I’d honestly never been so glad to be leaving the country. The run-up to Christmas was fun at work but I couldn’t stop thinking about what had gone down at Steve’s.
I mean, was what had happened my fault? Given how long I’d spent feeling about myself pretty much the way Steve had said I should, it had been rough having him slap me in the face with it all over again.
Not because I believed he was right anymore. But because I shouldn’t have to defend my choices to a dickhead like him.
And what had Matthew meant, at the end, when he said it had been a bad idea to invite me? Hadn’t he wanted to see me? Or had he known I’d find a way to f**k everything up?
Also, I’d told him I was still in love with him. In response to which he’d told me precisely f**k all. But what had I been expecting?
