Your Regret Looks Pathetic

"Get out if you don't want to die!" I'd gone with my best friend to catch her boyfriend cheating, and in a hotel room I found Everett.

He kept one hand over the face of the woman in the bed while he snarled the threat at us. My best friend pulled me toward the door immediately.

But I froze at the foot of the bed and didn't back up a single step. Because I was Everett's real girlfriend. Chapter 1 "Hold on." Everett's voice cut in and stopped us.

He took his time lighting a cigarette, blew out a slow ring of smoke, and let his eyes settle on me. "If any video from tonight gets out, I don't care who posted it.

It's on you." "Rebecca, are you listening?" He said my name, his voice still lazy from the sex. "Don't go pulling anything behind my back.

It's annoying." The second his voice stopped, I let out a sudden low laugh. In the quiet of the hotel room it came out a little harsh.

Paloma was hiding behind me, yanking frantically at the hem of my shirt, panicked and sweating. I knew what she meant. She wanted me out of there first, argument later.

Everett's family had money and connections, and he had manic episodes. If he really turned vicious, he didn't care whether you were a man or a woman.

And from how hard he was protecting that woman— Paloma was genuinely afraid I'd come out of it worse if I made a scene. But I didn't want to go. I hadn't done anything wrong.

I was in the right.

There was no reason for me to back down, and I didn't want to back down. "Everett, you're so sure of yourself it's actually confusing me." I pushed Paloma's hand away, planted myself in front of him, and pulled my mouth into a sneer. "I'm curious.

Which one of us is the cheater here, you or me?" Who exactly had just gotten caught in bed in a hotel room?

Wasn't it Everett, naked, propped against the headboard with his aftersex cigarette?

Or was it me, the one who'd burst in with her shoes still on? "What are you playing at?" What are you being so vicious about?

You did the wrong thing—so why are you the one threatening me? My hands were clenched tight and my voice was shaking so hard it came out wrong.

Even as I screamed at myself inside not to lose ground.

But when I looked down and saw Everett curled protectively over the woman at his side, holding her there, my eyes stung anyway.

I dragged out another mocking smile, tasted something sour all through my mouth, and my hands wouldn't stop shaking. "I'm your fucking girlfriend, the real one!" I shouted it at him, eyes red. "You don't want me to look?

Then I'm going to look!" "She had it in her to pull this shit, but she can't show her face?" The second the words were out I lunged at the woman who'd stayed hidden this whole time, clawing at the sheet like a lunatic to get a look at her.

Even if it killed me, I wanted to know who I'd lost to. I moved too fast, too suddenly, and it clearly startled him.

But he recovered fast, his face went cold, and he grabbed the back of my collar and hauled me backward.

The instant I lost my balance and went back, Everett brought his foot up and drove it into my stomach without holding anything back.

The kick sent me over and straight down onto the floor.

Pain tore up my tailbone and ripped a scream out of me. "Everett." My eyes were red and my voice shook from the pain, but I kept looking at him and got it out one word at a time. "I'm the one who's your girlfriend." Chapter 2 "So?" Impatience had already surfaced on his face.

He frowned down at me and asked, "Rebecca, is cheating against the law?" "What—what did you say?" My mind went blank. I couldn't think at all.

I stared at his beautiful mouth and pulled my face into a smile uglier than crying. "Everett, what did you say?

What do you mean by that?" What normal person with a conscience asks a question like that? Everett wasn't even looking at me.

He was busy asking the person under the covers, in a low voice, whether she was okay.

Only after she nodded and answered in a soft little voice that she was fine— only then did he let out a breath and have time to put his eyes back on me.

In the second our eyes met, I looked into all that cold in them and felt every bit of strength go out of me. Everett and I had known each other five years, been together three.

I knew him too well. Well enough that from one look— I knew it clearly: the man in front of me didn't seem to love me anymore.

When he looked at me there was no laughter hidden in his eyes the way there used to be. There was a thick, heavy disgust instead.

Like one more second of looking at me would make him throw up. The discovery squeezed my heart shut.

