He Gave Everyone a Key but Me Chapter 03
“Mr. Mercer, is Ms. Gibson really not upset?”
“Relax. She’s not the type to hold a grudge over little things.”
The moment we left the neighborhood, Amanda stomped her foot on the sidewalk in frustration.
“Claire, what was that all about back there?”
“You’re really just going to stand by and watch him take that young woman home?”
I pulled my coat tighter around myself and looked at the traffic lights flashing at the intersection.
“Amanda, it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“What doesn’t matter?”
“Who he drives home. Who he gives a key to. None of it matters anymore.”
I flagged down a cab, then I practically shoved Amanda into the back seat.
“Go home and get some sleep. Tomorrow, come with me somewhere.”
By the time I got back to the rundown apartment, it was already eleven at night.
This was the place Logan and I had lived in for five years.
The paint was peeling from the walls, and the couch had come from a secondhand store.
I pulled out a huge black garbage bag and started packing.
There really wasn’t much to pack.
For the past five years, every thought I’d had revolved around finding ways to help Logan save money.
The most expensive thing I’d bought for myself was the suit I wore to job interviews.
I opened a drawer. Inside sat a yellowed plastic jewelry box.
When I opened it, a pair of cheap silver couple’s rings lay inside.
We’d bought them during Logan’s first year of starting his business from a street vendor for less than ten bucks.
Back then, he’d held my hand and said, “Claire, once I make it, I’ll buy you the biggest diamond ring you’ve ever seen.”
I’d believed him for five years.
Now that he became rich, he paid the down payment on the new condo, with only his name on the deed, and the keys went to his friends.
I tossed the jewelry box into the garbage bag.
Then the matching mugs, the old photo albums, the stuffed animal he’d given me… anything connected to him went into the bag.
At two in the morning, I heard the lock turn.
Logan was home.
He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the couch.
A faint citrus perfume lingered on him—the exact brand Tinsley loved.
“Still up?”
His eyes landed on the black garbage bags scattered across the floor, and he paused.
“What are you doing cleaning out stuff in the middle of the night?”
I tied off the final bag. “Seasonal cleanup.”
Logan walked over and wrapped his arms around me from behind, his chin settling on my shoulder.
“Today wasn’t fair to you. I’m sorry.”
His voice was low and tired.
“Tinsley lives pretty far away. Her car broke down halfway home, so I stayed with her until the tow truck got there.”
He closed his eyes as if looking for comfort.
“Claire, once this round of funding is finished, we’ll finally get married.”
“I’ll give you the wedding you’ve always deserved.”
Another empty promise.
I pried his hands away from my waist. “I’m tired.”
His arms froze in midair.
As he watched me walk toward the bedroom, a frown slowly formed between his brows.
“Claire.” He called after me.
“Are you upset because I didn’t give you a key to the new place?”
I stopped.
“It was just renovated. The formaldehyde levels are still too high.”
“I don’t want you living there and getting sick.”
There was a trace of helpless indulgence in his voice.
“Can you stop being so sensitive all the time?”
I didn’t turn around. My hand rested on the bedroom doorknob.
“I know.”
“I’m not blaming you.”
With that, I closed the door, shutting out both his voice and that lingering citrus scent completely.