Chapter 45 The truth I wasn't expecting.

Chapter 45 The truth I wasn't expecting.


Maya's POV

"Tell me the truth, Maya."

I froze.

The night suddenly felt too quiet and too still. The streetlight above us buzzed softly. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. A car passed at the end of the street, but all I could hear was my own heartbeat.

He wants the truth.

The truth is…The truth is I don't know what you are to me.

I don't know if you're the person saving me or the person I'm falling for.

I don't know if I want you to hold me or if I want to run away.

The truth is…

The problem wasn't that I didn't know the truth. The problem was that I did and saying it out loud would make it real.

So I did what I always did.

I ran. Not with my feet but with words.

"Why was she there?"

The words came out before I could stop them.

Justin blinked. "What?"

"Cynthia." My voice was sharper now. "Why was she at your house?"

He stared at me for a long moment.

"We're talking about you."

"No. We're talking about Cynthia."

"You're avoiding the question."

"And you're avoiding mine.”

"Maya."

"No." I folded my arms. "We're talking about the woman who answered your door at midnight wearing a robe."

His jaw tightened.

I noticed. Good.

"I asked you a question first," he said.

"And now I'm asking mine."

"You first."

I laughed.

"You wish."

For a second, I thought I saw amusement flash across his face, then it disappeared.

The streetlight buzzed overhead. The wind picked up, cold against my face.

Justin ran a hand through his hair. Frustrated.

"Cynthia and I haven't been together in years."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"No. It doesn't."

He was quiet for a moment.

Then: "She needed somewhere to stay tonight."

Needed somewhere to stay? At midnight?

Sure.

"That's convenient," I said.

"It's the truth."

"Is it?"

"Maya …"

"She was wearing a robe."

Justin's jaw tightened. "Maya."

"She looked comfortable there." My voice cracked. "Like she belonged there.”

Something flickered across his face and it was gone almost instantly.

But I saw it and suddenly I hated that I saw it, because it meant something. Something I didn't understand and wasn't sure I wanted to understand.

"What exactly are you asking me, Maya?"

I stared at him. Then all the frustration I'd been carrying exploded.

"I'm asking what she is to you!"

The words echoed down the empty street.

My breathing was uneven and my chest hurt. For a second neither of us spoke, because there it was…the real question. The one I'd been dancing around for weeks.

Justin studied me carefully.

Then he asked quietly,

"What is it to you?"

My heart stumbled.

What is she to me?

She's the woman who kissed you at the party. She's the woman who called me a stupid, ugly little girl. She's the woman who knows things about you I'll probably never know.

She's…She's everything I'm not.

That's what she is to me.

But I looked away, because I couldn't say that. Because if I said that, he would know.

And if he knew…

"Why are you really bothered about Cynthia?”

“I'm not bothered.”

"You're standing outside my house at midnight yelling about her robe."

"I'm not yelling."

"You're practically vibrating with anger."

"I'm not…"

"Maya."

His voice was soft now. Too soft.

Stop. Stop looking at me like that.

Stop being gentle.

I can't handle gentle right now.

He stepped closer. Not touching, just…there.

Then his hand came up. His fingers brushed my chin lightly.

I froze.

Slowly, gently, he turned my face back toward him. Not forcefully or possessively. Just enough that I couldn't hide.

"Hey."

His voice was soft. Dangerously soft.

"Look at me."

I did and immediately wished I hadn't. Because his eyes were searching mine, like he was trying to figure me out. Like he was trying to see past every excuse I'd ever given him.

"You know I've got your back."

My throat tightened. No one had said that to me in a long time.

"You know that, right?"

I swallowed. I couldn't answer. Couldn't breathe.

Justin took a slow breath.

"Tell me what's really wrong."

I stared at him.

"Because I don't understand."

His voice dropped lower.

"I don't understand why you showed up at my house at midnight."

My pulse skipped.

"I don't understand why you're yelling at me."

Another beat.

"I don't understand why you're standing here looking like you're about to cry."

That did it. Something inside me cracked.

"I don't know!"

The words tore out of me.

Justin went still.

"I don't know why I showed up at your house!"

I threw my hands into the air.

"I don't know why I put on my shoes!"

My voice shook.

"I don't know why I left my apartment!"

I could hear it now.

The desperation, the confusion, the truth.

"I don't know why I walked all the way across town!"

My chest rose sharply.

"I wasn't thinking!"

The words echoed through the street.

"I never think when it comes to you. I just… I just feel….”

Silence.

Justin didn't move or blink or look away.

I wished he would. God, I wished he would. Because the way he was looking at me made me feel exposed and that terrified me.

His voice was barely above a whisper.

"You feel what, Maya?"

I froze.

The question hung between us waiting, and the answer sat right there. Right on the tip of my tongue.

He's giving me a chance.

He's…

I can't. I can't say it.

I can't…

I stepped back and the cold rushed into the space between us.

"Were you engaged?"

The words came out before I could stop them.

The shift was immediate. Justin's expression changed, and suddenly every instinct I had started screaming.

Something was wrong. I could feel it.

The silence stretched and became long and painful.

His eyes drifted away from mine for the first time all night.

My stomach dropped.

That couldn't be good.

"Justin?"

Nothing.

Then finally…

"No."

Relief flooded through me so fast I nearly swayed.

Okay…Okay.

Good.

Good.

Then he spoke again.

"We never got engaged."

The relief faltered.

Wait…What?

I frowned.

"Then why does she keep talking about a ring?"

Justin looked exhausted suddenly, like the question itself weighed a hundred pounds.

He dragged a hand through his hair and looked toward the dark street. Then back at me, and for the first time since I'd met him…He looked nervous.

Actually nervous.

"Maya..."

My pulse started racing again.

"What?"

Another pause.

Then:

"Cynthia isn't my ex-fiancée."

I blinked.

What?

His eyes met mine and everything inside me stopped.

"She's my ex-wife."

The world tilted.

My breath vanished, my thoughts disappeared. My heart forgot how to beat.

Ex-wife?

Justin was married?

Justin and Cynthia…What?

What?

What?

What?

I stared at him, unable to move and speak. Unable to process a single thing. Because somehow the answer I'd wanted all this time was worse than every possibility I'd imagined.

And judging by the look on Justin's face…That wasn't even the whole story.