Vacant Heart

Chapter Forty-Two

"Are you actually seeing him again?"

The outburst was unexpected. Bradley's sudden appearance in my office doorway, even more so. There's no sign of Samantha coming after him to tell me he stormed past her. After weeks of excuses and inconsistency from me, Bradley's a full-fledged force in my doorway, his expression shaking as if he'd been gearing himself with adrenaline for this very face off.

I admit I'm nowhere prepared for it, especially in this setting. Cautiously, I rise from my seat, gesturing him inside. My first task is to get the door closed before he begins to free his agitation, before he can unleash from what I'm about to tell him.

As I shut it, my suspicions are confirmed when I find Samantha absent from her desk, still picking up lunch. When I turn, he's facing me, his briefcase thrown into one of my chairs. His blonde locks are tumbling messily over his face and his tie is unwound from his neck, making me wonder whether he stormed the whole way here.

"I've been trying to see you for weeks. You blew me off the other day, and I tried to stop thinking you were with him. It's not like you to be irresponsible."

"Irresponsible?" I laugh, frustrated. "Bradley, I don't have a father. Stop acting like one."

"So, you were with him."

"What I do is none of your business—"

He opens his briefcase, and holds up a newspaper to me before throwing it down on my desk. I glance down at the crumbled papers, and lift it to get a better look at the headline. There's a poorly taken photograph of Aidan and I on the corner of the street, locking in passion, drenched and...noticeably consumed in each other, so much that we didn't notice someone taking pictures of us from afar.

Before I can question why a picture of us would make a front page, the headline absolves that for me.

LOVERS FROM PENTAGON DISASTER TOGETHER AGAIN IN STEAMY EMBRACE

I set down the paper slowly.

"You can't lie to me now."

"I never lied," I utter, low because I'm speaking through my teeth. "I never told you I was yours. I never told you to stay and wait. You're just fucking stubborn."

His silence disturbs me. I look up and his eyes are wide and disbelieving. He finally finds his voice again, now that I'm looking at him.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Jo? That guy? That guy?" He shakes his head. "How, after everything I've told you, after everything that I know makes sense in your mind, how could you make the same mistake all over again? You don't know this man! You don't even know who you are, for fuck's sake!"

"I'm not speaking about this with you anymore."

"I think I deserve a damn explanation—"

I want to hit him. Searing through him, my teeth clash in anger. "I don't owe you a goddamn thing, Brad. Not one. I'm tired of you, of everyone telling me how I was, how I should fucking act now. I broke up with you! And I find it damn hard to believe I put up with this shit from you for a whole year, which means I somehow miraculously became fucking weak, or you're trying to take advantage of the fact that I can't remember the man I wanted more than you. Now, I don't know if this is because you really want me or if it's because you can't stand to lose, but I'm tired. I'm tired of hearing you come in with this self-righteous bullshit—"

"You're so fucking delusional, Jo. You really are," he mutters, going red in the face.

"Get out," I snap. He rounds the desk, and I straighten, snapping straight in warning as I twist toward him. He looks down upon me, disgusted.