I wince, hearing him talk about the other women that may have propositioned him while we were together and referencing the time that he cheated on me. I want to retort that it hasn’t been going on for that long, but hasn’t it? My relationship with Jacob wasn’t as simple as something that could be defined by anything we’ve done this past week. “I didn’t do this as some sort of retaliation, Parker. I was really hurt by what you did, just as I’m sure you’re hurt now. I just… it’s complicated.”

He chuckles darkly. “That’s what people say when they try to rationalize the shitty things they do to other people. It’s not fucking complicated not to screw someone else over, Whitney.”

“I know and I—”

“I think I already advised you to get the fuck out of my house, why the fuck are you still here?”

I hear my phone begin to ring again and I know we are probably one more missed phone call from Jacob coming to look for me and if I didn’t know Parker came home early, Jacob surely wouldn’t expect it.

“I really am sorry, Parker.” Tears slide down my cheeks and I’m not sure if it’s out of guilt or sadness or anger. Anger at myself for getting myself in this situation, anger at Jacob for leaving me in the first place and anger at Parker for being at the wrong place at the right time and falling in love with me. For convincing me that I was capable of loving anyone as wholly and completely as I loved Jacob. Parker and I were always on borrowed time because somewhere in the depths of my heart, I knew I would find my way back to Jacob.

I swallow down the tears that I feel coming on knowing that I’ve changed Parker’s life only to turn it upside down in the blink of an eye.

Guilt.

Hearing his visceral reaction to this and the hatred he’s spewing right now is a bitter pill. I wasn’t someone that would normally take this kind of nastiness, but I’m struggling with fighting back when I did this. I broke us. Him.

Sadness.

“Don’t even try to start crying, Whitney. Just go.” He growls and I stand up, preparing to grab my purse and my bag with my laptop, not knowing what to do about all my clothes and belongings upstairs. I look toward the stairs, contemplating packing a bag when I hear his voice again.

“Leave your shit.”

I turn around and look at him. “What?”

He nods toward the bag in my hand that has my laptop inside. “I bought you that MacBook.”

I blink at him. “Okay?” I ask, wondering how that was even relevant.

“That watch on your wrist.” He points.

“You… want all the stuff back that you gave me?”

He nods.