In the past, I would have fallen for his sweet words and puppy eyes. However, I would not fall into the same mistakes anymore.
“I’m not upset. I just don’t want to,” I replied flatly.
His face darkened and the alcohol fueled his frustration. He pressed me down again, his voice slurred but his words cutting me like a knife. “Then what do you want? Money? Bags? Show access? I can give you everything now. Just say the word. That’s what you want, right?”
His accusation hit me like a slap. I took a sharp intake of breath, my nails digging into my palm.
“There’s nothing you could give me that would make me want you again,” I said quietly.
I shoved him away with all the strength I had. He sneered, his voice dripping with venom. “No? Even if I throw money at you? You went crawling to someone else for money before, didn’t you?”
Crack!
Without hesitation, I slapped him hard across the face.
The sting of my slap seemed to sober him instantly. He scrambled to speak, but I cut him off gently, “You’re drunk. Go rest.”
Without another glance, I walked upstairs, locked the bedroom door and tuned out the apologies and sweet-talking he spouted from the hallway.