Chapter 19 #2
We stopped at a street corner and I punched the button, waiting for the Walk light. “Don’t say that again.”
“Is it such a surprise, really? Why the fuck else would I be doing this, huh? Of course I love you.”
“Don’t.” I turned on him, face furious.
His lips formed a tight line. “All right. I won’t say that again. For now. But we should talk some more.”
I growled, gnashed my teeth.
“Ev.”
Crap. Negotiation wasn’t my strong suit.
Not with him. I wanted him gone. Or at least I was pretty certain I wanted him gone.
Gone so I could resume my mourning for him and us and everything we might have been.
Gone so I didn’t have to think about the fact that he now thought he loved me.
What utter emotional bullshit. My tear ducts went crazy right on cue.
I took huge deep breaths trying to get myself back under control.
“Later, not today,” he said, in an affable, reasonable voice. I didn’t trust it or him at all.
“Fine.”
I strode another block with him hanging at my side until again a red light stopped us cold, leaving room for conversation.
He had better not speak. At least not until I got my shit together and figured all this out.
I straightened my pencil skirt, tucked back my hair, fidgeted.
The light took forever. Since when did Portland turn against me? This wasn’t fair.
“We’re not finished,” he said. It sounded like both a threat and a promise.
* * *
The first text arrived at midnight while I was lying on my bed, reading.
Or trying to read. Because trying to sleep had been a bust. School started back soon, but I was finding it hard to raise my usual enthusiasm for my studies.
I had the worst feeling that the seed of doubt David had planted regarding my career choices had taken root inside my brain.
I liked architecture, but I didn’t love it.
Did that matter? Sadly, I had no answers.
Lots of excuses—some bullshit and some valid—but no answers.
David would probably say I could do whatever the fuck I wanted to. I knew all too well what my father would say. It wouldn’t be pretty.
I’d been avoiding seeing my parents since I got back.
Easy enough to do considering I’d hung up on the lecture my father had attempted to give me the second day after my return.
Relations had been frosty since then. The real surprise was that I wasn’t surprised.
They had never encouraged anything that didn’t directly support the plan.
There was a reason I’d never returned their calls when I was in Monterey.
Because I couldn’t tell them the things they wanted to hear anymore, it had seemed safer to stay mute.
Nathan had been running interference with the folks, which I appreciated, but my time was up.
We’d all been summoned to dinner tomorrow night.
I figured the text was my mother ensuring I wasn’t going to try and weasel out of it.
Sometimes she sat up late watching old black-and-white movies when her sleeping pills didn’t kick in.
I was wrong.
David: She surprised me when she kissed me. That’s why I didn’t stop her right away. But I didn’t want it.
I stared at my cell, frowning.
David: You there?
Me: Yeah.
David: I need to know if you believe me about Martha.
Did I? I took a breath, searched deep. There was frustration, plenty of confusion, but my anger had apparently burned itself out at long last. Because I didn’t doubt he’d told me the truth.
Me: I believe you.
David: Thank you. I keep thinking of more. Will you listen?
Me: Yes.
David: My folks got married because of Jimmy. Mom left when I was 12. She drank. Jimmy’s been paying her to keep quiet. She’s been hustling him for years.
Me: Holy hell!
David: Yeah. I got lawyers onto it now.
Me: Glad to hear it.
David: We retired Dad to Florida. I told him about you. He wants to meet.
Me: Really? I don’t know what to say …
David: Can I come up?
Me: You’re here??
I didn’t wait for a reply. Forget my pajama shorts and ragged old T-shirt, washed so many times its original color was a faded memory.
He’d just have to take me as he found me.
I unlocked the front door of our apartment and padded down the stairs on bare feet, my cell still in my hand.
Sure enough, a tall shadow loomed through the frosted glass of the building’s front door.
I pushed it open to find him sitting on the step.
Outside, the night was still, peaceful. A fancy silver SUV was pulled up at the curb.
“Hey,” he said, a finger busy on the screen of his cell. Mine beeped again.
David: Wanted to say good night.
“Okay,” I said, looking up from the screen. “Come in.”
The side of his mouth lifted and he looked up at me. I met his gaze, refusing to feel self-conscious. He didn’t seem put off by my slacker bedtime style. If anything, his smile increased, his eyes warming. “You about to go to bed?”
“I was just reading. Couldn’t sleep.”
