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SKYE

Four weeks ago

“We are over, Owen.”

He stares at me in disbelief.

I repeat myself, ensuring he gets the message. “Did you hear me? I said, we are over, Owen.”

“What do you mean, over?” He pulls his shoulders up toward his ears to prevent the rain from entering the neckline of his jacket.

Crossing my arms across my chest, I spell it out for him. “O.V.E.R. Over, Owen. We are through. Kaput. Finito. I am so done with your… shit.” I hate swearing, but he’s annoying me.

“My shit?”

“Yes, your shit. Your lack of interest in me. That shit .” I let out an exasperated sigh, angry at myself now for swearing three times in about ten seconds. “Tonight was your last chance. You made me a promise to try harder, but you broke it.” The shadow from my outside light shines down on his face, highlighting the deep circles under his eyes. He looks tired. “I spent four hours preparing dinner for you. Where have you been?”

“I’m sorry, baby. Please. I lost track of time. You’re the only good, normal part of my life. Please don’t do this. I’m fucking begging you, Skye. Don’t end us.” He sounds desperate.

“We can’t keep doing this,” I sigh, slowly shaking my head back and forth. “We need to stop kidding ourselves that this is what we both want.” I bite my lip, considering if I should say what I’ve been holding in, but decide he deserves my honesty. “We were just kids when we started dating, but we’ve become each other’s comfort blanket and that’s not healthy. There is no passion or love. Where is the spark? The wining and dining? The thoughtfulness? There is nothing between us other than friendship, Owen, and you know that.”

“Please, please. Don’t do this to me.” His hand clutches his chest as if I’d physically wounded him with my words. “I am genuinely sorry. I just have fuck tons of crap going on at the moment with my mom and dad.”

“But how am I supposed to know that if you never talk to me, Owen?”

Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he lets out a deep, long defeated sigh.

“I’m worried about you, but I can’t help if you refuse to open up to me. You’ve had years to talk to me. I’ve been right here.”

His mouth draws into a thin line as if he’s fighting to keep the words inside.

“Fine,” I huff frustratedly. “If you won’t tell me, it shows me you don’t trust me or care for me, if you ever did.”

“Skye, you’ve got me all wrong. I do care for you. I’m always here for you.”

I laugh. “On Monday, you stood me up at the gym. The gym, for Christ’s sake. You barely remembered it was my birthday this year until Jacob reminded you.”

Owen grinds his teeth, making his jaw twitch as I continue to deliver my list of grievances.

“You failed to pick me up from work when my car was in for a service yesterday.” At least he’s consistently crap; I’ll give him ten out of ten for that.

“You should have called me.” He frowns.

“I did,” I say matter-of-factly. “Five times.”

He never answers his phone when I call him, and he very rarely texts me back. I never seem to be worthy of his time, even though he’s never off his phone.

“You only turn up when you want to sleep with me or when your friends are busy.”

“It’s not like that,” he sighs sadly, as if he can sense the weight of my words and the finality of my decision.

Feeling my patience wear thin, my voice raises a few octaves. “Yes, it is. You made every excuse to wriggle yourself out of coming to my nana’s eightieth birthday party last month. You have never come to my parents’ house for Sunday dinner, and we’ve been dating, if that’s what you can call it, on and off for fourteen years.” I bang my hand against the wall, making him jump. “You don’t care about me or my family. And why did my invitations to your parents’ fancy parties stop? I’m clearly not what they want for you, but you have never had the balls to tell me.” I suck in a deep breath. “Be honest with yourself. You know it’s over. I deserve better.”

“Shit,” he sighs breathlessly and tips his head toward the night sky, letting the rain bounce off his handsome face. “I blew it with you, didn’t I?” His shoulders deflate. “I let my parents get into my head.”

“You did. But it’s over.”

He shakes his head and then grabs the back of his neck. “Fuck.” His frustration echoes around the empty cobbled street.

“You had better go home before you catch a chill.”

“Can I not come in? For five minutes, please? Just to chat?” His eyes plead with me.

“Just go home.” I fake-smile. “You’re not the only one at fault here, and it wasn’t all bad. We did have lots of laughter and fun when we were younger, but it’s done… whatever this has been between us, it’s over. You need to leave. Night, Owen. See you around, yeah?”