Page 42 of We Own Each Other

It had been days.

We did not need to text when he had so easily melded into my life. Looking around my apartment now, there were little bits and bobs of him everywhere.

His jacket was hanging on the back of my desk chair. A coffee-stained mug was perched dangerously on the edge of my sink from the day before. Without even looking, I knew there was a pack of his energy drinks in my fridge. We hadn’t known each other long, but in that short time, he had made it seem as if he had always been here.

But now he was gone entirely.

I clambered further up onto my bed, ready to bury my head in my pillow and wait for tomorrow to figure out how I was going to deal with Luke’s stuff, when I found a stray hair on the pillow next to mine. It was bright red — unmistakably Luke’s.

I couldn’t hold back. I let out a whimper, snatching his pillow from its spot and clutching it to my chest. I hadn’t had the chance to tell him, but I loved him. I truly had fallen in love with him.

And it had all ended before I ever got the chance to say it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE WEEK FLEW by. Before I knew it, it was Thursday, and I was hastily marching my way down block after block until I reached the restaurant. It was only 1 in the afternoon, but waiting that last hour was going to be agony in my lonely apartment. I had spent the morning cleaning, which amounted to picking up Luke’s things, holding back tears, and then consolidating everything into a corner to eventually return to him.

When all was said and done, our entire relationship amounted to a bag of dirty laundry, a toothbrush, some lilac-scented shampoo, some energy drinks, and a box of instant coffee.

That pile of essentially nothing was a painful reminder of just how little time we had together — and also how much that short amount of time meant to me, more than many years combined.

There was no escaping it. I had never once been uncomfortable living in a studio, but living with my ex-boyfriend’s small pile of stuff and having nowhere to hide it made the cons glaringly obvious. I eventually tossed everything in the bathroom to keep it out of sight… until I had to use the restroom.

Ultimately, the best course of action was to just go on ahead and get a table at the restaurant. I would inevitably have to deal with the annoyed stares of the waiters as I lingered far past what was socially acceptable, but I just couldn’t be caged with the memories of Luke any longer.

To my surprise, though, as I wandered into the restaurant, my eyes immediately found a fluffy tuft of pink hair. Their backs were to me, but I had no doubt who they were. The two were laughing as Noah held a forkful of pasta to Anthony’s lips. It was a peaceful scene of two people clearly in love, and here I was, once again ready to ruin it all.

But much to my disgust, I found myself more jealous of their peaceful relationship than guilty over the disruption I was about to cause.

I could very well turn around and give them their peace, or what little time they had left of it, but just as I was about to do so, Anthony’s shimmering violet gaze suddenly lit on me.

He awkwardly took the forkful of pasta into his mouth and chewed, all while motioning me over. I meandered toward the table, Noah finally peering over his shoulder to see me. Instantly, his face fell into an intense frown, and he flipped around to ignore my existence as long as he could until I took the seat across from Anthony.

Sheepish under their stares, I sank down into my seat before half-heartedly laughing:

“Sorry. I didn’t think you guys would be here so early.”

Noah growled, draping his arm across Anthony’s shoulders.

“We wanted to eat before this conversation.”

The message was loud and clear: they probably wouldn’t have been able to stomach anything in my presence. I swallowed, finding some reprieve as the waiter approached our table to ask if I wanted anything.

I certainly wouldn’t be eating anything, my stomach twisting up in knots. So, I just asked for a glass of water. As soon as the waiter left, I was plunged into awkward silence, forced to bask in the presence of those who would prefer I wasn’t there.

We remained in that silence until the waiter came back with my water. He asked if I wanted anything else, which I declined; then he picked up my tablemates’ half-eaten plates before leaving us to our devices for the foreseeable future.

Only then did they get right to it. Noah, unsurprisingly, started the conversation.

With an intensity only possible from a superior Dom, his words dripped with contempt as he asked:

“When you saw Anthony in the store, did you know who he was?”

I shook my head.

“Not really. I could guess based on who you were, but I wasn’t sure.”

His eyes narrowed.