He tightened his arm around Talia's waist as she clung to him, then, as if nothing had happened, he said, "I'm busy—gotta go," and hung up before I could answer.
He walked into the hotel with Talia in his arms, his eyes full of desire. He said to her, low and possessive, "You started this!" Then, pinching her chin. "You'll take responsibility!"
I watched them—my man and my best friend—entwine beneath the trees, hurry into the hotel, and later come out flushed and laughing, joined by several of his friends who had helped deceive me. They joked and chatted as if everything were a game.
I thought the pain of heartbreak would stop after it broke me, but when I heard one of them say in passing, "Talia looks pretty in makeup—she's not that different from Elaine," a new kind of nausea rose in me.
Talia hit the man playfully. "Don't compare me to Elaine. How many people are as delicate as she is and always want to be spoiled?"
They used me as the butt of their jokes, their teasing without limit. My throat dried and clogged with bile until I felt I would vomit. As they walked away, Talia opened the passenger door like she owned the seat I always kept for myself.
I couldn't stand it any longer.
I flung my car door open and ran at them. Iñigo looked shocked, his face gone pale. He instinctively tried to pull Talia down—only to be stopped by the first of my slaps.
"Iñigo!" My voice was raw; my chest ached. All the sweet memories—once like a parade of happy scenes—shattered into tears that fell and smashed on the pavement.
"Iñigo!" I raised my hand to strike again, but Talia grabbed my wrist, eyes red with anger.
"How dare you hit people!" she cried.
I raised my other hand and slapped Talia in the face. "Do I need to pick my moments?" I yelled. I grabbed her hair, slammed her head against the car door, then slapped the stunned Iñigo again. And then I told him...
"It's over between us, Iñigo!"
"I—" I looked him straight in the eye, enunciating every word clearly, "—Elaine, don't want you anymore!"
