It sounds final.
I blink. “No?”
“You can’t just end it like this,” he replies. “Not when I don’t even understand what I did wrong.”
My throat tightens because I don’t even know how to explain what I feel. Maybe a part of me doesn’t understand it either. Maybe I’ve started to act like an actual girlfriend to a guy who doesn’t and probably never will see me that way.
I need to pull myself together before I spiral again, before I’m standing in some bar next week, and pretending I don’t care while doing everything to make him notice me.
I draw in a shaky breath. “Can you just let me go?”
His brows furrow, frustration flickering across his face. “Do you like someone else? Is that it?”
I blink at him. “What?”
“Or is this about the stripper?” His tone sharpens, but there’s an edge of sin
