(Virginia’s POV)
"What are you doing here, Virginia?"
The question is another slap in my face, trampling on the remaining shreds of my dignity.
What am I doing here? I'm here because I care about him. Because I dropped everything the second I got that call. Because I've been taking care of him for years while she got to play house with another man.
But he doesn't see any of that. He never sees any of that.
"Mike called me," I say, my voice shaking. "You were drunk and calling for—" I can't even say her name. It burns too much to speak the truth out loud.
"I didn't tell Mike to call you."
Each word is another wound. Another reminder that even in his lowest moment, I'm not the one he wants by his side.
The tears I've been forcing myself to hold back spill over. Years of pain, of wat
