Page 88 of Played
You'll always be dear to me.
—Liza
I read it three times, hating every word, knowing it could blow up in my face. But what choice do I have?
I copy it into an email, add his address.
My finger hovers over send.
This is either brilliant or the stupidest thing I've ever done.
I close my eyes and click.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Downward dog might actually kill me.
I stare at the yoga instructor on my laptop screen—some impossibly flexible woman in matching lavender athleisure—and try to contort my body into the same position. My hamstrings scream in protest.
"Breathe into the stretch," she chirps.
I can barely breathe at all. My hands slip on the mat, and I collapse onto my stomach with a grunt.
This was supposed to help, to quiet the constant buzz in my brain, the fear that's been living in my chest since I hit send on that email three hours ago.
I push myself back up, attempt something calledWarrior Two. My thighs burn. At least the pain distracts from the nausea.
My phone pings.
The sound cuts through me like glass.
I freeze, one arm extended, the other bent behind me in what's probably not even close to correct form. My eyes dart to the phone sitting on the coffee table.
Gmail notification.
No.
My legs give out. I sink onto the mat, crawling toward the phone like it might explode if I move too fast.
Daniel
The name glows on my screen.
My hands shake as I unlock it and scroll to the email. The preview shows only the first line:
Did you really think—
I tap it open.
Did you really think I'm that stupid, Liza? That you could actually manipulate me with your pathetic, transparent little apology? That I wouldn't see right through every single word? I can read you like a fucking book—always could. Every lie that drips from those pretty lips, every calculated word you chose so carefully, every fake sentiment you typed out. You don't mean any of it. Not one goddamn word.
It's too late for forgiveness. You had your chance—so many chances—and you threw them all away. You made your choice when you decided I wasn't good enough for you, when you ran straight into his arms like the desperate little thing you are. You made your bed—now you get to lie in it. With him. For now. Enjoy it while it lasts, sweetheart. Enjoy feeling safe in his house, in his bed, pretending like you've escaped something. Because we both know how temporary that feeling is. We both know you're not the type who gets to keep good things.
But understand this—and I mean really let this sink deep into that pretty little head of yours: I will never, ever forget what you did to me. What you stole from me. What you destroyed—the future we could have had, the life I was building for us, the plans I made—all of it, shattered because of your selfishness, your immaturity, your complete inability to appreciate what was right in front of you. You took everything from me, Liza. My trust, my patience, mygenerosity. All those things I gave you so freely, and you just threw them back in my face like they meant nothing. Like I meant nothing.
And Julian? Oh, sweetheart, he's going to learn too. He's going to understand exactly what kind of chaos you bring into people's lives. What kind of destruction follows you wherever you go. He thinks he's saving you, doesn't he? Playing the hero, the knight in shining armor. But he has no idea what he's gotten himself into. Neither will anyone else who's stupid enough to try to help you, to shelter you, to stand between us. They'll all learn. Every single one of them.
You're not clever. You're not in control. You never were.
