I wanted to leave. Go back to my place, lick my wounds, but I stood there on that cold sidewalk shivering. I almost considered walking home like this, until the biting cold reminded me that no matter how upset I was, my ass was going to freeze out here without a coat. But when I turned to do the walk of shame back to the crowded restaurant to get it, I almost crashed into Easton. He was standing there with my coat, scarf and hat in his hand.

He stepped up to me and when I saw his face, he looked wrecked.

“I’m sorry.”

I wanted to be able to push him away, to act like I didn’t give a shit about whatever it was that had happened in there. But instead I did the one thing that I swore I’d never do ever again. I let Easton know how much he’d hurt me.

“So, you know me now?” I asked, shoving my arms into my coat, and feeling so fucked up I could barely untangle what was going on with me.

“Patrice, just let me explain—”

I shook my head, and tried hard not to raise my voice. “I don’t need you to explain to me what I already saw. It’s all well and good until the disapproving parents are around, huh?” I said, snapping my head up and down. “Good to know.”

I walked away leaving him there. I had turned the corner to head home, to the building Easton fucking owned, when I heard him yelling after me. “Patrice, wait. Fuck.”

Instead of ignoring him like I wanted to, my fucking feet would not move, so I stood there, waiting for him. I opened my mouth to let him know again that I wasn’t doing this with him. But as soon as he got within a few feet from me he started talking.

“Let me talk. Please.” He was begging me, and fuck if I could do anything other than stand there quietly, hoping that whatever he said gave me enough of an excuse not to give him up.

He raised a hand toward the restaurant, an agonized expression on his face. “You saw how they are. That’s how my father talks to people. Like he’s entitled to say whatever he wants. And my mother’s—” His face twisted in a distasteful expression. “If I would’ve said you and I were together it would’ve been worse.” He exhaled in frustration, and when I looked closely I saw how embarrassed and hurt he looked. “This is how they are. My father lives to disapprove of everything I do, and my mother never calls him on any of it.” He ran his fingers over his eyes and answered before I could ask what that meant.