Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
Cordelia
I find an excuse to leave the arcade early.
It’s too much: Renthrow’s heavy stares and the way they make my heart lurch; Gordie’s innocent little looks in my direction; the way I so badly want to take care of her but feel so inadequate; Miss Potts fitting so perfectly into their little family.
My head starts to hurt, so I tell Gordie I’m leaving. I watch her closely, checking to make sure that my sudden exit won’t cause her harm. But thankfully, she’s having too much fun with Miss Potts to have an episode.
I’m not salty.
It’s totally fine that she’s happy with Miss Potts.
Being mad at that would be immature.
As immature as my desire to grab Miss Potts by her perfect hair and tell her to back off. That Renthrow and Gordie are mine.
Nothing I’m doing makes sense, and even I’m getting annoyed with myself.
One minute, I want to avoid Viking Renthrow with my every breath. The next, I want to hover around him and Gordie like a shipwrecked survivor to a campfire.
The back-and-forth is killing me, but one thing is clear. Renthrow and I can’t go any further. He thinks I’m a better person than I am, and I can’t let him find out the truth. Now that Gordie means so much to me, now that I want to protect her with everything I have, I really need to be careful.
You’re a curse to everyone around you, Delia.
Those words echo in the darkest corners of my heart.
They’re true.
Gwen proved it.
It’s better for Gordie, for Renthrow, for everyone, if I just keep to myself.
On Monday morning, I go to work armed with coffee and four hours of sleep under my belt.
April and Rebel are already at the garage when I get there.
Rebel sees me and grins from ear to ear. “Heellloo, Delia.”
“Hey,” I answer suspiciously. “What’s going on?”
“Renthrow stopped by before he went to the stadium and left this,” April says, nodding to a pink lunch bag.
Stunned, I reach for the bag and notice both my bosses looking over my shoulder.
“Can I get a little room?” I mumble.
“April, don’t be nosey,” Rebel says, nudging her best friend backward while craning her own neck farther ahead.
I open the lunch box. The zipper makes a loud “zzzzup” sound as I unravel it and push back the flap.
There’s a colorful container in the bag, and I open it to find crisply cut fruits, egg rolls fitted with colorful cherry tomatoes, bacon so perfectly crisp, it would make a chef weep, and French toast.
There’s also a note stuck to a bottle of what looks like a fresh fruit smoothie.
I packed breakfast, then I remembered I’m working on my dad bod. So I’m giving it to you instead.
“Aww!” April says.
“That’s soooo sweet!” Rebel coos. “A dad bod?”
I whirl around to find my bosses both hovering over my shoulder, completely obliterating the space I demanded from them earlier.
“Can I take a picture?” Rebel asks, whipping out her phone as she vibrates with excitement. “I want Gunner to recreate this for me.”
“You guys can have it,” I mumble, shoving the lunch box at them and walking to my car.
April and Rebel exchange looks and then follow me.
“What’s going on?” April asks.
Rebel tilts her head. “Did you and Renthrow have a fight?”
“Of course not. What would we have to fight about?”
“I don’t know. Couples fight about all kinds of things,” April says wisely. “Last night, I got mad at Chance for not asking directions to the restaurant for our date. He insisted that he could find it without the navigation, and guess what? We got lost for hours.”
“I fought with Gunner last week about the color of his lights. He’s moving out of his parents’ garage to a new apartment, and he asked for my opinion. So I told him I prefer white lights. And then he bought all yellow!”
“No!” I gasp.
“It’s like…why ask for my opinion when you’re going to do what you want anyway?” Rebel tosses her hair over her shoulder, huffing in exasperation.
April laughs. “Arguments are part of a relationship. But as long as you have good communication and you’re committed to one another, you’ll work it out.”
“Renthrow and I aren’t a couple,” I say again. Then I check my phone and notice a new message from him.
Renthrow: Delivery service. Day one, complete.
I find myself smiling, and then I swat my cheek to wipe the smile off.
