Chapter Thirteen
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THEN
September 2016
WE HAVEN’T TALKED IN almost two weeks. Correction: she hasn’t talked to me in two weeks. I have occasionally sent a text to check on her, but it’s been radio silence on her end since she left to head back to Savannah after Labor Day. Why haven’t we talked in two weeks? I’m glad you asked. It’s because I got jealous. That little green monster reared its ugly head and I couldn’t reign it in.
Brody Cox. Some aspiring starving artist from SCAD decided to try and make a move on Elizabeth last month while we were at a coffee shop. She had picked a spot at a table near the window while I waited for our drinks, and he took the opportunity to swoop in. After some stupid pickup line, she giggled. She fucking giggled. He had “seen her around campus” and wondered if she wanted to get coffee sometime. He handed her a scrap of paper with his phone number and winked before he left.
“It’s not a big deal, Josh,” she said, stuffing the phone number in her pocket.
“Elizabeth—”
“It’s not like I’m ever going to see him again.” She rolled her eyes and promptly walked out of the coffee shop. The heavy door slammed behind her, catching the attention of the other shop patrons.
That was two weeks before she came home for the holiday weekend, and we spent most of it ignoring each other. She went straight to Nina’s house, sent me a text letting me know she had arrived, and turned off her phone—at least, that’s what I thought. Going radio silent while she was with Nina wasn’t completely out of the norm, especially if she wanted a little extra girl time, so I didn’t think anything of it. But when I arrived at the Villa Estate Sunday morning for a day on the lake, it was pretty obvious something wasn’t right. She spent most of the day with her face in her phone. Occasionally, a smile or a laugh that she’d try to hide would creep its way onto her face. It wasn’t until Nina chastised me later that afternoon for blowing up her phone the past two days that I realized what was going on. A pit formed in my stomach as I apologized to Nina, assured her I would never mean to interrupt their time together, and promised her I would be more mindful next time. She seemed happy enough, but I was left with the knowledge that my girlfriend was talking to someone else.
“How’s Brody?” I asked that night, walking into my condo. She would be staying at my place for the rest of the weekend, which meant she’d get the guest room to herself because there wasn’t anyone else around to find that odd. We’d go to the Davis Labor Day party tomorrow, and then she’d wake up early Tuesday to go back to Savannah for class in the afternoon.
“I don’t know—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” I stopped her.
Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she settled on saying nothing.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Elizabeth? You’ve spent the last two days texting him and I get a fucking lecture from Nina because she thinks it’s me? Did you even spend time with her or were you too preoccupied talking to your latest conquest?”
“Grow up, Josh,” Elizabeth hissed. The pointed end of her black nail glared at me across the kitchen island. “It’s none of your business who I talk to. We aren’t married. We aren’t together. You have no right—”
“I have a fucking piece of paper that says otherwise.”
“And I have a piece of paper that says I’m allowed to date outside of this fucking arrangement.”
Line 7, Item B.
I know.
At the time of signing the papers, it seemed like an okay idea, but now…
The thought of someone else anywhere near her makes the adrenaline course through my veins at rapid speed. My hands clenched at my sides at the thought of her sneaking him into the townhouse, taking him upstairs, and letting him touch her in the same bed we’ve shared countless times. The same I’ve only ever slept next to her in, both of us tiptoeing up to the line of something more, but never stepping over it.
“So, fuck you, Josh. Take your unfair jealousy and shove it straight up your ass.”
“Unfair? You’re my—”
“I don’t care, Josh. We are not together. We are not in love and we are not going to live happily ever after. We are only together on paper and only because we both needed a way to get what we wanted. You have no right to be upset if I’m talking to someone else, someone who is there.”
“Someone who is there?” I scoff. “Elizabeth, I—”
“Yes! Someone who isn’t going to run the second things start to get real. Someone who—”
“Who’s running, Liz? Because it sure as hell isn’t me! You’re the one talking to some other guy. I haven’t so much as looked at another woman since this whole thing started. You’re the one running, not me.”
Her nails clicked against the countertop in a uniform rhythm and I awaited the fury behind her next words, but it never came. She plucked her purse from the island and walked to the door without a second glance. “I’m staying at Nina’s.”
The door slammed behind her, and my feet carried me to the threshold, ready to follow her, but no matter how tight I gripped the doorknob, my hand wouldn’t turn it.
When I went a week without any sort of communication, I called the only person I could discuss the situation with: my mom. I called her before school started on Monday morning, but after I knew she would be on at least her second cup of coffee. She answered the phone with surprise. “Joshua?”
“Mom—”
“Is everything okay? I’m at work and—”
“Elizabeth and I had a fight.” The words were met with silence, but I knew she was there. I could hear the sounds of a copier and a distant conversation in the background. She was probably in the teacher’s lounge getting ready for the school day, which was set to start in an hour. “We got into an argument after the party at the Villas and—”
“Well, that’s to be expected,” she said with a slight chuckle. “Couples have arguments sometimes.”
“But, we haven’t talked in—”
“Joshua.” Her tone cut me off immediately. With a sigh, she excused herself from the others on her side of the line. “Josh, you cannot mess this up. Do you understand me? If you screw this up, you’re not just losing this amazing opportunity that you have been given, but you could be implicated in what happened to that boy. You should be grateful for whatever Elizabeth gives you considering that without this arrangement, you would’ve never ended up with someone like her.”
