Chapter 18 #2
My heart did a little flutter when I imagined what Kane might do when he saw me in it. I rarely dressed up when we were together, but when I did, he always made a point not to let me leave the house without at least one orgasm first.
I immediately put a stop to that train of thought.
There will be none of that tonight. I’m just glad we can talk to each other again.
Maybe that means we can at least be friends.
The thought of not having him in my life is a kind of grief I can’t even imagine.
There’s no universe in which he and I aren’t intertwined.
Even though the thought of him someday finding someone else shreds me to pieces more than anything my parents ever did, I would endure it for him.
There’s very little I wouldn’t endure for that man.
He has had all my firsts: the first guy I had sex with, the first one I gave my heart to, the one I fell in love with so easily it scares me. The one who stood by me on some of the darkest days of my life. The one who ruined me for any man after.
I take my makeup bag and dress into the employee restroom, hoping it was cleaned before Keith left so I can just get ready and go.
The night shift is here to sit with the dogs and rougher intakes overnight.
Sharlene believes in never leaving the shelter completely empty after a particularly hard case was left alone all night and sadly didn’t make it.
I’m not sure she has ever forgiven herself for not being here.
As I start to apply my mascara, my phone buzzes somewhere on the counter.
I dig under the pile of products I have yet to put away and find my phone shoved inside the makeup bag.
The pink checkered print bag was way too expensive—a gift from Kane last Christmas that also came loaded with brand-new versions of all my everyday makeup products.
I free it from the mess’s clutches to see Morgan calling. I blow out a breath, already knowing what she’s calling for.
“Hello,” I say, putting my phone down on speaker so I can finish up my mascara.
“Are you getting ready?” she implores, ignoring my greeting and going right for what she called for.
“Yes, Mom,” I sigh.
“Just making sure you’re not a chicken shit and somehow halfway to Canada to avoid your feelings,” she says, smugness in her voice.
“I can still make it to Toronto in eighteen hours, and you would all be none the wiser,” I tease.
“Please, as if Marcus wouldn’t have clocked it and informed us all what freeway you were taking on your way out of here.”
“He is nuts, isn’t he?”
“Oh yeah. I stopped sharing a long time ago, when he started showing up on my dates because he said he didn’t trust men,” she scoffs.
“He just used my phone, you know. He didn’t stop tracking you,” I confess, knowing Morgan is probably going to lose it on him the next time they’re together. I welcome the chance to see it after they pushed me and Kane together.
“How dare you, Avery? That is against the best friend code,” she says, faux anger lacing her tone.
“You’re both my best friends, and you know what—you deserve it after being in cahoots with Marcus and Grayson to get me to go with Kane today,” I mention as I finish with my lipstick and cap the tube—the blood red color making my eyes brighten further.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she muses, pure innocence dripping from her words.
“I love you guys, but you’re not exactly as subtle as you think you are. You practically dragged me to the bar, knowing Marcus was there, and were willing to miss the farmers market,” I reply, unconvinced by her nonchalant attitude.
“Whatever. I did nothing but try to encourage my best friend to get out more. Sue me for caring, I can afford it,” she says, and I laugh at her.
She always has a way of making me feel lighter.
“Go finish getting ready and send me pictures. I expect a full, detailed breakdown of the night when you get home.”
We say bye, and I hang up.
I look at myself in the mirror to make sure there is nothing I missed. The smoky eye I decided on is deeper than what I usually do.
My eyes have always been my best feature.
Combined with my pale skin and dark hair, I always knew how I looked to boys, then to men.
I grew up with naturally blonde parents, so it was another way I never felt as if I fit in.
Somehow, the dark hair skipped a generation and landed on me.
I remember all our family photos as a kid and the stark contrast between them and me.
My mother would note my hair and how dark it was, how her bouncy blonde was a gift from her own mother, and somehow make mine feel as if I was born cursed.
She would talk about coloring it nearly constantly, and my grandfather was the only one willing to make her stop.
He would always be the one to calm her down on my behalf.
He died when I was twelve, and it was unmanageable to be around my mother afterward.
No one would stop her from criticizing me constantly, always comparing me to her.
I started wearing bigger T-shirts to hide any weight I had gained, even though I was always thinner than most girls.
There was always a way to be better in her eyes, something I have never achieved.
Since going no-contact, I have started to appreciate myself more: my dark hair, always long and slightly wavy, the perfect beach wave.
I take in my red lips as they gleam under the bathroom lights.
The lighting is less than flattering, but somehow, I don’t look half bad.
I take the velvet dress off the hanger and slide it onto my body.
I decided against Spanx, not wanting to hate myself later for them.
I have always been self-conscious about my weight.
I went from a kid being bullied on the playground for being anorexic, to gaining a healthy amount of weight after I met Kane, to now learning to embrace the curves I’ve grown into as a woman.
It always helped that no matter what size I was, or how much weight I gained in college, Kane never looked at me any differently.
He would trace my body with his eyes and hands, telling me how beautiful I was.
He would only encourage me to work out if it was what I wanted.
He would help me at the gym and always make sure I knew how much he desired me.
Little by little, I started to fall back in love with myself.
Now I can look at myself and really appreciate the way I look.
The velvet clings to my body like a second skin as I put on my heels and snap in my earrings.
I stare at myself in the mirror and take a deep breath.
This is the best I’m going to get. I spent a little more time than usual, knowing the type of crowd Elena surrounds herself with and the way they’ll size me up next to Kane, measuring me against some standard they deem acceptable for their son.
I clean up my mess and take everything with me, waving goodbye to Sam, the night-shift full-timer, who’s behind the desk when I pass.
The April night is thick, the days becoming warmer than usual in the south for this time of year. There’s heaviness in the air, and the humidity clinging to my skin is a telltale sign of a good storm.
I get into my car and start it up, letting the cool AC blast through the vents and cool down my overheated skin.
The thought of seeing Kane in just under thirty minutes has me working up a sweat.
I take off, trying to let the words of the song playing on the radio give me strength to get through this night with at least a couple pieces of myself intact.