Chapter 4 - The Eviction
"Claire, please," Brandon choked out, tears finally brimming in his eyes as the reality of his absolute ruin set in. "I love you. It was just sex. She means nothing to me. I was just scared of the commitment, I was acting out—"
"Stop talking," I commanded.
He stopped.
"I don't care why you did it," I told him, standing up from the table. "I don't care if you were scared. I don't care if she means nothing. What I care about is that you looked me in the eyes, let me plan a life with you, and then let your friends laugh at me while you put your hands on another woman."
I walked over to the hallway closet, pulled out a large duffel bag, and threw it onto the floor at his feet.
"The lease is in my name," I said. "You have ten minutes to pack whatever you need for the weekend. I will have a moving company box up the rest of your things by Monday. You can figure out where to send them."
"You can't do this!" Brandon cried, the panic returning. "Where am I supposed to go? My dad won't even answer my calls! He texted me that if I come to the house, he'll have security turn me away!"
"Call Mason," I suggested coldly. "Since he knows the drill so well, I'm sure he has a spare couch."
Brandon sat there, sobbing into his hands, a pathetic, broken shell of the confident man who had been grinding on a dance floor an hour earlier.
I didn't feel sorry for him. I didn't feel the urge to comfort him. The quiet that had settled into my chest earlier had crystallized into pure, impenetrable ice.
"Ten minutes, Brandon," I warned. "Or I call the police and have you removed for trespassing."
May you like
He looked at my face, searching for a trace of the woman who used to forgive his minor transgressions, the woman who used to smooth over his arguments with his father. He found nothing.
Slowly, heavily, he stood up and began to pack.
