Down London Road

fucking tell you, would I?’ His voice began to mimic mine, rising in frustration.
    ‘You said you loved her.’
    ‘
Loved
. Past tense.’
    Ignoring his growing impatience, I crossed my arms over my chest and attempted to drive my point home. ‘You didn’t break up because you fell out of love, Cameron. You broke up because you were scared she was going to leave you. You were scared she wasn’t going to choose you and so you walked away first.’
    Anger sparked in his eyes and he took a few steps towards me, bearing down on me. ‘You don’t know shit.’
    For once I wasn’t daunted. I was too pissed off. ‘I know I’m right.’
    Cameron cursed under his breath and looked down at the table where her Kindle was. ‘This conversation is insane.’
    Before I could respond to that non-answer to my non-question, my phone rang. I was about to turn around to pick it up and shut it off when I froze at the look on Cam’s face. His eyes had narrowed on my phone, studying it, it seemed. Gently brushing me aside, he reached to pick it up. As he stared at the screen, his jaw clenched, the muscle in his cheek popping as he lifted furious eyes to my face.
    My heart suddenly began to pound in my chest.
    Cam turned the phone towards me. The screen read MALCOLM CALLING . ‘What’s
he
doing calling you? What? Did you go running off to him at the first sign of trouble?’
    I flinched at the accusation. ‘No. We talk sometimes.’
    Wrong thing to say
. ‘You’ve kept in contact with him and you didn’t tell me?’
    Uh-oh
. I shrugged.
    Cam gave a huff of disbelief. ‘I’m standing here gettinggrilled about Blair and you’ve been keeping Malcolm from me? Why? Why not tell me?’
    I threw up my hands, wondering how on earth the argument had turned on me. ‘Because it doesn’t matter. He’s just a friend.’
    His expression turned glacial, jealousy and anger and
disgust
in his eyes.
    And his next words broke my heart.
    ‘No.
Blair’s
just a friend.
Malcolm’s
a rich fuck who still has a hard-on for you, and he lets you dangle him on a string. Got a problem with me hanging out with Blair? Think I’m keeping her around in case you and I don’t work out? Well, what’s to say you’re not ready to spread your legs for Malcolm if what we have goes south?’
    I guess that’s the problem when you really get to know someone. You learn all their triggers and emotional buttons, and unfortunately, in times of war, you press them. The button Cam pressed had direct access to my tear ducts, and salt water spilled down my cheeks in anguished silence. I took a step away from him, feeling sick. I ignored his remorseful expression, concentrating on those ugly words and what they meant.
    They meant he had never stopped thinking of me as a shallow gold-digger. He’d never believed that I could be more than that. Not really. Did that mean he’d never meant anything he’d said to me?
    The pain wouldn’t allow the silence to hold and I lost control of a sob.
    ‘Fuck, Jo.’ He swore hoarsely, trying to reach for me. ‘I didn’t –’
    ‘Don’t touch me.’ I ripped my phone out of his hands and seized my purse.
    ‘Jo, I didn’t mean it.’ He grabbed my arm. ‘I was just –’
    ‘Let go!’ I screamed in his face, wrenching myself away from him, frightened that if I let him touch me I’d give in to him as I always did. I sagged with grief as I backed away.
    ‘I didn’t mean it.’ His eyes were bright with a panic I couldn’t quite process.
    ‘What are we doing?’ I shook my head. ‘Is this worth it? Is it worth the way I’ve been feeling the last few weeks? I feel raw all the time, like my heart has been laid out on a butcher’s block and you’re hammering away at it. I thought it was me. I didn’t feel smart or interesting enough for you. I kept thinking, “Any minute now he’s going to wake up and wonder what the fuck he’s doing with me.” ’
    Cam sucked in a breath. ‘No –’
    ‘I thought it was me,’ I repeated. ‘That my insecurities were the problem. Not you and Blair. But then last night, you hanging out with her … not telling me, not talking to me about it, expecting that I would be okay with it? And maybe not telling you about Malcolm wasn’t right either. But none of that really matters in the face of this.’ I wiped a hand down my cheek, trying to clear the stream of tears. But as I began to speak again, more poured out. ‘You said you wanted me to see that there was so much