My nostrils flare and any threat of tears has evaporated, making my eyes burn with rage. “You didn't just go there. How dare you? You bastard.”
“For fuck’s sake, calm down.” He flings the cupboard door open, pulling out a small packet of milky buttons for Caleb’s dessert.
I stand too. My body vibrates against the table as I hold myself up. “Do you have any idea how I feel about her? She ruined my life. I know you left me for her.”
“Don't be so dramatic. I never left you for her.” He pours juice into Caleb’s sippy cup and pours himself a glass as well.
“Yes, you did. I’ll get your journal out to prove it. I could highlight a hundred times her name was mentioned.”
He huffs out a laugh like this is funny. “I think you’re exaggerating a bit there.”
I mock his written words. “I saw Emily today at the bar. Emily has such a sweet smile. Emily is so kind. Emily is so innocent. Emily has a tight friggin’ cunt.”
He spits out his drink. “I never wrote that shit.”
My fists dig into my hip. “I wouldn't know because you tore out several pages. So you probably did write that shit, and you didn't want me to see it.”
He slams his empty cup on the counter. “Those pages I tore out because I was pissed off with you sending my stuff back to my mothers. They were all about you and how upset I was, and yeah, I called you a load of fucking names I didn't want you to read because I know you. I could write you a million love songs, and you’d still focus on the one bad line that was said in the heat of the moment. So forgive me for wanting to shield you from some fucking angry words I wrote once upon a time.” He presses his lips into a thin line while breathing heavily through his nose.
Caleb cries out, sensing our distress. Cal soothes him by softly stroking his hair.
I hold up a milky button and hand it to him before turning back to Cal. “Was she a virgin?” I whisper-yell, trying not to upset Caleb again.
He strokes Caleb’s head while whisper-yelling right back at me. “What the fuck has that got to do with anything?”
“Was she? Just tell me.”
“Yes,” he says through gritted teeth.
“So you were her first?” The tears flood out of me, knowing how you never forget your first. Even if your first was a quickie in the back of a van with some douche, I’ll never forget it, no matter how much I try to erase that idiot from my memory.
“So what?” He stares and flinches his head as he says the words.
“I can't bear it. I can't stand you still talking to her. To know you have been doing it this whole time.” I cover my face with my hands.
“It’s only emailing, Steph. I haven't been shagging her, for fuck’s sake. I haven't seen her in years. She lives in Hampshire.”
“Why email her then? What's the big deal?”
“Because unlike you, she wanted to stay friends with me.”
“You obviously didn't screw her over like you did me. Why would you want to stay in touch?”
“We’re friends. Isn't that what friends do? Keep in touch.”
“Well, get some male friggin’ friends to email.”
“Guys don't email.”
“My point exactly. Why are you emailing her?”
“I’m not having this conversation with you. You’re being so fucking unreasonable. Read through all my bastard emails if you’re that bothered. Most of them are talking about you, anyway.” He waves a hand to the laptop. “Go ahead, read them. Every fucking one. They’re all on there.”
“I don’t want to read yourbastardemails. The thought of it makes me sick to my stomach.” I cringe, curling my hands around my belly as the acid in my stomach curdles and rises in my throat.
He shakes his head and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “You’re bat-shit fucking crazy. What do you think I'm gonna do? She's fucking married.”
“Well, that didn't stop you before. But God forbid you do anything to ruin miss prissy pants perfect friggin’ life with her bastard emails.”