He sat in the back of the quiet coffee shop where they met, almost three years ago to the day. The bouquet of red roses was resting on the table between the two identical soy lattes and he smirked, looking at them, thinking the day and location she'd chosen for this conversation meant she was finally ready to pick up where they'd left off two months ago. He heard the bell above the door jingling its familiar toll and he turned his head, looking for the girl whose heart he'd stolen all those months ago.
But he was saw a woman.
Gone was the timid girl he'd last seen as she ran down the long driveway leading away from his home.
Gone was the girl who would take his random bouts of rage and apologize later, as if it were her own fault.
Gone was the girl who had allowed him to go too far, who he had put his hands on.
She had gained weight, but on her slim build, it had only made her more curvaceous: the grey pencil skirt was clinging to her hips where it hung limply before; the white button down was almost straining across her breasts, which had grown fuller. His eyebrows rose as he looked at her, as he became hungry for her once again. His eyes dragged up her body, from head to toe.
And that's when he noticed the box tucked under her arms.
He stood to greet her, to kiss her as he always did, but she dodged his lips, leaning down to rest the box on the chair next to him, the chair he had intended for her to sit in. She didn't even give the red roses a second glance.
"I ordered your coffee," he said, when she still hadn't made a move to sit. She dragged her eyes to the tan liquid in the white porcelain mug.
"I appreciate that, but I take my coffee black, with two sugars."
His eyebrows raised again. "Since when? You've always drank soy lattes."
With an exasperated sigh, she sat down in the chair opposite him, across the table, and much too far for his liking. "Since always, Tam. I've always drank black coffee. You drink soy lattes, so you always ordered me soy lattes."
His brows scrunched together in confusion, but before he could speak, she continued.
"You said you were free the whole day today, right?"
"I cleared my schedule for you, babe," he said, flashing her that golden smile that once made her heart melt. She had to fight a shudder as the same smile now made her skin crawl.
"Can I come over?" She asked, reaching for the latte, even though she'd just all but stated she wouldn't drink it.
He took a sip of his own coffee, resting back in his chair. "Of course." His eyes fell to her top again, where the buttons were straining against her cleavage. She clearly hadn't been shopping since she left him, not with the way her clothes were fitting her now. And she clearly wasn't working out now that he wasn't there to stay on her case about it either. He'd have to fix both of those things. He'd send her out with his credit card first thing tomorrow to shop and would have a personal trainer waiting at the house when she came home.
She took and drink of her coffee and scrunched her nose at the artificial sweetener he had loaded into the beverage. She set the cup down on the table between them. "Good. This," she said, laying her hand on top of the black box, "is everything you left at my apartment."
He had the unfortunate timing of taking a drink right as she spoke and as he coughed, the drink sprayed over his crisp, white dress shirt. "Excuse me?"
She stared him directly in the eyes. Blue-grey met green in a stare down for the ages. After a moment, he blinked and looked away, attempting to mop the mess he'd made up with a stack of napkins he grabbed off a nearby table.
"This box is full of all of the things you left in my apartment. Toothbrush, razor, watches, clothes, iPad, laptop, all of it. I'll be following you to your house to get all of my things."
It was at that moment he glanced over his shoulder, towards the parking lot, to the exact spot he knew her car would be in, and it was. But beside it, sat a large, black truck. And inside, he could make out three male bodies and lots and lots of boxes. He looked back to her.
"What the hell is going on here, Feyre? I thought you wanted to talk about us, about what happened?" He wanted to explode with rage, but he couldn't. That is what had led them to this meeting.
She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "We're through, Tamlin."
"We're through?" He said, his voice beginning to rise, and she threw a couple quick glances around the shop to make sure no one was watching. They weren't, but she knew they would be by the end of this ordeal. "We have one little fight and you're done? Three years down the drain?"
"It was more than a 'little fight', and you know it, Tam. You put me in the hospital for five days. I didn't press charges and I came home, but then you locked me up. I'm not an animal and I'm not your pet." The rage beginning to boil beneath her skin was completely foreign to her, but she was relishing in it. "Did you know that they had to give me nutrients through an IV in the hospital? They said I was severely underweight."
He scoffed. "That's nonsense, you looked fine. You could stand to lose a couple pounds now, honestly."
She only stared at him, mouth agape. "I can't believe after everything, you still think you can say that to me."
He reached across the table and attempted to take her hand. She slid it beneath the surface and held it in her own. He closed his in a fist and rested it on the tabletop. "I love you, Feyre. And that's the only reason I tell you things like that, because I want us to be open and honest with each other. I want you to be the best version of yourself."
Sighing through her nose, she closed her eyes and shook her head. "You really believe it, don't you? You think you're innocent in all of this."
He said, "I mean, I know I've lost my temper a couple of times, but I would say the blame is pretty equally ours."
Shaking her head, she stood, leaving the roses and the box where they were. "You continually tore me down, Tam. You made me feel like shit about myself so I would have to come running back to you to hear something good. You were a perfect gentleman in the beginning, but I don't know what happened to you," she paused, pulling her purse over her head and resting it on her shoulder. "I'm going over to your house. I'm getting all of my stuff and I will leave the key on the kitchen counter."
He stared up at her and reached for her hand once again. "We can talk this out, Feyre."
She stepped back and said "I really don't think you get it, so I'll put this in simple terms: I'm done, Tamlin. I won't let you push me around anymore. I'm going to save myself, and cut you out of my life. You went too far last time."
She turned and began to walk away. He stood and followed after her, yelling. "I made you! I'm the one who put your name out there! Before you met me, you were a no-name artist with a few paintings hanging in a coffee shop!" He gestured to the shop behind them as they crossed the threshold and stepped into the afternoon sun.
She spun on her heel and was in his face, causing him to take a step back. "And I am grateful for all that you have done for me, Tam. But now? You don't own me."
He watched as she got in her car and pulled away, the truck following behind. He didn't want to be there with them, didn't want to see the boxes of things leaving the home they shared together. So he sat the shop, going through the box she'd brought for him, and after a few hours, he gathered himself up and drove home.
The door was locked, the alarm was set and the lights were off, save for the one above the kitchen table. He set his keys on the table by the door and walked into the kitchen, heading for the small nook where he would now eat his meals alone.
Her key was resting next to a folded up letter. Ignoring the former, he picked up the piece of paper and opened it. In her neat script, in the center of the page, was written: "Congratulations, you tore my heart out. I hope you got what you wanted."