At Last by Billy London

abruptly.
    “Then what?”
    “I did not just fuck her, Court. She was my girlfriend. For two years. Then Chris the man showed up and started fucking up everything.”
    “So he stole her off you?”
    “Let’s just say I didn’t know she was gone until I found her in his back pocket, to be metaphoric.”
    “You caught them?”
    “Bare arsed. There was annoyance, pain, suffering, yadda, yadda. I got over it.”
    “Oh my God,” I whispered. “Coincidentally, during all this pain and suffering and having to live with the cheating bastards…when did you…when did you…decide to pick out my email address and start writing to me?”
    “There was a sufficient grieving period.”
    “Of how long?”
    “Seven, eight weeks.”
    “And out of all the girls in his group email, why did you pick me?”
    “You don’t believe it, but he likes you. He’s always liked you. He would talk about you to wind Melissa up on the perfect level of adoration from a woman. When he got that email from you asking about me, he didn’t acknowledge me for two days straight.”
    “Oh God…”
    Ryan was talking as if on automatic. “I emailed you, told him about it, and he and Melissa had one of their many rows about his feelings for you that night. I had a celebratory beer in your name.”
    “Thank you,” I said dully. “I hope you enjoyed it. I hope it was all worth this feeling right now, this minute. I really hope you feel like you’ve achieved something. At my expense.”
    “Court, it may have started out like that…”
    “Until what,” I asked, “you felt obligated to fuck me? Give me a little reward for being such a massive part in the get-one-over-on-Chris scheme?”
    “It’s not like that at all. You know that!”
    “I know exactly sod all, mate. Thank you; you seem to be giving out lessons all over the place today.” I started shaking really badly. “So what was the end result supposed to be? Chris dumps Melissa for me and she cries on your shoulder? What?”
    “Court…” He started to curve his arm around my shoulders.
    “Don’t. You. Dare. Touch. Me.” I warned.
    “Listen to me—I was in a pretty dark place. All right? Probably not the best time to tell you this, but I thought I was going to marry Mel, and I caught her cheating with that prick. Then I had to live with them for months on end. You would have done some pretty inexcusable things too.”
    “Not to someone who didn’t deserve it,” I murmured. “I feel so utterly stupid. All those girls in there thinking what the hell is she doing with him. I should tell them it’s a grand master plan.”
    “Please don’t say things like that.”
    “I need to get out of here…”
    “No, talk to me. Listen. When that email from you turned up, I was flattered. Of course I was—you’re gorgeous. And then I got to know you. I stopped messing around when you didn’t want to email anymore and I spent the day taking that photograph for you. And then you wrote that mental, rambling letter to me and I was completely hooked. I carried that silly letter with me everywhere. I mean for fuck’s sake, I still do.”
    “You're a liar,” I choked. I needed to get out of here; I couldn’t breathe.
    “Here, look!” He fumbled in his trouser pocket and handed it to me, French postmark and all. “I’d see your name on my inbox and I’d be grinning at everyone the whole day. I’d get a call from you and I wouldn’t sleep as well as when I heard your voice…”
    “I don’t want to hear this,” I told him, thrusting the letter into his chest and struggling to get past him. But he held me still, tucking the letter back to safety in his jacket.
    “Whatever it started out as, I fell in love with you, I swear.”
    “NO!” I screamed at him. “Let me go, leave me alone. I can’t be around you…”
    His arms went around me so fast, pulling me tightly to him. I fell against him and burst into tears. He kept whispering to me that he was sorry, so sorry and that