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than once that it was over between them.
    There were no empty parking spaces on the street, and even if there were, I wouldn’t have taken it—because the last thing I wanted to do was knock on Alex’s door and find a beautiful supermodel lounging on his sofa.
    As I drove away, the rain pounded harder against my windshield.
    “You’re such an idiot,” I said to myself, remembering that first day in the ER when Alex took off his shirt to impress me.
    My instincts had told me that he was a player. Maybe I should have trusted them.
    * * *
    By the time I arrived home, I was spitting mad. Mad at Alex for playing me, and mad at myself for becoming so ridiculously infatuated that I believed our relationship was actually going somewhere.
    I’d always been a proud and independent person, and the last thing I wanted to do was fall apart over a guy, so as soon as I walked through the door and removed my coat, I pulled out my cell phone and texted him a message:
     
    Hi Alex. I don’t think this is going to work out. I can’t come for dinner tonight. Sorry.
     
    Before I had a chance to think it through or craft a gentler message, I impulsively pressed send and tossed the phone onto the kitchen counter.
    “There!” I shouted at the touch screen. “How do you like them apples!”
    The phone immediately vibrated back at me with an incoming call.
    “Oh, crap,” I whispered, and picked it up. I swiped the screen to answer it. “Hello?”
    “Hi,” Alex said. There was a gentleness in his tone. He spoke to me carefully, as if I stood on a tenth-floor window ledge. “I just got your text.”
    I shut my eyes and scrunched my nose. Maybe I’d been a bit too trigger happy sending that message.
    “Yeah, well…” I sat down at the kitchen table. “I’m sorry to break our date like that…in a text. I should have called to do it.”
    “To do what exactly?” he asked. “I’m confused. You said you didn’t think it was going to work out. Are you breaking up with me?”
    “Breaking up…” My eyebrows lifted. “I think…maybe that’s overstating it a bit. That implies we’re actually a couple, and I don’t think we were quite there.”
    Otherwise he wouldn’t have invited his other girlfriend over to keep him entertained on a rainy afternoon.
    Alex was quiet for a long moment.
    “I thought we were,” he finally said. “I don’t understand, Audrey. I’m disappointed. I was looking forward to seeing you tonight.”
    “I’m sure you’ll get over it,” I harshly replied, wondering if Melanie was still there and he was talking to me from behind his bathroom door.
    Playing us both.
    “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Something must have happened because you don’t sound like yourself.”
    I stood and paced around the kitchen while sparks of heat flashed through my body. “Okay then. If you really want to know… I came by your place earlier today and saw whose car was parked out front.”
    My explanation was met with complete silence.
    “Did you hear what I said?” I asked.
    “Yeah, I heard you,” he replied, “but it’s not what you think. Why don’t you come over here so we can talk about it? Let me explain.”
    All those clichéd responses made me want to laugh bitterly into the phone, but I couldn’t because I was overcome by a sudden melancholy. I’d had such high hopes for this relationship. I’d been wildly attracted to Alex from the get-go and I honestly believed we were falling in love.
    “I don’t think so,” I replied—because I didn’t want to prolong the agony. I may have been heartbroken, but I still had my dignity.
    “Then let’s talk about it now ,” he suggested. “I didn’t invite Melanie over. She just showed up at my door in tears and I had no choice. I had to invite her in. She was a mess.”
    Part of me wanted desperately to hear more, but another part was afraid to listen. I didn’t know if I could trust him.
    I didn’t say anything in reply, but he nevertheless