Page 17 of Another Life

I shudder at the memories that follow—how insatiable his sexual appetite was, how it felt to be conquered by him…how easy it was to let him be in control.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

I end the call without another word, determined to end this “meeting” just as efficiently.

“Why are you here?” I’m still seated, still watching him as if he could disappear at any given moment. We’re both entirely too good at that.

“I won’t pretend this is a coincidence,” he starts, and I cut him off with a laugh that fills the space with its volume.

“And I’m sure the grocery store and restaurant were.” He shoots me a confused look, but I stand, continuing to stuff my things in my desk or bag. “You found your way here, now find your way out.”

I walk into the hallway, past Wilmer’s vacant desk. I was the nice boss, the one who let him go home early more often than not. And now I’m stuck dealing with a part of my past that I’d thought was buried and gone.

“Sabrina,” I hear him call out from behind me, but I make it into the main hallway before he reaches for me.

It’s a touch that I wasn’t sure I’d experience again after the taste of it at the restaurant. One that’d dulled in my memory but snapped right back once his fingers made contact with the bare skin of my arm.

“Why are you here?” I grind out, turning on my heel to point at him. “You think my life stopped and I waited for you? I got married! I had children! I created a future you and I could never have.”

“You’re so angry with me and I don’t understand why.” He steps toward me, his hands now at his sides. The frown that mars his face makes me want to shake him. “You left me,Stellina.”

I shake my head before the statement is fully out of his mouth.

“We both know that isn’t true,” I respond through gritted teeth, angry at his recollection. Because it’s so far from my own.

“I tried?—”

“Youtried?!” I scoff, hoping my hard gaze pierces through his impenetrable shell. The one I tried so damn hard to breakthrough. “Don’t give me that bullshit. Don’tyoudare give me that bullshit.”

The years are warped with disappointment and having to pretend to be a person I never could keep up with. Abraham may’ve been the master of masks, but I’d learned a thing or two from my time with him.

“That’s it. Give me your anger.” His hands twitch and I remember a time when he’d reach out and pull me toward him, forcing me to face the truth. Thankfully, he keeps his hands to himself this time. “Show me how much I still get under your skin.”

I shake my head before turning away from him. Is it running if I walk away? Do I seem like I care less if I speak less?

“You can’t deny it, so why bother trying?” he shouts after me.

“You’re delusional,” I toss over my shoulder. And then I turn to look at him, walking backwards to continue amassing space between us. “Expecting me to pine over you. You can be the greatAbraham Pugliesito the world, but to me you’re just some guy I used to fuck in college.”

I bolt out of there, not looking back, hoping he doesn’t follow me. And when I realize he didn’t as I’m getting in my car, I try to make sense of my frazzled state.

Yes, I was the one who walked away. I was the one who knew that we were doomed to fail in any life we’d try to create for ourselves.

But he was the one who never answered me when I tried to find him.

When I tried to tell him…

It doesn’t matter anymore.

CHAPTER EIGHT

SOON FORGET

PAST

“Μ?τια που δε βλ?πονται, γρ?γορα λησμονιο?νται,” myYiayiasays, and I wish I could erase the fatigue from her tone.

Eyes that aren’t seen, are quickly forgotten.