Page 17 of Love Unwritten

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Page 17 of Love Unwritten

“Yes, but I’m not getting anywhere with him.”

“Maybe you should try again.”

“What’s the point? He always finds a way to reject me.”

Awareness dawns on her. “Oh, Rafa. I’m sorry.”

The pity in her voice makes my stomach churn, filling me with shame. “Forget I said anything.”

Her skin blanches. “I wish I could tell you more. I really do.”

“Has he…said anything to you?”

Her face loses some of its color. “Not really.”

“That’s not a no.”

“No, but it’s not a yes either. We don’t talk much about you.”

Somehow, her attempt at making me feel better backfires, only adding to my growing frustration. “So much for you being able to help.”

“Hey. I understand you’re angry, but—”

“Angry? You think this is me being angry?” My sensibility goes out the window, along with any self-preservation. “My son barely wants to spend time with me anymore. Whenever I try—whether it’s reading a book together, watching a movie, or playing video games—he shuts down and pushes me away, and do you know who he asks for instead?”

She fails to meet my eyes. “Me?”

“Yes,” I hiss. “And how do you think that makes me feel?” I don’t bother to shield my loathing. I’m not sure who I’m more frustrated with—her or me—but the rage and helplessness become all-consuming as I direct them straight at her.

“It makes me hate you.” Speaking the words into existence feels wrong. My aunt taught me not to hate anyone, including my parents, but I can’t think of any other way to describe the burning pang in my chest whenever I look at Ellie. Jealousy, rage, and shame seem to manifest as some weird case of heartburn that no bottle of antacid can fix.

“Is that how you really feel about me?” Her monotonous tone grates on my nerves.

“Yes,” I say with slightly less confidence.

She takes so long to respond, I begin to question if she ever will.

“I don’t think you do, because if that were the case, you would’ve fired me.”

I cover up the fact that I am impressed by her honesty with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

Another long pause follows before she speaks again. “Regardless of your misguided anger toward me, I do care about helping you with your relationship with Nico.”

“Why?”

“Because deep down, I know you’re a good guy, even if you try your hardest to prove the exact opposite.”

I feel like Ellie laid me out on an operating table and cut me open, revealing all the broken parts I keep hidden. Truth is, I was a good guy, which became a weakness and a liability rather than a badge of honor. There is a reason nice guys always finish last, and it’s usually because everyone gets ahead by walking all over them.

I drop my gaze as shame snakes its way through me, squeezing every ounce of confidence from my body.

With a sigh, Ellie stands, and I brace myself for her departure like I deserve, only to be stunned when she walks around the coffee table and takes a seat beside me. Our thighs graze, sending a lick of heat up my leg.

I’ve never been this close to her before. I made sure to prevent any opportunity that would lead to this kind of proximity, and a quick inhale reminds me why. Ellie smells like fresh-picked strawberries and a hint of Nico’s favorite bath bomb, and it screws with my head and my heart all at the same time as I take another deep breath.

I’ve always had this…interest in her. Every time I dropped Nico off for his music lessons at The Broken Chord, Ellie’s eyes would light up to match her bright smile, temporarily stunning me. I’m pretty sure she chalked up my silence and general broodiness as part of my personality, and while she wasn’t wrong, she was partially to blame too.

Whatever attraction I felt toward her quickly transformed into something far less desirable as time went on and my relationship with my son became more strained.




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