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I’m not.
I drop back down on the closed toilet lid and my head swims.
This can’t be happening.
My phone vibrates on the counter like Killian can sense my emotional disturbance from wherever the fuck he is, but I’m only dimly processing the text as I read it.
“I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“Oh, I’ve got one for you, too,” I tell him.
“We should go out for dinner tonight.”
“I want to stay in,” I tell him.
“Works for me. Then I don’t have to drive home to get dessert,” he says with a wink.
I don’t know if you’re going to like this surprise.
I don’t say that.
I don’t even like this surprise, because this surprise is…
It’s shackles.
It’s a life sentence.
It’s locking me into this arrangement I never wanted to begin with for the next twenty years of my life, because if Killian wanted to trap me…
Well, this was it. This was the way. I’ll never date a man if I’m a single parent because I won’t risk bringing a creep into their life the way my mother did, and since the father of my baby is marrying someone else…
I grab my phone, my lungs closing in, and text Addison. “I think your room might be cursed.”
“Why?” she texts back a moment later.
“Because I am now pulling a Rory Gilmore. I’m freaking out. I don’t know what to do.”
“What’s going on?” she asks.
“I’ve made a mistake. A lot of mistakes.”
A couple of seconds pass, then she asks, “Did you sleep with Killian again? You have to stop that. Put a rubber band on your wrist and snap it every time he swings those big blue eyes your way.”
“It’s so much worse than that,” I tell her.
“Did you kill him?” she asks. “I’ll understand if you did, but maybe don’t text me about it. I can come over later. You have that old rug you didn’t like, right? I’ll help you move it out of the apartment and into my trunk. And we can go on a road trip! To the Florida everglades, for unrelated reasons. We’ll buy some ham and rope. In case we get hungry. We’ll get rid of the rug down there. Then we should hit up Disney on the way home. I’ll buy you a churro to cheer you up.”
“I didn’t kill him.”
“That’s good. My texts about feeding his corpse to gators may not have been vague enough and we’re too pretty to go to prison.”
“I might kill him, I just haven’t yet.”
“Can you do it after Double Ryan night? We can’t cancel that again.”
I appreciate the momentary distraction, but then a swell of nausea brings me right back to reality.
And it’s a reality I simply cannot deal with, so I decide to give myself a breather.
