me. I bat it away, even though it does smell nice.
“Settle down, it’s just some Louis Vuitton perfume. Free sample in the mail. Score.”
“We did help
