Chapter 17
We were out on a date, wandering around town on a Saturday afternoon, letting the day take us wherever it wanted. I told myself I wouldn’t let suspicion ruin this. No stress. No drama. Just us.
But my gut wouldn’t shut up.
Every time Chase looked down at his phone, something inside me tightened. My heart raced, my breathing felt shallow, and I kept telling myself to ignore it. To just enjoy the day. To pretend everything was fine.
We held hands, talked about our week, laughed a little. He seemed okay. Normal. Which meant I shouldn’t worry… right?
“Who are you texting, babe?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
“Oh, the guys in the group chat,” he said.
“Oh. Okay.”
He squeezed my hand. “Where do you want to go next?”
“Ice cream?”
“That sounds good to me.”
We walked to the nearest ice cream shop, the sun warm on our backs, clouds scattered across the sky like nothing was wrong.
Inside the parlor, we ordered our ice cream. I paid — I didn’t mind. Things are different now; it doesn’t always have to be the guy.
We found a table, and as I sat down, Chase said, “I’m gonna use the bathroom real quick. I’ll leave my phone here since I don’t need it.”
“Yeah, I’ll watch our stuff.”
The moment the bathroom door shut, my pulse spiked.
I shouldn’t look.
I shouldn’t invade his privacy.
I shouldn’t—
Forget it.
I grabbed his phone, unlocked it, and went straight to his messages. Then Instagram. Then the DMs.
And there she was.
Evelyn.
“Aha… there you are,” I whispered.
I opened the conversation.
My stomach dropped.
He’d been talking to her behind my back.
He’d been dating her when he first met me.
He lied. Straight to my face. For months.
I kept scrolling, trying to make sense of it, trying to breathe, trying not to fall apart right there in the middle of the ice cream shop.
Two minutes passed. Then I heard the bathroom door open.
I shoved the phone back exactly where it had been and forced my face into something neutral.
Chase sat down. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling okay. Are you?”
“Yeah, I am.”
We ate our ice cream before it melted. I checked the time — 3:30 p.m. The sun was still bright, but everything inside me felt dim.
After we finished, I told him I needed the bathroom. Inside, I washed my hands and stared at myself in the mirror.
“Lola… what do I do?” I whispered. “He doesn’t know I snooped. I love him with all my heart, but the red flag is right in front of me. And I’m ignoring it. I want to talk to him. I want to fix this. But I don’t know how.”
I took a few deep breaths, dried my hands, and walked out.
“I’m ready to go if you are,” I said.
“I’m ready,” he replied, smiling like nothing was wrong.
Hours later, the sun had set and we were walking down the strip near the Glendale Galleria in Los Angeles. We joked around, talked lightly, and tried to keep things easy.
Then, out of nowhere, he said, “I’m part of the LGBT community.”
“Oh? You are?”
“I’m not straight. I’m pansexual.”
“What’s that?”
“I like men and women. I’m in the community.”
It surprised me, but I nodded. “Interesting. I didn’t know that. So… you like both genders?”
“I like women mainly.”
We kept talking, eventually drifting to another topic.
The date ended, and we went home separately.
Later, he texted:
Do you still love me?
I stared at the message. I did love him. But he was hurting me, even if he didn’t know it yet.
Of course I do. Do you?
I do. You mean the world to me.
It made me smile — and I hated that it did.
Then he added:
I found someone who’s willing to be open with being my girlfriend on the side in this open relationship.
A bomb dropped straight onto my chest.
“Oh… that’s great,” I typed, even though it wasn’t.
I haven’t found anyone open‑minded enough to be part of this.
Anyway, goodnight.
He replied:
Don’t forget you’re mine though. You always will be, no matter what.
I felt something inside me twist.
“I hope so. Good night. Talk to you tomorrow.”
Love you. Good night.
Love you too.
I put my phone down, buried my face in my pillow, and screamed until the frustration burned out of me.
Then I lay down, exhausted, and tried to sleep.