2: 2
Thomas caught up with me right as I reached the parking lot entrance.
He clamped a hand around my wrist, hard, and when I pulled, I couldn't get free.
"Meg! What's your problem?"
His voice was low, edged with irritation.
"It's Ella's engagement party, and you walk out with a face like that in front of everyone. Where does that leave her?"
I looked up at him.
The neon lights spilled from behind him onto that face I'd looked at for eight years, brows knotted tight now, lips pressed thin.
"Thomas, in all these years, what's the most expensive thing you've ever given me?"
He froze for a second.
"That necklace. Twenty-three hundred. You grabbed it at the mall on my birthday, and you said jewelry only needs to get the point across, no need to go expensive."
"But Ella's chain, you flew all the way to Europe for it. Her bracelet, her ring, her earrings, what does all of that add up to?"
My voice stayed even. "And tonight, the drones, the yacht, that five-million necklace of yours. Thomas, explain something to me. What exactly counts as 'getting the point across'?"
His frown pulled tighter. "Why are you comparing yourself to Ella? She's my buddy—"
"Buddy," I laughed once. "You give your buddy a five-million drone show, and you have me hand over a five-dollar gift."
His face changed.
"Meg, don't stand here making a scene. I already explained the thing with your friend to you—"
"Explained what?" I cut him off.
"Every word you explained was just making excuses for yourself."
He was quiet for a few seconds, his face sinking little by little.
Finally he pulled a bank card out of his trouser pocket and flung it at me.
The edge of the card grazed my cheekbone, a sharp, numbing sting.
"You said the money was too little, didn't you?" His voice went cold.
"Take this card, make it up to your friend, buy whatever else you want. Is that enough? If not, I've got more."
I looked down at the card lying on the ground and found it almost funny.
He still thought this was about money.
Eight years, and he had never once truly understood what hurt me.
My phone rang right then.
Thomas glanced at the screen, his brow easing a little, and answered.
"Ella? I'm coming back now... you all keep drinking... don't worry about her..."
He hung up, already two steps into turning away, then paused and looked back over his shoulder.
"Calm yourself down. Stop making trouble out here."
His footsteps faded.
I crouched down and picked up the card.
Turned it over.
On the back, four words written in marker: "For Ella's use only."
So it turned out that even the thing I had to fight to reach already had her name on it.
I closed my hand around the card, nails digging into my palm, a faint ache.
Then I threw it into the trash can beside me.
