Page 30 of His Turn

“Congratulations.”

‘“Thank you,” I say. He won’t ruin my night. Ever again.

“I think about you all the time.”

I sigh into the phone. “It’s over, Logan. It was fun, and then it wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to…”

“You’ve told me that a million times. I don’t care what your intentions were. OK? I don’t care. I left and now it’s over.”

“You can’t just… walk out like that, Nadia.”

“You’re breaking the terms of the restraining order, Logan.”

“Fuck that restraining order,” he spits.

I press end, block his number, and turn my phone off. I won’t go back to that bullshit. Ever. He can just fuck off. Him, and Bricman, and, hell, even Jordan. All of them. Every man on the planet. They can all just fuck off.

My tea kettle begins to whistle softly. But I’m stuck here. On the couch. In the past. In another life and this one, all wrapped up into one fucked-up package.

By the time I force myself to get up and go back into the kitchen, the kettle is screaming at me.

I turn the flame off and the whistle fades away.

Just like that life I had. It fades away.

I don’t make a cup of tea. I turn out all the lights, take two sleeping pills, set my alarm for five AM, and climb into bed.

He can’t ruin my night if I end it.