“But she’s been talking to some—”
“Let her,” Mom snapped. “If she wants to talk to a hundred other guys, you let her. Why do you care who Elizabeth decides to spend her time with? Falling in love was never part of the agreement.”
Mom was right. Elizabeth falling in love with me wasn’t a requirement of the contract. She could talk to or date anyone she wanted, as long as they didn’t interfere with our agreement.
“Right.” I sighed. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”
“Don’t mess this up, Josh. You can’t afford to lose her,” Mom said. “Now, get ready for work or you’re going to be late.”
Without saying goodbye, I dropped the phone on the counter and my head fell in my hands. Why can’t I just let Elizabeth do what she wants? Why do I have to get that pit in my stomach at the thought of her being with someone else? This was never about falling in love, it was about getting what we both wanted. What we both needed. And I needed to be grateful for what I had.
After the past two weeks, I considered not coming tonight. I know she probably doesn’t want to see me, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let this go by without at least checking on her. Tomorrow is the fourth anniversary of her parents’ murder, the night she almost died. I don’t know much about what happened that night, but a double homicide (almost triple) isn’t exactly common in our neck of the woods.
News traveled fast about the Cain boy who sought revenge on his family for being cut off.
I told myself I wouldn’t bother her. I’d give her some space. She was probably finding solace in Brody anyway. But the more I thought about it, the more it ate away at me, and I couldn’t bring myself to just sit at home. I had the rest of the week off work anyway, so I packed a bag and drove to Savannah, surprised to find the house dark and quiet since it was only ten o’clock at night.
Now, I’m not sure if she’s even home. Or maybe she’s just in the kitchen; you can’t see the light on with the front blinds closed.
Using my key, I open the door to find the house dark and still, but then I see a sliver of light pouring down from the upstairs hallway. I close the door loud enough that if she’s awake she’ll hear it before I climb the stairs.
From the door, I can see that the TV is off and the bathroom door is closed, which means she’s probably in bed. God, I hope I’m not about to walk in on her and Brody doing something. Shaking the thoughts from my mind, I turn the corner and find her in bed…alone. She’s sound asleep in the warm light from the lamp above her, a book at her side and her glasses still on her face. Her eyes are slightly red and puffy like maybe she had been crying earlier.
I slide the book from her hands, resting it upside down on the nightstand, the portrait of a pale-faced woman with dark brown hair in a white dress staring back at me. Pride and Prejudice . How many copies of this book does she have? I swear I’ve seen a hardcover copy with an intricate design before. Who needs more than one copy of the same book?
It’s not important right now, Josh.
Gently slipping the glasses from the end of her nose, I fold them and place them next to the book, just as her eyes flutter open. Brown eyes stare up at me in confusion, and when I offer her a soft smile, her eyes begin to well with tears. I don’t even think about it, I crawl into the bed and pull her close. Tears soak the front of my shirt as sobs rack through her.
Despite what she said that night in my condo, despite the radio silence since she walked out, I know I made the right choice.
Waking up the next morning, I’m surprised to find the bed next to me empty. A cool breeze creeps its way into the room, rattling the blinds on the back of the balcony door, bringing a mixture of fall air and the faint scent of fresh coffee that wafts in from the hallway. The clock on the nightstand tells me it’s past eight in the morning, and with a groan, I drag myself into the bathroom. A quick search of both rooms comes up empty for the T-shirt I had been wearing last night, but the mystery is solved when I walk into the kitchen. It hangs low on her hips, covering the pair of pajama shorts she wears. Her hair has been pulled into a messy bun, but a few pieces have fallen out, falling in her face as she drops chocolate chips in the perfect circles of pancake batter. I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder. “You sleep okay?”
She doesn’t offer a verbal response. Instead, she leans back further into my embrace and flips over the pancakes.
“I’m sorry, Liz.” I sigh. “I hate that you left with things that way, and I’m sorry for showing up when you told me not to, but—”
“I’m glad you came.”
Well, that was easier than expected. But why? I expected her to put up a much bigger fight after how things went that night in my condo.
Elizabeth pulls the pancakes from the griddle and turns in my arms. “Thank you for coming, it...it means a lot.”
I don’t know what to say, everything I think of doesn’t sound good enough.
“You were right, Josh. Talking to Brody…I know, technically, we’re allowed to, but it doesn’t feel right. I’m sorry for acting the way I did. I hope you can forgive me.”
Her words light a strange spark of hope in my gut.
“I mean, if I found out you were doing the same thing with some other girl, I would’ve reacted the same way. Regardless of if this thing between us is real or not, whether we stay together in the end or not, I don’t want to share. I won’t expect you to, either. I’m—”
Her words stop short when I kiss her. I don’t know what comes over me, but it’s the only way I can think to respond. Elizabeth melts into me, wrapping her arms around my neck, and she whimpers when I press her against the cabinets. We haven’t kissed since the day I moved her into this townhouse, and fuck, I’m really starting to regret that. The feeling of her body against mine is addicting. I can’t help but think of what it would feel like to be even closer.
“Josh,” she whispers, parting from me. “I really am sorry—”
“You’re mine,” I say the words without a second thought. “Until we sign the papers at the end of it all, you’re mine, and I’m yours. Completely.”