Accept That It's Over

"You want to do something for me, Scott?" I meet his gaze, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. "Accept that it's over. Move out of the apartment. And for the love of all that's holy, keep our personal life out of the office."

His expression hardens, but at least he takes a step back, no longer looming over me with all his stinky pheromones and body heat—not to add the terrifying prospect he might try to kiss me. And if he does, I'm going to have to knee my boss in the balls. "So that's it? Two years together, and you're just going to throw it all away?"

"No, Scott. You threw it away. I'm just acknowledging the fact."

He runs a hand through his black hair, frustration evident in every stiff line of his body. "You're being unreasonable. People make mistakes. Couples work through things like this all the time."

"We're not a couple anymore." The words taste like bitter defeat, reminding me of all the time I wasted on a worthless man. "And I'm not being unreasonable. I'm protecting myself from further hurt."

Scott's jaw clenches, brown eyes flashing with annoyance. "So you're just going to give up? Run away at the first sign of trouble?"

"This isn't the first sign of trouble, Scott. It's the last straw. We've been having problems for months. The late nights at the office, the secretive phone calls, the way you've been pulling away. I just didn't want to see it."

Actually, I hadn't really noticed. I just thought he was busy with work, which is the excuse he gave me. As a career woman, I understood the pain.

It wasn't until Penelope asked me some pointed questions that I realized I should have seen the signs a long time ago.

Maybe a little bit of the blame does lie with me. Maybe I could have been a more involved partner.

No wonder he thought he could fuck her in my apartment. He knew he could get away with it.

But even with acknowledging my own flaws, it doesn't excuse his cheating. He could have broken up with me like a real man and before going off to get his dick wet.

"That was work," he protests. "You know how demanding this job can be."

"Do I?" I arch an eyebrow. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you've been using work as an excuse to hide something."

He opens his mouth to argue, but I hold up a hand. "Save it. I don't want to hear any more excuses or justifications. What's done is done."

"You're angry," he says, reaching up to brush his hand against my jaw.

I smack it away, but he just smiles.

"I'm not angry. I don't care anymore." And the lie detector determined that's a lie. I'm furious, of course.

But not as angry as I was.

Now, I just want things to be over. For this relationship to be in my rear view mirror.

And for him to leave me the hell alone.

"You just need some time," he says. "It's okay. I can wait. I'll do anything to make it up to you."

Jesus fucking Christ on a tricycle.

"Scott, I don't need time. It's over between us. There's no coming back."

He steps back, holding up his hands with a magnanimous smile. "It's fine. Go back to work, sweetheart. You'll feel better when your to-do list is caught up."

The fuck.

My to-do list is just fine, thank you. Unlike someone else, I keep up with everything and make copious use of sticky notes. On my papers, on my folders, on my monitor, on my desk, even on the mirror in my bathroom.

Nothing beats pen on paper.

"We're over, Scott. Time isn't going to fix this." Giving him a solid glare that I hope has all my intentions to kick him to the curb behind it, I stalk out of his stupid office with a bad feeling about the future.

He's delusional.

* * *

Penelope's decided to stay the night at my place, as a Scott-prevention measure.

I've already put up a basic shifter ward that would keep him from entering the front door, but I appreciate the gesture.

"So this tiny thing can keep out a man of Scott's size?" Penelope puzzles over the stone—four inches long with a sharp edge. It's a minor feature we are working on, and the engineers have their own cute name for it.

It's called the oh shit feature.

As in, when your wards go out and you're defenseless and thinking oh shit, you can use the sharp, pointy end to stab an intruder's eyeball out.

For the record, I'd be more liable to go after his balls than his eye, but hey—that's just what I would do, with one specific intruder.

"It's a small-scale prototype." Taking it from her, I set it on the small table near the entryway. "Because of the small size, they can only handle a small subset of variables. For this one, it's set to repel a certain type of supernatural. I had them give me one for shifters. It works great, but only lasts a month before degrading. It's hard to pack much power in such a small size."

"Hmm." Penelope looks at it with curiosity. "I like it. Would be a great thing to toss into a purse and feel safe. Especially if it's for prey shifters. Between them and vampires, the assault rates stay high in any major supernatural hub."

"No kidding." Ferret shifters are the worst; they're always finding ways to get around wards. Robbery is practically their culture.

I've never met a ferret shifter I could stand.

But they're still better than the volatile nature of most prey shifters. Wolves, bears, panthers—their bestial sides are brutal.

Especially around the opposite sex.

As a woman, finding yourself near a strange prey shifter in the middle of the night is a situation you don't usually want to be in.

Though, you know—sometimes it's fun and you play with them in a public bathroom. But we don't talk about that.

"So, about that shifter the other night—"

Okay, I guess we're talking about that.

"What shifter?" I play oblivious. Penelope rarely grills me on my bad decisions, but I guess this is one of those times.

"You know, Mr. Bathroom."

Fuck. Yeah, I should have known she figured that out.

"What about him?" Remembering how he looked at me when he left the office, I sift through a pile of broken porcelain pieces with a little too much fervor, nicking my index finger.

Son of a bitch.

Penelope sits on the ground beside me, grabbing one of the larger pieces and setting it to the side. "First, it's abhorrent that you'd throw a genuine Meissen on the floor. Maybe I would have overlooked it if you'd thrown it at Scott, but the floor?"

I roll my eyes. The other reason Penelope's here: To give the broken Meissen a new life.

We've dug all the pieces out of my trash can, and she's bound and determined to start her own little jigsaw puzzle. She even has a small kit of specialized glue for the occasion.

"Pippa, we've been over this. Now get back to the subject."

"Right. McSexy McBathroom." She inspects my face. "Was it good?"