I dragged myself up off the floor, and even though I knew the answer, I held on to a thread of hope and asked, shaking, "Everett, are you telling me you want to break up?" "You like this homewrecker that much?" I couldn't hold it in after all.

My voice went up, I pointed at the shape in the bed, and my eyes were red as I demanded an answer.

The next second Everett threw the cigarette he hadn't finished in my direction and roared, "Shut your mouth!" "Rebecca, this is the last time I warn you." "This is between the two of us.

Keep her out of it." His eyes stayed cold on me. "She's not the same as you.

If I hear one more disgusting word come out of your mouth, I promise you, next time it won't be as simple as telling you to shut up." "You know me.

I do what I say I'll do." I just stared at him, frozen where I was, and didn't dodge the cigarette with its lit end still burning.

It hit me right under the eye, and in a blink there was a red burn there. The scalding ash sprayed off it into my eye, and the pain was immediate and vicious.

In one instant my right eye was covered in red. I reached up a beat too late and felt something warm. Reflex tears mixed with blood, running out over the rim of my eye.

I looked at the blood on my fingertips, and my ears started ringing until I couldn't hear anything at all. I saw Paloma running toward me, her face frantic.

I saw the disgust all over Everett's face. His expression was thunderous, his mouth opening and closing, apparently spitting out something vicious. But I couldn't hear a word of it.

It wasn't until Paloma took my hand that sound started coming back through the ringing. And I heard what Everett was snarling. "I cheated.

What fucking law did I break?" He looked at me coldly and asked it one word at a time. "And you get to play judge and jury over me?" "Forget girlfriend. Say you were my wife.

I cheated. So what?" "You're this worked up—you want me to find you a cop to come arrest me?" Chapter 3 My whole body went still. I stared at him, unable to believe it.

At this man I'd been with for three years and more. Only now did it hit me that after three years of sharing a bed— I had never actually known him.

After a long moment I pulled up a smile and answered lightly, "Okay. Got it." "Everett, you're right.

Cheating isn't against the law." I said it one word at a time. "So let's break up." Everett went still. He seemed thrown, and frowned at me for a good while.

He probably hadn't expected me to be that clean about it this time. After a while he lit another cigarette and said flatly, "Fine.

Suit yourself." "Get out." As Paloma and I were leaving, he called after us again with the same line. "Remember to delete the video.

I don't want to see it anywhere." I said, "Okay." Maybe because I agreed too fast, too easily.

Everett's hand paused with the cigarette, like something didn't sit right, but he didn't ask. I walked out of the room and even pulled the door shut for him on my way.

The moment the lock caught, I finally let go of Paloma's hand. I'd been gripping it like a vise. And the tears came anyway, useless, one after another.

I had to bite down hard on my lip to hold back the sob that kept trying to get out of my throat. I told myself I couldn't cry. He was just a man who cheated.

We broke up, so we broke up. What was there to cry about? Garbage like him didn't deserve my tears. But no matter how hard I swallowed them down, they kept coming.

The hurt and the unfairness kept churning up, wave after wave of it, until I couldn't stand straight. Everett and I had been together three whole years. Three years.

If I'd had a dog for three years I'd have feelings for it. Let alone a living, breathing person. This was the man who used to kiss me and hold me every single day.

Who'd drop everything he was working on to travel anywhere in the world with me.

Who, after I said offhand that I missed him, would be standing in front of me the next day off the earliest flight. I used to imagine a lot of futures for Everett and me.

I'd imagined we might get married, or that we might split up peacefully. I never once imagined we'd end like this, this ugly.

That it would end with him cheating and threatening to kill me over the other woman. What a joke. Three years of my life, and it really was just a joke.

I crouched on the hotel steps with my arms around my knees, crying so hard I couldn't breathe, and asked Paloma, "Does every relationship end in the same shitty way?" Paloma wiped my face with a tissue, sighed, and was about to say something when her hand stopped.

Then I heard her voice right at my ear, urgent. "Don't cry yet." "I've got a way for you to let it out.

Wipe your face and get up, now." She hauled me up before I could process any of it, and then I saw the fire in her eyes as she dragged me straight at a man and a woman who'd just come out of the hotel.