“Is your brother here?” He stood and followed me back up the stairs, his sneakers loud on the old wooden floors. I half expected Mrs. Lucia from downstairs to come out and yell. It was a hobby of hers.
“No,” I said, closing the door behind us. “He and Lauren went out.”
He looked around the apartment with interest. As usual he took up all the space.
I don’t know how he did that. It was like a magician’s trick.
He was somehow so much bigger than he actually seemed.
And the man didn’t seem small to begin with.
In no rush at all, his gaze wandered around the room, taking in bright turquoise walls (Lauren’s doing) and the shelves of neatly stacked books (my doing).
“Is this yours?” he asked, poking his head into my bedroom.
“Ah, yes. It’s a bit of a mess right now, though.
” I squeezed past him and started speed-cleaning, picking up the books and other assorted debris scattered across the floor.
I should have asked him to give me five minutes before coming up.
My mother would be horrified. Since returning from LA I’d let my world descend into chaos.
It suited my frazzled state of mind. Didn’t mean David needed to see it.
I needed to make a plan to clean up my act and actually stick to it this time.
“I used to be organized,” I said, flailing, my fallback position for everything lately.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“This won’t take a minute.”
“Ev,” he said, catching hold of my wrist in much the same manner that his gaze caught me. “I don’t care. I just need to talk to you.”
A sudden horrible thought entered my mind. “Are you leaving?” I asked, today’s dirty work shirt clutched in my suddenly shaking hand.
His grip tightened around my wrist. “You want me to leave?”
“No. I mean, are you leaving Portland? Is that why you’re here, to say good-bye?”
“No.”
“Oh.” The pincer grip my ribs had gotten on my heart and lungs eased back a little. “Okay.”
“Where did that come from?” When I didn’t answer, he tugged me gently toward him. “Hey.”
I took a reluctant step in his direction, dropping the dirty laundry.
He pressed for more, sitting on my bed and pulling me down alongside him.
I sort of stumbled my butt onto the double mattress as opposed to doing it with any grace.
Story of my life. Object achieved, he gave up his grip on me. My hands clenched the edge of the bed.
“So, you got a weird look on your face and then you asked me if I was leaving,” he said, blue eyes concerned. “Care to explain?”
“You haven’t turned up at midnight before. I guess I wondered if there was more to it than just dropping by.”
“I drove by your apartment and I saw your light was on. Figured I’d send you a text, see what mood you were in after our talk today.” He rubbed at his bearded chin with the palm of his hand. “Plus, like I said, I keep thinking of stuff I need to tell you.”
“You drive by my apartment often?”
He gave me a wry smile. “Only a couple of times. It’s my way of saying good night to you.”
“How did you know which window was mine?”
“Ah, well, that time I talked to Lauren when I was first came to town? She had the light on in the other room. Figured this one must be yours.” He didn’t look at me, choosing instead to check out the photos of me and my friends on the walls. “You mad that I’ve been around?”
“No,” I answered honestly. “I think I might be running out of mad.”
“You are?”
“Yeah.”
He let out a slow breath and stared back at me, saying nothing. Dark bruises lingered beneath his eyes, though his swollen nose had gone back to normal size.
“I really am sorry Nate hit you.”
“If I was your brother, I’d have done the exact same fucking thing.” He braced his elbows on his knees but kept his face turned toward me.
“Would you?”
“Without question.”
Males and their penchant for beating on things, it knew no end.
The silence dragged out. It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly. At least we weren’t fighting or rehashing our breakup one more time. Being broken and angry got old.
“Can we just hang out?” I asked.
“Absolutely. Lemme see this.” He picked up my iPhone and started flicking through the music files. “Where are the earbuds?”
I hopped up and retrieved them from among the crap on my desk.
David plugged them in, then handed me an earbud.
I sat at his side, curious what he’d choose out of my music.
When the rocking, jumpy beat of “Jackson” by Johnny Cash and June Carter started, I looked at him in amusement.
He smirked and mouthed the lyrics. We had indeed gotten married in a fever.
“You making fun of me?” I asked.
Light danced in his eyes. “I’m making fun of us.”
“Fair enough.”
“What else have you got here?”
Cash and Carter finished and he continued his search for songs. I watched his face, waiting for a reaction to my musical tastes. All I got was a smothered yawn.
“They’re not that bad,” I protested.
“Sorry. Big day.”