Delaney James seemed to have it all-a Manhattan townhouse, a thriving career as a fashion journalist, and a handsome, high-powered husband, but when he announces he's leaving her, Delaney's picture-perfect life unravels. Heartbroken and in need of a...
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"No!" they both shout in unison.
My lips part as I sigh in mild relief, a smidgeon of panic dissipating.
"We never slept together, Del," Greyson says. "It's nothing like that."
My eyes dart between the two of them. Jo and Greyson didn't sleep together. So, what happened between them?
He says there was no sex involved, but no matter how hard I try, or how many times I close my eyes and shake my head, I can't erase the image of them together. I can't unsee it.
"Delaney, I'm so sorry. I've been telling –"
"Stop!" I shout at her. My hands shake as I run my fingers through my hair, and I don't have to look in a mirror to know my eyes are wide and wild. If it's not about Hannah, and it's not about them getting together behind my back, what the hell is it about? What have they been keeping from me? "What is going on?"
"Delaney," Greyson starts, taking a step toward me. "Why don't we let Jo get Hannah home and then you and I can sit down and talk. Just the two of us. I'll tell you everything."
Fear and anger knot inside of me. "I don't want to sit down. I want you to tell me right now."
"Okay, but –"
"Go ahead, Jo," I interrupt him, looking at my best friend. "You've been wanting to tell me for months, right? Well, Greyson won't be honest, so here's your chance."
"I'm sorry." Panic, stark and vivid, glitter in her violet eyes. "I want to, but it's not my story to tell. You need to hear it from Greyson."
I huff a mocking laugh. "So, what? You just thought you'd blow up my life and my relationship by telling me you two share a secret and then decide you don't want to be a part of the reveal?"
"Oh, kind of like how you blew up both our lives when you disappeared for ten years without so much as a 'fuck you'? Or how you blew them up when you came back to town and expected everyone to accept you and forget about all the hurt you'd caused?" she asks, bitterness in her voice.
I stop pacing and slowly turn toward her. "Excuse me?"
"You're standing here playing the martyr because you're in the dark about something that happened two years ago, but have you thought about the fact that the reason you don't know anything is because you never reached out to either of us? Not in ten years."
Her curt voice lashes at me, each vicious word striking me like leather whip. She's clearly still hurt because of what I did, but I can't keep apologizing to everyone for the way I left. I thought we hashed this out. I thought she'd forgiven me
I'm like a pot ready to boil over as anger rolls inside of me. I'm angry because no one will tell me the truth. I'm angry because they kept this from me to begin with, but mostly, I'm angry because Jo is absolutely right. My wounded ego and hurt feelings are just too strong to admit it.
