My emotions swirled and surged as I listened to her ramble nervously to Denny. Maybe I should have fought through the discomfort and left them alone to talk, because hearing the emotion, seeing the connection…it was too much. But still, I couldn’t leave…I had to know what she said. Folding my arms over my chest, I wondered how long I could put up with this torture.

Kiera blinked back tears, killing me with her emotional response. “Thank you, Denny…for remembering. That was incredibly sweet of you.” She flushed with color, and I had to avert my eyes. Jesus, this hurt. My throat tightened with pain. Would she forgive me if I reached over and hung up the phone? Maybe I could make it look like an accident. It wouldn’t change anything, but it would be extremely satisfying.

She softly repeated, “Thank you, Denny,” and I reached my breaking point. I couldn’t stay anymore, couldn’t listen to this fucking shit anymore. It was like we were back there again, like it was happening all over again. My chest felt like it was cracking open, pain seeping around the edges. I’d been so sure I’d never have to feel this way again. How fucking stupid of me.

I took a step away from Kiera, and she grabbed my arm. I stopped, but I still couldn’t bring myself to look at her. It felt like invisible claws were ripping apart my insides, like I was bleeding internally. Would this pain ever truly go away?

Kiera laughed, the sound like a dagger to my heart, then she told Denny, “Yeah, I’ll be certain to do that.” My entire body went taut with tension. I wanted to flee, wanted to run. Kiera’s hand on me was the only thing keeping me in place, but even still, a part of me wanted to shrug her off and get out of there—get out of the house, possibly out of the city. If Denny hadn’t broken up with her, would they still be together?

Needing to redirect my thoughts, I stared at the coffeepot on the counter. Coffee. The only thing left in the world was coffee. As I let nothing but the black liquid in the carafe touch my mind, my heart, I felt Kiera’s fingers stroke my skin in a soothing pattern. It relaxed me. Somewhat. The what ifs didn’t matter. He had given her up, and she was mine now. We weren’t back there again. Things were different.