Chapter 22 Logan #2
“God, you should see your face right now.” She waves her hand in amusement. “Anyway, I’ll help you fix things if you take me back as a friend.”
I’m getting whiplash. I shake my head in disbelief, then find myself nodding in agreement. “She won’t answer her phone. She blocked me. And Easton won’t answer my calls.”
“He’ll answer mine.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because he thinks I’m unhinged enough to do something about it if he doesn’t.”
I don’t even know what that means, but it’s chilling.
“Come on. He’s home between games this week, and agreed to meet for breakfast.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now. Well,” she pulls out her phone and looks down. “In half an hour. You look like shit, though, so maybe I don’t know. Shower?”
“This new Pearl is taking some getting used to.”
She grins. “Isn’t it great?”
Better than the fake Pearl with the watery eyes, making me think she’s vulnerable when she’s fucking not, anyway.
I shower and dress fast. Half an hour later, Pearl and I are standing outside a diner that looks like a dive.
“You sure this is the place?” I ask, eyeing the exterior with skepticism.
Easton is a pro-football player. He can afford whatever fancy ass brunch spot he wants.
This place is a little run-down, with a sun-bleached Best Coffee in Manhattan sign in the window.
It reminds me of the diner Rose and I ate at in West Virginia.
“Ugh, I know, it looks gross. But he insisted here, or nothing.”
Inside, she moves through the narrow space like she owns it, heels tapping against the peeling linoleum floor. Something in the way she carries herself feels different—like she’s standing taller, more confident. No longer pretending to be meek, less performance.
We spot the top of Eaton’s head, hidden in the back of the diner. He takes up almost the entire bench, especially with the way he’s spreading himself out, likely on purpose. Reluctantly, I take the seat beside Pearl, opposite him.
He’s already eating, doesn’t look up, just stabs his eggs.
“Let’s get this the fuck over with.”
“Oh, Easty, be nice.”
He spears her with a glare. “Do you have any idea what you did to her? Do you feel bad at all?”
Pearl flinches. Clearly not as emotionally detached as she wishes. “Of course I feel bad. That’s why we’re here.”
“No, we’re here because you want your friends to like you again.”
She shrugs. “Who cares why I’m here. Now, are you going to tell us how my dear sister is, or did I drag myself to this dump for nothing?”
Easton glances at the plate in front of him. “Best bennies in the city. Not that you’d understand the quality of a good Eggs Benedict. When was the last time you ate calories just for fun, Pearl?”
“Oh, we’re body-shaming now, are we?”
“Any worse than you body-shaming Rose? I heard about the bridesmaid dress incident.” He mutters something that sounds a lot like psycho under his breath, then takes another stab at his breakfast. Huh. So Easton knew all along the real Pearl.
“Is she okay?” I ask.
He chews, swallows. Glances up at me. I always thought he and Rose were a thing, and I hated him for it, even if I couldn’t name it at the time. Now I see it clearly—he’s the only person who was ever truly in her corner.
“Do you care?”
“I need to know if she’s okay.”
“She’ll be okay. She always is, that’s Rose. Knock her down and she gets back up again, if a little bruised.”
“I don’t want her bruised.”
“Should have thought of that before you fucked her over.”
No shit. He’s not telling me anything I haven’t already told myself, at three in the morning, every night for two weeks.
“I have a plan,” I say. “To help her.” It hadn’t really been a plan so much as an idea that’s been percolating since that horrible fucking breakfast nearly two weeks ago, but it’s solidifying into something tangible now.
I lay it out, though it’s still more of a haphazard collection of ideas than anything else, and with Pearl here I have no choice but to pull her in. Easton’s fork slows. He listens. Whatever else I think of him, I’m grateful for that.
When I’m done, he narrows his eyes. “I will help you, but I’m not doing it for you.”
“Obviously,” Pearl scoffs. It takes great effort not to elbow her.
“I know that,” I tell Easton. “I wouldn’t expect anything else. For what it’s worth, I’m glad she has you.”
The ground has felt unstable since that awful morning.
Since Rose told me what happened to her business and I understood my part in it.
I tried to outrun it. At the wedding, I smiled and held her and told myself that I could just love her and that would be enough, but it was never going to be enough with this sitting between us.
She might never take me back. But I won’t let her walk away thinking the world is just cruel. She said we stole her hope. What a terrible thing to do to someone.
I drop cash on the table, though we never ordered. We have a plan now, and there’s a lot to do, and for the first time in two weeks I actually have something I can do.
I move to leave, but Pearl stays seated.
Easton has finished his breakfast. He watches her, fork set down, waiting.
“I heard you that day, you know.”
He frowns, not knowing what she’s talking about.
“After you told me you were gay. And I called you a—” Pearl stops.
Easton grins, but it’s got a violent edge to it. “I know what you called me.”
“I felt bad. Immediately. I did love you, you know. And I’ve never been able to…
well, that was when I learned how to control myself.
To organize my feelings, compartmentalize.
Because I said something unforgivable off the top of my head, and I went to find you to take it back, but you were already with Inês and Rose.
I sat outside the cottage and listened to you three.
I cried. I hadn’t cried since I was ten.
Not for real, anyway. My mom was supposed to take me for my birthday.
I waited. She called from St. Tropez a week later. ”
He shifts uncomfortably. We both do. “I’m supposed to feel bad for you?” he grunts.
She shakes her head. “My point is, I’d been learning to lock my emotions down.
But hearing you cry, hearing your story, made me cry.
Not because you broke up with me, or didn’t love me.
But because you were hurting. And I loved you enough to hurt for you, too.
That’s why I spread those rumors about Rose. ”
Easton laughs. “Are you fucking kidding me? That’s your excuse.”
“I told everyone who would listen that we were getting married, going to college together. Then suddenly you break up with me? I heard you in that cottage, East. You were afraid people would find out, and you’d lose your chance to go pro.
I was trying to protect you. If we didn’t mysteriously break-up, if you weren’t going to come out publicly, and instead, you were sleeping with Rose, it protected your reputation. ”
Jesus. Pearl has a twisted moral compass.
Easton shakes his head. “That’s really messed up, Pearl.”
She shrugs. “I know. But Rose could handle it. It boosted your chances of flying under the radar.”
“And the fact that everyone felt sorry for you had nothing to do with it?”
She smirks. “That didn’t hurt.”
“Something is wrong with you, girl.”
He has no idea.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Pearl says. “For what I said when you came out. I know it’s a decade and a half too late, but. I’m sorry.”
“You know, you said Rose could handle it. But she shouldn’t have had to. Throwing her under the bus, yet again, doesn’t absolve you just because in your fucked-up mind you thought you were doing the right thing.”
Pearl blinks, shifts in her seat, then looks at me. “We ready?”
I nod, then look at Easton. “Can you tell Rose—”
“I ain’t telling her shit. I’m not doing this so you can get her back. I’m doing it so she can breathe again.”
The stone on my chest presses heavier.