“Okay, but that lunch box says you have something.” Rebel gestures to the bag. “A man doesn’t cook for a woman he doesn’t care about. And especially not Renthrow.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could confide in my bosses but not knowing where to start. “It’s…complicated.”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” April says, patting my shoulder. “But if you really don’t want this, I’m taking your offer. No use wasting a perfectly good meal.”
My bosses’ footsteps fade, and I hear them gushing about how great the food is.
“It’s so pretty!”
“Look! I think there’s potato fritters too!”
“Potato fritters? No! I call dibs!”
Exploding away from the car, I stomp up to them, grab the box away, and screech, “Renthrow and I almost kissed in his bedroom yesterday.”
Rebel had already snagged an egg roll on the end of a fork, but the roll slaps to the ground as she stares at me, slack-jawed.
“I-in his bedroom?” April blinks rapidly.
“I didn’t mean to kiss him. I mean, I did. Sort of. To be fair, he was shirtless, and he has abs? Why does a single dad have such scrumptious abs? Does playing hockey mean you have to have a six-pack? It’s ridiculous!”
Rebel blinks. “He was…shirtless?”
“That’s not the point.” I absently grab one of the egg rolls and stuff it into my mouth. Then I freeze. “Whoa. That’s good.”
April snags the third one, and I feel a twinge of sadness because now there’s only one egg roll left, and in the spirit of fairness, Rebel has to get it. Since she dropped hers earlier.
“You mind rolling that back and starting from the beginning?” Rebel asks.
I offer the last egg roll to her. She shakes her head. “You can have it.”
A more selfless woman would insist on giving it away, but I eagerly munch on the egg roll before she changes her mind. “There’s not much else to the story. I somehow ended up in his bedroom, and we almost kissed, but Gordie knocked on the door, and I kind of flung myself into his closet to hide.”
“Why?” Rebel asks.
“Because Gordie can’t see me with her dad.”
“Why?” April tilts her head.
“Because.” My voice bristles with frustration. I don’t get what they’re not getting. “He and I can’t be together.”
“Why?” Both April and Rebel ask together.
I massage my forehead. “Because dating Renthrow isn’t a casual thing. He has Gordie to protect.”
“You can protect Gordie together. I don’t see the problem,” April says, dipping one of the fritters in the sauce.
Rebel reaches over me to pinch at a piece of bacon. “Is the reason you’re hesitating because of Renthrow or because of Gordie?”
“I love Gordie.”
“Then Renthrow’s the problem,” April deduces. “You just don’t like him in that way.”
“That’s not…exactly the case.”
Rebel scrunches her nose. “Is there another guy? Brennon? Do you like him more?”
“Of course not.”
April pulls her lips into her mouth and watches me like the waveform lines on her diagnostic scanner. “There’s something else, isn’t there? Something you haven’t mentioned yet.”
Rebel touches my arm. “Does it have anything to do with your twin?”
I suck in a sharp breath.
April speaks cautiously. “We weren’t snooping or anything. The nursing-home group chat shared an article of you—well, someone who looked exactly like you in a pageant. We were really stunned and looked into it…but… Cordelia, are you okay?”
The knifing sensation is back. A memory of the awful words I said to Gwen the last time we spoke fills my head.
“My life would be so much better if I were just me and not a twin.”
I step away from the two ladies who feel more like friends than bosses. “You two can finish that. I’m not hungry anymore.”
Rebel and April watch me as I return to my section of the outdoor garage. I hear them whispering among themselves, and it seems like April wants to come over and talk. I’m secretly relieved when Rebel shakes her head and they allow me to work without asking any more questions.
What would I say?
“I basically told my sister I wish she were dead, and then she died, and it was too late to apologize for it. So should we head to the Tuna? I’m paying.”
I don’t deserve good things like friends and family and love. Those things were meant for Gwen. She was made to be loved and give love in return. To be warm and receive warmth.
I was nothing but hatred and spite. Resentment and bitterness.
I iced her out, and if that wasn’t enough, I crushed her to pieces.
At least, the last thing I said to her was half-right.
Life would have been much better if we weren’t born as twins. Except, I’m the twin who shouldn’t have made it out.