What’s his problem, she thought, putting the kettle on and opening a drawer. She selected a chamomile blend from the selection of packaged tea bags and tore open the paper. Now he’s gonna pretend he loved me? What BS is that? He told me he didn’t, then he told me I’m not fit to be a mother. He kept giving me the thumbs-down while I was facing the fight of my life, then he got feelings for my best friend, and now he’s gonna pretend it’s my fault it didn’t work out?
“When did everyone go completely crazy, I wonder?” she whispered to herself, pouring in the water and dipping the teabag in and out of the cup.
She heard footsteps and turned around. There he was, the tall, dark and handsome James, looking slightly awkward and melancholic—just like the first time she saw him. She frowned and turned back to her tea, pushing the memories of her early attraction to him out of her mind.
None of that shit, no thank you.
He moved closer. As she was about to demand what his problem was, he put his arms around her and rested his chin on her head.
“James, what are you up to?” She forced a laugh and tried to pull away, pushing against his chest.
His arms tightened, keeping her trapped. “Hey, hey, I know,” he said gently into the top of her head. She could feel him trembling and hoped he wasn’t crying. “This is goodbye.”
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