Bitter Kisses (It's Just High School #3) - Thandiwe Mpofu Page 0,98

me why you are here, Roxy? You don’t seem like the type to visit the sick or pray for the struggling. So, why are you really here?”

“And if I say I came to see you?”

“I’d add liar to your docket, and I honestly don’t want to do that because I feel like you’ve been honest with me so far.”

“I’m not a liar,” she says with so much venom, I almost reel back.

Love and lies… she can’t just react to both the way she didn’t without a reason. But what else would make a girl like her hate love other than lies?

“I can see that,” I mutter. “But you’re also not honest, are you?”

We hold each other’s gaze, and for the first time I think Roxy is just a girl after all, not some untouchable goddess with too much power.

“If you knew who you are now, you’d know we’re just the same,” she says.

“Are we?” I mutter.

“I’d think so.”

“I’d be honest about why I’m here,” I say.

“Would you, Mia?” she whispers. “You were tight-lipped about your mother’s ALS for years, you never told a soul.”

Ah fuck.

“Do you want me to guess then?” I say, straightening my shoulder. “You said you were here today which means you were here the whole day and now it’s late. I’m pretty sure if it was for gossip, you’d be in your bed right now, tweeting your findings to your little friends but instead, you’re here. Why is that, Roxy?”

“Mia…”

“Someone you know, no, someone you know and love, is sick.”

She flinches.

“Am I wrong?”

“Wrong?” she laughs humorlessly, turning her back on me as she heads to the door. “Why else do people come to hospitals, Mia?”

“To ambush recovering messes and ask them if they love their enemies or not, right after they reveal devastating news, of course.”

She stops and looks back at me, a look of genuine sincerity on her face. “I am sorry about the ballet gig, Mia, I know you wanted to do it for your mom.”

“Are you convinced now? About Liam?” I question, feeling annoyed with her.

“Honestly?” I nod. “I’ll be convinced when I see it.”

“So, then you’re not sorry.”

At that, she smiles and winks at me. “I guess then that you wouldn’t mind.”

“Mind?” I don’t like the look on her face now. Gone is the glimpse of her humanity I thought I saw. The vulnerability, the emotions, all of it is gone, replaced now by a look that makes my stomach tighten and drop like I’m on a rollercoaster ride to hell. “What do you mean?”

“You wouldn’t mind a marriage, would you?”

And there it is. I already know before ask.

“A marriage?” I whisper brokenly. She smiles, her beautiful face transforming into something angelic and hellish all at the same time.

“Yes,” she says softly, then turns around and takes a step out the door, but before she closes it, she looks over her shoulder at me is a diva-esque fashion. “Between Julian and well, me.”

And then she’s gone, the door closing softly behind her which is ironic because I swear, that soft click is the same sound my heart made the moment her words sunk in with a remembered conversation I had with Courtney before Nicky told me to run.

Paralyzed, I slowly lie back on the bed and for the first time since I woke up in the morning I was kidnapped and then in a freezer, buck-ass naked, I bawl my eyes out, clutching my chest with only one thought in mind.

After everything, every kiss, every look, every sacrifice I’ve made for him, he was never mine.

Chapter Thirty

Julian

Hours later, it’s around three in the morning.

Cole is asleep on the couch and Liam popped out hours ago with the promise of coming back later.

Feeling restless and almost claustrophobic, I ring the emergency bell. A nurse pops her head in, a small, sympathetic smile on her face.

“Can you ask that cop to uncuff me? I’d like to use the bathroom.”

“Of course, Mr. Fitzgerald.”

I hear her talk to the cop and then they both come in, laughing about something. The cop uncuffs my hand from the bar and then quickly turns his attention on the nurse and doesn’t spare me a glance. It doesn’t take much to recognize that they’re flirting with each other.

I watch as they leave the room, presumably to give me privacy. I slowly get down from the bed, bypassing the wheelchair, hating this fucking stage of pathetic I’ve apparently scaled, I make my way to the bathroom and then do my business.

Frustrated,

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