5. Chapter Five - Lexie
Lexie
The buzz of my phone is a constant companion this evening, its vibrations making it skitter across the kitchen table as I wait for it to stop. I sit there, staring at the screen as Derek’s name lights up yet again with another call and a part of me is willing it to just fall off the table and break.
Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment. Maybe I’ve got a masochistic streak in me that I hadn’t been aware of.
Either way, I’m paralyzed. All I can do is watch the screen as my mind fights a battle between blocking him and banning him from my life or answering it and pretending nothing ever happened. Pretend we’re back to last week, when everything was great—before I felt like a fool for not seeing the signs.
But no. There is no way I could live with myself if I went back to him. Instead, I sit here, wallowing in self-pity, trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong.
Where were the signs? He didn’t guard his phone excessively or grow distant. The only hint was his long shifts, but I’ve worked in restaurant kitchens before; they’re nothing out of the ordinary.
I don’t even hear the first knock on my apartment door, too far gone in my thoughts, but when Bailey calls my name, I snap out of it and grimace. I’m not really up for company.
“Lexie, open up!” he shouts and bangs on the door so loudly I’m afraid he’s pushing it off its hinges, so I hurry to open it, surprised to see both Bailey and Alan.
“See? Told you she’s throwing herself a pity party,” Bailey says with a wide grin that my fingers are itching to wipe off his face and pushes past me.
“What’s a pity party without guests, right?” Alan gives me a friendly nod as he walks inside, setting two bottles on the table before heading to the kitchen to grab glasses while Bailey drops a heavy sounding bag on the table.
“Dad insisted on a mixer,” Bailey whisper-shouts and points at the bag. “Amateur.”
“Responsible,” Alan corrects him, and despite my foul mood, the edges of my lips tug into a small smile at their banter. I hate to admit it, but it’s a good distraction.
My phone screen lights up with an incoming call again, but before I can even get in my head about it, Bailey grabs the phone and carries it over to my couch, putting it under a pillow.
“There. Forget about him,” he says proudly and points at one of the chairs we got for my kitchen. “Sit down,” he orders, and as soon as my butt hits the chair, I have a dubious looking drink in front of me.
“What is it?”
“You don’t need to concern yourself with that,” Bailey says. “It’s good. Trust me.”
“I-” but before I can object, Bailey is already sitting next to me and clinks his glass against mine.
“To better times,” he toasts and takes a sip, narrowing his eyes at me until I do the same.
“And new beginnings,” Alan adds and clinks glasses with me as soon as I finish my sip.
The liquid burns all the way down my throat, and I cough, my face contorting into a grimace like I’ve just bit into a lemon.
Alan winces as well, but Bailey remains unbothered, raising his eyebrows at us and totally judging as I reach for a juice to mix into my drink to take the edge off.
“Your phone buzzing is ruining the vibe.” Bailey glares at the couch. We can still hear the buzzing, a collective sigh of relief leaving us when the call stops. “Anyways, for this evening, we’re all yours. We’re here to make your shitty mood less shitty.”
“We’ve been there,” Alan adds, his voice soft, and he gives my shoulder a comforting squeeze. “We know how it feels. When Bailey’s mom cheated, I was…” He pauses, glancing at Bailey, and exhales a deep sigh. “Yeah, let’s just say we’ve been there.”
My eyes dart between the two of them, wide with shock.
“Oh my God. I had no idea. I’m so sorry, Alan.”
“And she even cheated with his best friend,” Bailey adds in a pretend whisper. “Then there was a whole custody battle, so be glad you never had kids with that asshat.”
“Wait, so what happened?”
“She lost the custody battle when Bailey declared he wanted nothing to do with her and the judge let him live with me. She left, and we haven’t seen her since.”
“Yeah, but if I ever do, oh boy, do I have things to say now that it’s been a few years.” Bailey’s fingers grip his glass so tightly that his knuckles turn white, and I’m scared he’ll break it.
“It’s wasted breath,” Alan says with a calming hand on Bailey’s shoulder, then gives me a pointed look. “Same goes for Derek.”
“I just don’t get it,” I say, my shoulders slumping. “Everything seemed fine. I don’t know where it all went wrong. I keep thinking back, wonder what I did wrong, but I come up empty. I mean, there must have been a reason, right?”
“Cheaters don’t need reasons,” Alan says and clears his throat. “There’s no logic behind it—just the thrill of sneaking around.”
“Then why won’t he leave me alone?” My voice trembles as I try to swallow the lump forming in my throat. “I can’t have meant that much to him, why put in the effort now?”
“Because you were his safety net,” Bailey says bluntly, placing a comforting hand over mine. “His girlfriend was the thrill and you were the one he probably saw himself building a future with. Now that he’s left with nothing, neither a fiancé nor a girlfriend, he’s trying to get back with the safe choice. At least that’s my theory.”
“And it makes an annoying amount of sense,” I whisper, tears spilling over that I angrily wipe away.
“Exactly. So block him,” Alan says as we hear my phone buzzing again. Bailey jumps up and retrieves it from under the couch pillow, handing it to me with an expectant expression.
Taking a deep breath, I take the phone from his hand and finally do it: Decline. Block. Delete.
