I awoke a few hours later to an empty bed. Knowing what I knew of Matthew’s habits, it shouldn’t have been a surprise.
But, somehow, it was. And it f*****g hurt.
I told myself this didn’t mean anything. That it didn’t diminish what we’d shared or the fact I was here.
Except it did mean something. It meant…I was spending my night alone.
And suddenly, out of nowhere, I was lying there with my head full of that f*****g photo. The one I’d seen in Glamour before I’d run away. A f*****g photo of Matthew and his ex-boyfriend, Steve Whateveritwas, at some fancy event together.
It’d been taken long after they’d broken up, and quite a bit before he’d met me…but I wasn’t doing the best job of being rational about it. I mean, it wasn’t so much that the photo existed. It was how good they’d look
