29. Darcy
Chapter 29
Darcy
I LOSE COUNT of the number of people who ask where Anthony’s gone. All I can do is shrug and make up a story about him not feeling well. Which I know is a lie, because I saw everything.
He didn’t see me as he strode past the bar and yanked open the door that leads upstairs to his loft. He didn’t seem to see much of anything. When I turned to follow him, Charlotte was there, putting her hand on my arm and shaking her head, telling me to give him some time to himself.
Now that the party is over and I’m helping clean up, and his parents keep shooting questioning glances over at me as though they’re trying to decide if I’m someone important to this situation or not, I deeply regret listening to her. But I don’t want Anthony to walk down tomorrow morning and have to clean up a party he clearly wasn’t in the mood to have, and I’m the only one who knows where anything is. Harrison dipped out hours ago, and I wasn’t about to try making the part-time kids from the high school stay for the clean-up.
Which means I’m desperately wishing I’d followed Anthony the way I wanted to. Every time I pass Levi, his face seems to get more mottled with a massive bruise, and the rueful smile he shoots me as we clear the tables in the party room doesn’t really communicate that he’s sorry. When the last balloon is popped and the trash is in the dumpster outside, I make myself scarce with a last nod at Ox, who offers his trademark broad smile in return.
Is Ox not worried about the situation? Or maybe he is, but he knows that both his brothers need a cooling-off period. It makes me realize just how little I know about their family. I’d always figured the brothers were all close, but after seeing the rage and hurt on Anthony’s face as he walked away, I know I was very, very wrong.
“Anthony?” I sweep my gaze around the loft, expecting to find him shooting pool or even lifting weights in the tiny area against a far wall. I double-check my phone but no missed calls or texts from him, either. “Anthony? You here?”
Silence.
Then it hits me. I know exactly where he is.
I see him the second I reach the apex of the dunes, sitting on the sand and angled to watch the sun dip into the horizon. I watch him for a good five minutes, but he stays in position, his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped around them, brooding like the top-tier grump he likes everyone to think he is.
I know better these days. I know the shield he puts up is for everyone else. All the same, he’s got some explaining to do, because the asshole made a deliberate choice when he introduced me to his parents. He’s not hesitated to let the world know about our relationship, but the second his parents are right there , he goes mute. Then he gets in a fight with his brother?
He turns his head as I approach, then returns his gaze to the ocean.
And that’s it. I may love him, but I am done with being the quiet, understanding girlfriend. I gave it a solid three hours, and I’ve gotta say, it sucks. Not my vibe in the least.
So. We’re done with that approach.
Instead, I stomp forward, unscrewing the top of my very full, extra giant ice water, and pull the lid into my left hand. He doesn’t pay me any mind as I near, which is good, because it allows me to get right up on him before dumping the ice water all over his head.
He jumps up with a roar, his eyes flashing as rivulets of water drip down his face. “What the fuck was that for?”
As calmly as you please, I screw the cup’s lid back on. “ You are being an asshole, and you needed to cool off. I helped.”
His eyes narrow, and it emphasizes the mottled skin around his left eye that is, somewhat impressively, almost a dead match for the one his brother has. When he speaks, it’s laced with a dismissive cruelty I’ve not heard before. “Go away, Darcy. Leave me alone and go home.”
My spine straightens as he tries to turn away. But he’s got another thing coming if he thinks I’m letting him act like this. “You owe me an apology,” I say, reaching to touch his arm and bring his attention back to me. “ And you need to get your shit together and stop acting like a child!”
He scoffs. “That’s rich coming from you.”
“And what does that mean?”
He throws his arms wide, water droplets flinging. “That you’re the child here!”
Did he really just go there? “Oh, fuck you, Anthony.”
He shifts on his feet, crossing his arms and smirking. And for the first time, he doesn’t look sexy or hot at all. He looks cold. Heartless. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Hackles up, I shout back, “You’re wrong!”
“No,” he says, his voice so low I almost don’t hear it over the ocean. “I’m not. You’re twenty-four, Darcy. Twenty. Four. I, on the other hand, am a forty-one-year-old man who’s got no business with someone like you. You. Are. A. Child.”
Anger flares hot and bright and I blink furiously, praying the tears don’t come. I take a step back, refusing to let him see how his words hurt. “You are so fucking bitter,” I spit. “And for what? Your parents didn’t pay enough attention to you? Grow the fuck up. At least you had a mother, Anthony. Sure, you were the oldest to twins and had to figure stuff out a lot faster than you would have otherwise. You poor baby. You know what I had? A single father who didn’t know what to do with me for years, but he fucking tried, and there were times he absolutely messed up, but he loved me. Could things be better? Sure. Is he perfect? Definitely not. But we talk . When was the last fucking time you pulled your head out of your ass and actually talked to your parents? Did you ever think that this is a two-way street? Huh?”
He blinks, as though none of this has actually occurred to him. “There’s more to it than that,” he finally says quietly.
“I’m sure there is,” I sigh. “But you haven’t told me anything about this, Anthony. Nothing. You and I are a two-way street, as well.”
His jaw ticks, but he says nothing else.
I laugh. It’s all I can do, because I don’t have any more water to dump on him. Clueless fucking man. “And you think I’m the child?” I take another step back, then another, shaking my head the whole time. “I love you, I do. You have some serious work to do on yourself. Call me when you come to your senses and you’re ready to apologize.”
Men. Ugh .