“There you go, girl!” Bailey clinks his glass against mine again, grinning from ear to ear. “Here’s to healing.”
“You did well,” Alan nods approvingly.
“I just hope he leaves me alone,” I say softly and pinch the bridge of my nose, right between my eyes, hoping it will make the numb pain behind my eyes go away.
“He probably won’t,” Alan admits, “but we’ve got your back.”
Like clockwork, Derek shows up every day. Before we open and during lunch, he hangs out in front of the store, trying to find an in, but Alan is always there.
“I’ll be damned if that fool sets another foot in my damn bakery,” he’d muttered, right after coincidentally dousing Derek in our dirty mop water.
With each passing day, the pain lessens the tiniest bit, my anger simmering into indifference slowly but surely—at least on the surface. Inside, it still feels like shards of glass cutting me open every single time I see him, every time the question ‘why wasn’t I enough?’ crosses my mind.
And I hate it. I hate that he makes me feel the worst self-doubt I’ve ever experienced, like the biggest fool on earth, while he continues to strut through life without any of those worries. It pisses me off.
“I finally know where I’ve seen your crush before,” Bailey bursts out just after arriving back from his lunch break.
“What?” I ask, confused. “Where would you have seen him before?
“Jackson Walker! He’s an actor! His face is plastered all over London. It’s on the busses and plastered on buildings. And let me tell you, he looks far better in real life.”
My jaw drops. “Are you serious? He’s famous?”
“Take a walk tonight. You’ll see for yourself,” he says with a wink before heading out.
I manage to fight the urge to google him until close-up, but finally, I’m alone in the bakery, only a bit of sweeping left to do for the evening and a quiet minute to pull up the search engine. Bailey started feeling off in the afternoon and closed up early to catch some rest. Alan just went out to get him meds and groceries when he got a call from him, predicting his timely demise due to a cold and asking his dad to buy him meds and groceries to make his last days on this earth bearable.
Alan had been worried about leaving me here alone, but I can manage that half an hour it takes me to clean up.
But right as I’m starting to type Jackson’s apparent last name into my browser, a knock on the door sends a shiver down my spine, and I know who’s there without even checking.
Derek.
“Lexie!” he calls, fists pounding on the glass part of the door and rattling the door handle. “Come on. You need to come out eventually.”
I force myself to take a deep breath and will my heart to calm down. I’ve never known Derek to be a violent man, but I also never thought he’d be a cheater. Subtly, I take out my phone and hit ‘record’ on my camera before I reply.
“Go away, Derek. We’re done. You need to leave.”
“I’m not leaving until we talk,” he says stubbornly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
How can I make him leave? I don’t really want him to know I live upstairs now, so how can I lose him quickly? I have plans tonight.
Granted, they involve a bag of microwave popcorn and one of Jackson’s movies, because I’m curious like that, but they are plans nonetheless.
“She said no,” a voice suddenly cuts in from behind Derek, and my whole body sags in relief. Thank God, I really didn’t want to have to call the police.
My heart starts beating faster when I see Jackson. He towers over Derek, his presence calm but undeniably commanding, standing uncomfortably close to him, so Derek needs to lean his head way back to look at him.
“You’ve got to let it go, man,” Jackson says, stepping by Derek to put himself between my ex and the door. “She told you to leave. Don’t be the guy who turns into a stalker.”
“Stalker? I just want to talk to my fiancée.”
“Ex-fiancée,” I point out but neither of them is paying me attention. They’re locked in a hard stare at each other, neither making a move, until after several minutes, Derek takes a step back and breaks eye contact.
“This isn’t over,” Derek hisses as he retreats, pointing at me. “You owe me a conversation.”
“I don’t owe you a fucking thing,” I fire back. “Aside from a hand imprint on your cheek, maybe,” I say way quieter, so only Jackson can hear it.
He watches as Derek climbs down the stairs and disappears into the night before he turns around and sizes me up with a worried look. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks to you,” I say, unlocking the door to let him in.
Without hesitation, Jackson grabs the phone from my hand.
“Do you mind if I stop the recording?”
“Go ahead,” I tell him, touched that he asked instead of just doing it. He types something in and hands it back to me.
“Here’s my number. If he comes back, no matter what time, call me. I’ll be here in a flash.”
I take the phone out of reflex, staring at the new contact, dumbfounded.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you. I can just call the police.”
“I mean it, Lexie,” he says, his voice warm but firm. “We both know the police might or might not be here quickly. Please call me if you need me.”
“Thank you, Jackson.”
He gives me one more reassuring smile, then turns to leave, and I quickly lock the door behind him.
Watching him walk away, it finally feels like I can breathe again. As fast as humanly possible, I finish up the rest of my closing up chores, then race upstairs and hide under my covers.
What the hell just happened? When did I become a damsel in distress, having to be rescued by a knight in shining armor?
Speaking of knight.
I look at the stack of DVDs Bailey got me. The tv they had in storage might not be smart enough for streaming services, but it’s definitely smart enough to connect to the equally old DVD player. We were supposed to watch them together, but who knows when he’ll get over his man-cold.
With a grin I get up and look at one of his other historical movies before I open the case and start the DVD player.