Page 47 of Don't Cross Mo Ellery

“I love you!” I gasp.

And that’s when hestops.

He gophers his head up from between my legs.

“Why are you stopping?!” I cry.

Chris frowns. “Did you just say youloveme?”

“For god’s sake,don’t stop now!”

He slides my legs off his shoulders and looks away as he hands me my dress. I don’t even know what to do with it for a moment—it’s like my rational mind has been completely scrambled.

“You should probably get dressed,” he says, avoiding eye contact.

“But... I thought you wanted...” I awkwardly reposition my legs so they’re facing forward again and hold the dress up in front of me like a bath towel.

I thought you wanted me.

He shrugs his shirt back on and sighs. “I don’t get it, Mo. Aren’t we past all that?” he says. “I thought your text was just about some fun breakup sex.”

“Past allwhat?” I say indignantly, pulling my head through the neck of my dress. Then I freeze. “Wait, what text?”

He shoves his phone at me.

Mo:What do you say we get outta here and go to pound town?

Oh.

Balls.

I hand the phone back and muster up as much dignity as I possibly can for this next bit. “Right,” I say. “I can explain that. I must have accidentally sent it when I dropped my phone in the coffin.”

He goes a pale green color again. Really, for a doctor, he’s awfully squeamish.

“But, Chris, listen,” I continue. “Wasn’t that fun? Funeral hijinks and steamy, albeitunfinishedcar sex? You can’t deny that we make a great team.”

Chris sighs, puts the car in gear, and without looking at me, says, “I’ve actually just started seeing somebody. Casual. But still.”

It feels like I just got punched in the stomach.

And then I’m shrugging my dress back on as he drives out of the parking lot, kicking off the most awkward forty-five-minute car ride known to man.

He couldn’t have waited to say that as he was dropping me off?

Because now I have to ask who it is, and of course he won’t tell me, he’ll just say, “you don’t know her,” which is how I’ll know Idoknow her, and it’s probably another doctor, and then I’ll have to ugly cry as I think of all the ways she’s cooler or smarter or hotter than me, and just imagining it is all so humiliating I can’t even work up the nerve to actually ask the question out loud.

I’ve almost psyched myself up to say something mature and selfless by the time we pull up in front of my building, but as he puts the car in park, he clears his throat. “I think we should take a break.”

“What?” I blurt incredulously. “How could we be anymoreon a break, Chris?”

The absolute coward looks away. “I mean, I think we shouldn’t talk for a while.”

I bite my lip until I know my voice won’t crack, and then I give him a very inappropriate two thumbs-up. “If that’s what you want,” I say. “Thanks for the ride.”

The dogs and I slink out of the car and walk-of-shame ourselves right into the building without even pretending to hide, because frankly, I can’t bring myself to care about Roy seeing us. It would still be the fourth-worst thing that’s happened today.

But the god of breakups throws me a bone; there’s a note tapedto Roy’s door. “On Vacation! Call Sheila (my mom) if you need something.”