It wasn't until we were on top of them that I realized the man was Paloma's boyfriend. I'd barely registered the panic on his face.

The next second Paloma's studded purse caught him full across the face. "I'll teach you to cheat!" Paloma shrieked it, eyes red, and kept going. "You piece of shit, I'll teach you to cheat!

I'll teach you to go find some other woman!" Chapter 4 Paloma grabbed the other woman by the hair and swung the purse again.

Her boyfriend saw where this was going and tried to run, and she got a hand locked around his throat and slammed him down on the sidewalk.

Then came the kicking, everything she had in her. Her heel came down hard on his face, then stomped again and again between his legs.

When she'd finally gotten enough of it out of her system, she spat on his face and yelled, "Pfft!

There isn't one good man in the whole lot of you!" "You're all garbage!" Then she grabbed me and we ran. We ran fast enough that the wind took my tears with it.

We finally stopped at a corner, looked at each other, and neither of us could keep from laughing.

Paloma caught her breath and asked, "Still upset?" "A little." I answered between breaths, smiling. "But it's not my heart that hurts.

Mostly my eye feels like it got burned back there, and it hurts like hell now." I probably needed to go to the ER. "Good.

It should hurt." Paloma watched me with something complicated on her face while she flagged a cab to take me there. "Remember this pain. Everett gave it to you.

Don't you dare go soft and get back together with him." I looked down at the red on my fingertips and pulled the corner of my mouth up. "I won't." I was never going to have anything to do with Everett again.

I hadn't sunk that low. Delivering myself to him to get hit. Everett and I were done, completely. My eye was okay. Nothing major. Some damage to the cornea.

For a while it would feel like something was in it, it would sting, and it would keep watering.

They taped a gauze patch over it and wrote me a script for drops, and then I walked out of the ER. Paloma wanted to take me home. I told her no.

We lived in opposite directions, and dropping me off before she went back would cost her an extra hour for nothing.

She couldn't argue me down, so she gave in and made me promise to text her when I got home. "Okay." I smiled and waved her off. "Get in, don't keep the driver waiting." Paloma answered and ducked into the cab.

I kept smiling as I watched her go, and only when the car was completely out of sight did the smile come down, bit by bit. I knew I shouldn't be sad. I knew Everett was trash.

He was trash out in the open, no hiding it. And I still couldn't get it together. I was still sad. It still hurt.

That sourness wrapped around all of me, like I'd turned into one bitter, sour lemon.

In a fog I walked into a bar on the corner, ordered a drink, sat at the window over the street, and stared at the people going by. I didn't want to go anywhere or do anything.

I just wanted to be completely empty. So I sat at the window end of the bar and drank one glass after another without a word. Three drinks in, the churning was finally down.

The side effect was that my head had gone swimmy.

I was getting up, unsteady, to leave, when two young guys turned up beside me, sloppylooking, hair bleached out to a brassy yellow, grinning as they crowded in, a hand landing on my shoulder, breath in my face. "Hey, gorgeous, drinking alone is no fun.

Come drink with us." I wasn't ready for it, and they pulled me hard enough that I stumbled. Maybe because only one of my eyes was working, maybe because of the alcohol.

Either way, everything in front of me was swinging. I tried to get away from them, and couldn't find the strength anywhere.

Chapter 5 One of them gave his friend a loaded grin and reached out to put his arms around me. "Fuck off." I was shaking with rage. "Don't touch me!" "I'll call the cops!" They weren't scared at all.

They laughed and closed in, one on each side, and walked me out the door between them. The cold air outside cleared a lot of the fog out of my head.

I fought to get loose, and the harder I fought, the tighter they held on.

One of them was even worried I'd scream, so he clamped a hand over my mouth and started dragging me toward a dark alley.

My eyes went wide with fear and I thrashed, but it was two of them against one of me and there was no way out.

I panicked and looked everywhere for anyone on the street, anyone I could ask for help. And while my eyes were scrambling over everything— they landed on a pair of eyes I knew.

He had a cigarette between his lips, standing across the street, carefully guiding a slim figure into the back seat of a car.

