Page 73 of Everything But Mine

He scrambled to his feet. In the chaos I caught another glimpse of him, the condom still on, streaked and used with his cum pooling at the tip. He shoved her away and pulled himself together so quickly she stumbled, and he nearly tripped over her.

That was all it took.

I let everything fall. The container of chicken hit the floor with a dull, heavy thud. Soda spilled instantly, soaking through my sneakers. I didn’t wait to see what he would say or do next.

I turned and ran.

I ran out of his apartment, out into the street, straight into a cab.

And then I ran even farther, all the way to Italy and into other men’s arms. Anything to forget the look of complete bliss on his face as he came inside someone else. Right at the moment I believed we had finally chosen each other. Because the truth tasted so bitter on my tongue. Eric might be everything but he’d never be mine.

I don’t realize I’m shaking until Eric cups my cheeks. The touch is devastating in its gentleness. His eyes bear into mine as if the thought of me reliving that night makes him physically ill. He is pale and sweaty, so maybe it does.

“I don’t know how to get us to move past what I did,” he whispers.

“I don’t know either,” I answer. Eric’s betrayal tore my heart into pieces. “But Eric, as my friend, you have to hear this. People do bad things. Doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.”

“Don’t give me a fucking cookie-cutter quote to make me feel better.” His words come out scraped. “I cheated on you. I broke us.”

I shake my head. “No, Eric.” This is my mantra when I want to yell at him and ask him how he could. This is what I tell myself when even being around him makes me feel ravenous for everything I’ll never have. “We kissed, but I was leaving. We weren’t together, I’m younger than you and… I felt that kiss too deeply. Read too much into it.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it, Amanda.” Silent tears run down his cheeks. “I’m not even three years older than you. We both knew what the kiss meant.”

Anger prickles up my spine and it coats my words. “So you cheated on me within twenty-four hours?”

His nostrils flare, and he grumbles. “What I did is what I did.”

He’s never argued about doing wrong. Still, his admission and regret don’t make it palatable, but his words do help the tension ebb and dissipate in the silence that follows.

“There are still things I’d like you to know about what that night did to me,” Eric whispers, leaning in so his breath falls on my nose.

I nod and wait.

Pink rises on his cheeks. “Not now. It’s embarrassing. I want you to come with me to this… professional. I want more.” His throat works thickly. “And I’ve been working on interrupting self-destructive thought patterns so I can have that.”

I drag my bottom lip between my teeth. It’s becoming hard to hide that maybe I want more too. Eric has a therapist. He’s self-conscious about it, but that’s… huge.

“This professional of yours sounds like Val.”

He chuckles.

“I’m really proud of you for seeking help.”

He avoids my eyes and scratches the back of his neck. “You are?”

“Yes.”

He snakes behind my neck and massages my scalp. “Amanda.” His gaze flutters to my midsection. “Does this change anything between us?”

His fingers on his other hand twitch. Diego’s revelation, his father’s words leading to Eric’s unraveling… Is this baby adding more pressure than he’s ready for? Since he said he wanted to be a father to my kid, he hasn’t backtracked—not once. When it comes to us, though…

“You hurt me.”

“I know.” He lowers his eyebrows, though he keeps them from creasing, as he shifts and buries his fingers behind my neck. “Nothing excuses what I did. I want to show you who I can be now.”

I close my eyes and savor the movement of Eric’s fingers through my hair, and the wake of goose bumps they leave as far as my thighs. Now that I’ve imagined raising this baby with Eric, I can’t imagine doing it without him. In the seconds I’ve taken to respond, he’s inched his hand closer to my middle.

“I still want this.” I grab his hand and place it at the thickest part of my stomach. “Unless it changes things for you.” I hold my breath.