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Yeah, not being petty at all.
“You are not going to kill him,” I say, putting my gloved hands in front of the heater. “It was my idea to break up.”
To be fair, I was kind of forced into it, but I leave that part out. I really don’t want to ruin their friendship.
Devon grunts.
“Enzo was a perfect gentleman. There wasn’t any big fight or anything. He just . . .” I try to find words for what happened, but it’s hard to do that around the big lump that has formed in my chest. I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing. How his day was. I’ve gotten used to talking to him, if not seeing him, every night.
“He works too much,” Devon guesses. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. “And he lives in New York, while you’re out here.”
But he’s still angry.
I look at Devon’s profile. My big brother, always protective.
“Please don’t be mad at him, Dev. Enzo didn’t do anything wrong. Seriously.”
It would probably be easier if there had been some big blowup. If one of us had stopped caring. Instead, he just picked Angel, Inc. over me. It’s that simple.
“Except date you in the first place. A person would have to be blind not to have seen this coming.”
That stings.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean you.”
He turns the corner, snow dotting every surface from a dusting earlier in the day.
“I knew this would happen, though.”
Yep, I’m starting to regret coming out.
“I guess I was naive to think he could build an empire and carry on a long-distance relationship. But what do I know about billion-dollar businesses? I’m just a small-town schoolteacher.”
So much for not being a bitter Betty.
“Char, don’t.”
I can’t help it. I’ve felt out of my league since the beginning. Because I was out of my league. Maybe Devon’s right—maybe this was inevitable.
I bite my cheeks as they start to tingle. If I cry in front of my brother, he’ll go on a the warpath.
“You arenotjust a small-town schoolteacher. You are an amazing woman who cares more about her students than anyone I know. You’re the one who’s always talking about the third grade benchmark. How it’s your job to make sure your kids can all read as they should so none of them fall through the cracks.”
My chest rises and falls as I listen, unable to answer.
“Maybe if he’d had a teacher like you . . .”
Devon closes his mouth like a crocodile feasting on a fresh fish. He clearly regrets the words, but it’s way too late for him to take them back now.
“What are you talking about?”
We pull onto Mike’s street.
“Nothing. Forget it.” He pulls out his phone to text his friend. When Devon looks up, he finds himself staring down at my besttell me right nowlook.
“You can’t say something like that and then take it back.”
Apparently he can, and he will.