As if he felt me looking, he raised his eyes and swept them our way. When they met mine, they paused for a moment. Everett saw me. Knowing it set my heart pounding. He saw me!

He had to have seen that two men were hauling me off. He had to have seen that I didn't want to go, that I was scared.

My heart was going fast, and I reached toward him without thinking.

There was a time when Everett would see a stranger bump my shoulder from way down the block and come storming over with a face like thunder to yank the guy off me and pull me in against him, all possessiveness.

He'd told me he would protect me. I screamed his name without a sound, looking toward him through the tears. And then Everett just looked away.

Like he hadn't seen a thing, he lowered his head and lit a cigarette, light as that. My breath stopped.

It was like a bucket of cold water had come down over me from head to feet, cold enough that I shuddered.

The instant those two hauled my dazed body into the alley, a bottomless strength came up out of me, and when one of them slackened his grip I got my hand free and drove the back of my fist into his nose.

While he let go and went down in a crouch holding his nose and howling, I got my bag up and swung it hard between the other one's legs, then turned and ran, fast, without looking back.

What I didn't expect was to run into a familiar chest at the mouth of the alley. That familiar woody tea scent, mixed with a thread of sweet, cloying orange perfume.

I froze, looked up, and met Everett's eyes.

The next second I shoved him off me, swung the bag with everything I had, and brought it down hard across his face. "I was so busy hitting those two pieces of shit I forgot to hit you." It knocked him back a step, and his whole face went red where it landed. "You hit me?" He touched his cheek like he couldn't quite believe it, and raised an eyebrow.

I didn't give him anything back. I turned, ran, found a cab sitting at the curb and threw myself into it. Leaving tonight and every filthy thing in it behind me. Fuck Everett.

Fuck love. None of it was fucking real. I scrubbed the tears out of my eyes and told myself through my teeth that I was done crying.

If I shed one more tear over Everett after tonight— then I really would look down on myself. Chapter 6 In the cab, a new message popped up on my phone. From Everett.

A mirror selfie. You could see clearly where my bag had left a few scratches across his cheek.

With the photo came a line of text. [Pretty strong.] I closed my eyes and went to delete him. Another message came through. [I have a lot of photos and videos of you.

You'd better not delete me, or I can't say where those things might end up.] It made me laugh out of pure anger. Another threat.

It was like all night long Everett had done nothing but threaten me. One minute he was threatening to kill me, the next he was threatening to post private photos of me.

What, in his eyes, was I—some soft touch he could threaten and squeeze however he liked? My fingers flew over the screen and I typed back through my teeth: [Go ahead and post them.

Post as many as you want.] [And if that's not enough, I've got more!] As if there's a single person who's never taken photos like that. It's a body. That's all it is.

Every person in the world comes in naked and goes out naked. So what? And I'm a normal person. I slept with a man who was my boyfriend.

I'm not ashamed of it, and I'm not going to be humiliated by it. The one who should be ashamed is the human garbage who tries to use those photos and videos to threaten a woman!

Disgusted past the point of tolerating it, I sent all of that, then blocked him and deleted him, all in one motion.

On the other end, Everett watched a big red exclamation point come up next to the message he'd sent, and instead of getting angry he laughed, opened his contacts, found my number, and sent: [I've never seen you angry before.] [You're kind of interesting like this.] The second it came through I typed back through my teeth: [Fuck off.] Then I blocked that number too.

Every way he had of reaching me, I went through them one by one and blocked them all. And I deleted every post I'd ever put up that had anything to do with Everett.

By the time all of it was done it was past one in the morning. I'd assumed I'd lie awake all night over breaking up with Everett.

Instead I showered, got into bed, thought about nothing, and was asleep fast. The next day Paloma was worried enough about me to show up early at my place with things for me.

And found that I wasn't puffyeyed from crying at all—I was wide awake with my camera on my shoulder, heading out for a shoot. "Isn't your eye bothering you?

Maybe don't go." Paloma watched me, concerned, sure I was putting it on. I smiled. "I'm really fine. It's a breakup, not a death sentence.

No point sitting around feeling sorry for myself." "Besides, I booked this location shoot a while back.

