Page 138 of How To Not Need You

That shuts me up.

Annoying.

“You had a key. You’d said you were coming back to feed Hades. Your charger was sitting there. If I’d stopped for thirty seconds and actually thought about it, I probably would’ve realised it was you.”

I pick at the edge of the step. “And then what?”

“I would’ve called you.”

“And said what? Just a heads-up, my ex-wife might answer the door half naked?”

His mouth twitches. “Probably would've worded it differently.”

“Coward.”

“But yeah. Something like that.”

I hate how reasonable he’s being.

It would be much easier if he got defensive. Then I could get angry. I’m excellent at angry.

This?

This requires self-reflection.

Disgusting.

“I could’ve asked her,” I say.

Jake doesn't say anything.

“I could’ve just stood there for another ten seconds and asked why she was in your house.”

Still nothing.

“Or called you.”

“You could have.”

“Or answered one of your approximately four thousand messages.”

“It was six.”

I look at him. “You counted them?”

“Yes.”

Fuck.

I look back at the yard. “Instead, I ran.”

“Yeah.”

“You don't have to agree that quickly.”

“Sorry.”

“No, you're not.”