Chapter 2The Secret We Kept

Once we were in the car, Diego turned on the heat. Only then did he remember to explain himself.

"She's a year below me in college. We got to talking, and I guess I lost track of time."

I nodded. "Mm."

He'd always been like that—easy to talk to, the kind of person who could strike up a conversation with anyone.

Anyone except me.

During the three years we attended colleges in different states, we barely talked. I’d always told myself he was swamped with postgraduate studies, thesis research and his startup business..

So even when it took him days to reply to my messages, I never complained. Not until I accidentally saw his chat history with another girl.

They texted every day, sharing the little moments of their lives and talking about things I couldn't even follow.

The conversation went on for pages and pages. Compared to that, the handful of messages Diego and I had exchanged felt pitiful.

I finally lost my temper.

He only frowned, calm to the point of being infuriating. "Gemma Calloway, what is your problem? I didn't cheat on you. I was just having a normal conversation. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?"

Then he scrolled through the entire conversation for me.

He was right. They'd shared pieces of their daily lives, but there wasn't a single flirtatious message.

I closed my eyes for a moment before quietly asking, "Why couldn't you talk to me like that?"

His answer came without hesitation. "You went to a state school. What could we possibly have to talk about?"

It wasn't a careless insult. It was the quiet certainty that he was better than me.

That day, for the first time, I told him we were done. Still angry, he agreed without a second thought.

A month later, he showed up with a bouquet, and somehow we ended up back together.

The silence inside the car grew almost unbearable.

Keeping his eyes on the road, Diego asked casually, "Who were you having dinner with?"

Lost in thought, I answered before I could stop myself, "My blind date."

His expression darkened instantly. The Porsche screeched to a halt at the side of the road. He turned to me, his face tense.

"So because I agreed to go on a blind date, you're saying this just to get back at me?"

I shook my head. "No."

He let out a humorless laugh. "No? So you really went on a blind date? Gemma, if you're going to lie, at least make it believable. You'd never leave me for someone else."

I looked at him, genuinely confused. "Are you... jealous? We both went on blind dates. Doesn't that make us even?"

His face hardened even more. "Gemma, don't test me."

I had no interest in arguing. I looked away, reached for the door handle, and said flatly, "I'll just get an Uber home."

The words had barely left my mouth before he leaned across the center console. One hand cupped the back of my head as he crushed his lips against mine.

I shoved at his chest, trying to push him away. Instead, he kissed me harder, forcing my lips apart.

I bit down as hard as I could. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

He jerked back with a curse. "Gemma!"

Ignoring his anger, I wiped my mouth, climbed out of the car, and walked away.

The bitter cold slammed into me the moment I stepped outside. I hurried down the sidewalk without looking back, only pulling out my phone to call an Uber after I was sure he wasn't following me.

Ten minutes later, a driver finally accepted my request. By then, my hands and feet were numb from the cold. I had a feeling I was going to come down with something.

By eleven that night, a high fever hit me hard. Wrapped in a thick comforter, I fumbled for my phone, planning to have some cold medicine delivered.

Just then, the doorbell rang.