I'm not going to flake on him." Paloma couldn't talk me out of it, so she gave me a long look, let go of my hand, and kept telling me, "Be careful out there.

Don't do anything stupid. Anything happens, call me right away." I didn't know whether to laugh. Paloma thought I was lying to her, and I wasn't.

I really had booked today's shoot a long time ago. He'd waited a long time on my list to get this date. And today was his birthday. I couldn't blow him off over my personal drama.

I wouldn't be able to live with my own conscience. Chapter 7 By the time I got to Millennium Park, Owen had already been there a while.

I finally found him off in a corner, and when I smiled and said hi, he stared at the gauze patch taped over my eye, thrown, and asked a little blankly, "Ms.

Kirkwood, what happened to your eye?" "Ah, got in a fight, lost, got hurt." I waved it off, resigned.

Owen's eyes went wide, and he stared at skinny little me for a long moment like he couldn't believe it.

Finally he got out, "Then—then next time you get in a fight you can call me." "I'm six one, and I lift.

I could probably take a few hits for you." A laugh burst out of me. "Sure." I wiped away the tears the laughing brought up, still smiling. "Next time I'll definitely call you." It caught up with Owen that I might be joking, and he went a little red and smiled, embarrassed.

We talked for a minute, got a little more comfortable with each other, and then I started shooting. It went well. Owen was tall and goodlooking.

Put him in anything and he made it look tailored. However I shot him, it looked good.

We got more into it as we went, working from Millennium Park all the way over to the Art Institute, from ten in the morning to two in the afternoon, and by the end both of us were thrilled with it. "Look at this one.

Your profile, that mood, and the light is exactly right. It's basically perfect." I kept staring at the shot like I was looking at a piece of art.

Owen had his head next to mine looking at it too, and he tilted it slightly, the tips of his ears going red, and mumbled, "It's not that good." "Huh?" I hadn't caught it, and turned to look at him.

He met my eyes, looked away fast, coughed to clear his throat, and said, "Um, I'm getting hungry. Ms. Kirkwood, let's go eat.

My treat." "Sure." I didn't bother being polite about it.

There was a mall downtown right next to us anyway, plenty of food in it. "I'll get you some indoor shots while we're there." I put the camera back in my bag and we set off.

A few minutes' walk and we were there. I stepped onto the down escalator, hadn't even gotten my balance, when a message from Paloma came in.

I was about to open it, wasn't paying attention, almost missed a step and pitched forward—Owen was quick, and caught me with an arm. "Ms. Kirkwood, careful.

Watch your feet." He steadied me and said it quietly.

I was holding on to his arm, embarrassed, going a little red, and had just started to say something when something cinched tight against my neck, and then a heavy pull dragged me backward.

My body went with it, out of my control, and I almost went down on the steps. I thought my backpack with the camera in it had snagged on something.

I turned my head and met Everett's eyes on the escalator right beside mine.

When they met, he pulled his face into something that was almost a smile, and said hi. "Hey." And what he had in his hand was the backpack. The one with my camera in it.

And he didn't look like he was planning to let go. "Rebecca, I think you'd better come up here." Everett rode up the escalator, smiling brilliantly. "Because I'm not letting go." My expression went as dark as it could get.

Chapter 8 Two escalators. Everett going up. Me going down. He wouldn't let go. Which meant what, exactly—that I was supposed to run back up the wrong way to get to him? Psycho.

Teeth clenched, barely stopping to think, I got a hand on the strap and turned to Owen. "Are you strong?" Owen blinked, then caught on fast.

He grabbed the strap too, and at my nod, hauled on it. The pull dragged Everett back two steps, and after he caught himself, none too gracefully, his face went cold.

And the next second I yanked the zipper open, pulled the camera out, and flung the strap straight at him. "Then you'd better never let go for the rest of your life." Grinding my teeth, I grabbed Owen and ran down.

Everett's face darkened and he raised his voice behind me. "Rebecca!" I didn't turn around.

I just raised my hand high and gave him the internationally recognized gesture of friendship. Running into Everett here—what rotten luck.

I was still muttering curses and didn't notice at all that I'd been holding Owen's hand the whole time. It