Chapter 10
Chapter
After showering off the clinging scent of fried food that I always leave a shift at the diner with, I hop into my aged Saturn and head into the city for book club.
The radio in my car is broken, the knob to change stations no longer working, but luckily it last stopped on a Latin pop station.
I listen to the upbeat club music and manually crank my window down to let in the fresh spring breeze, enjoying my drive from small town to suburbs to city.
Shawn technically doesn’t live too far from me.
I could make the drive in thirty minutes if traffic behaves.
But the change in scenery is stark. From fields and strip malls to high-rises and paid street parking.
Thankfully, my brother gave me a swipe card for the parking garage under his building.
On Christmas a few years ago, he presented me with an E-ZPass so I wouldn’t have to worry about the increasingly expensive tolls into Arlington, either.
I accepted because the pass was a gift, and there’s no way I could afford to visit him otherwise.
The infrequent times Shawn comes by our house, the atmosphere is…stilted.
Mom is never mean or dismissive to Shawn, of course. But neither does his normal charm work on her. She tends to be quieter in his presence. More watchful, her eyes flicking between the two of us as we inevitably start bantering with each other.
Maybe Shawn’s charisma reminds her too much of how Karl was when he first wooed her.
Whatever the reason, Mom is reserved, Marge bustles about, and Shawn babbles. Plus, as if picking up on the tension, Grumps tends to keep up a steady, low-level growl from his recliner in the living room.
Visiting Shawn at his place is a much more relaxed affair.
Even if his place is dauntingly upper class. But I’m mostly used to the penthouse by now. Or at least I tell myself that as I shift from foot to foot on the ride up to the top floor.
“I opted for Thai,” Shawn announces when he tugs the door open at my knock.
“Works for me.” As does any food from a five-star restaurant. “I brought a pie. Lemon curd with a meringue topping. Darla made it.”
My brother’s face lights up, and I suppress a snicker.
At first, I thought his attempts to flirt with my friend were his normal need to have everyone like him. But more and more, I get the sense that Shawn actually likes the porcupine of a woman.
I wish him all the luck.
“Mmm. How did she know lemon is my favorite?” He leads me into the open living area and places the dessert among a collection of take-out containers.
“She didn’t. I didn’t tell her I was bringing it.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t want her to spit in it.”
My brother sighs with a goofy grin, as if he enjoys reminders of the Cornfield’s surly behavior.
“Still, I’ll thank her next time I’m in the diner. If George is with me, you’ll have to thank him, too.”
I frown. “What for? I already expressed enough gratitude about landing the plane.”
“I will never stop thanking him for that.” Shawn waves toward the door of the guest bedroom.
“But you can also give thanks that he made sure you have a working toilet in the guest room. The thing went haywire this morning. Wouldn’t flush.
I may have panicked. But then George swooped in, did some toilet magic, and now the mysterious machine is working again.
I expect you to give him a standing ovation next time you see each other. ”
I roll my eyes. “First off, toilets are not mysterious. Nor do they require magic.”
“False. They make all sorts of stuff my body expels disappear. Where does it go? How does it leave? Magic is the only explanation.”
“Second,” I continue without addressing Shawn’s complete lack of blue-collar know-how. “You live in the fanciest building ever. I’m sure the front desk has a plumber on call who would’ve fixed it fine.”
Hell, I could have repaired whatever was up. My plumbing knowledge has grown exponentially since moving into a house with ancient pipes. Plus, I fixed what sounds like almost the same exact issue a few days ago.
“George is a wizard with toilet spells,” Shawn declares. “He deserves respect.”
“Is this why he’s your best friend? Because without him you’d be living in your own excrement?”
Shawn’s cell phone vibrates on the counter between us.
“Maybe that’s him now.” I wave toward the device and try to ignore the way my pulse pounds a touch faster at the thought of hearing the pilot’s deep voice. “Your life partner checking up on you.”
My brother snorts. “It’s not. You know how I know it’s not?
Because it’s a call. George hates talking on the phone.
I swear he could be running from a murderer and still try to text 911 instead of talk to an operator.
” Shawn reaches out to flip the cell screen side up, showing an unknown number. “I’ll shut it off after this, I swear.”
I shrug and wave for him to take it. Whatever Shawn does for BnB must not be too demanding because I’ve rarely heard him take a work call. Pretty much never, now that I think about it. I’m kind of interested to hear what they need him for.
“Hello, Shawn speaking.” I roll my eyes at his professional phone voice, and he grins, catching the move.
Then the happy expression drops, his brow wrinkling in a deep frown that looks misplaced on his face.
“Tiffany.”
At the sound of his ex’s name, I sit up straight, my fists clenching as if I need to defend him from the woman who broke his heart.
Why is she contacting him?
“I need you to stop doing this. I blocked your number for a reason.” He turns his back to me, pacing while he gives an agitated tug on his hair. “I know you’re sorry. But that doesn’t change anything.”
Discomfort settles like a toxic sludge in my gut.
“No. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you.
” Exhaustion drags at his voice. How many times has he repeated those words since their split?
“We’re not anything anymore. Just leave me alone.
” He pulls the phone away from his ear and hangs up, then fiddles with the screen as he mutters about blocking numbers.
The air in his kitchen has grown heavy, and Shawn gets overly focused on opening the take-out containers.
“She still calls you?” I ask, because even though he’s gone quiet, my brother is a talker. And I think he might want to talk about this.
If he doesn’t, that could be worse. Like what she did to him broke a piece of his internal makeup.
“She keeps getting new numbers. Or using her friends’ phones.” He shrugs. “I’d change mine, but a lot of clients only have this number.”
“Does she want to get back together?” I keep my voice careful, not wanting to hurt him.
“She says she just wants to talk. To earn my forgiveness.” He fiddles with a Styrofoam lid. “But yeah, I think that’s what she wants.”
“And you don’t?”
Shawn shakes his head. “I’ll probably forgive her. Someday. But I won’t ever want to be around her again. Not after the way she used me. The way she lied to me.”
I watch him as he turns to grab plates, trying not to apply his words to myself. It’s not that I like Tiffany and want them to get back together. Far from it.
The day they broke up Shawn got sloppy drunk on strawberry daiquiris and explained why he ended the engagement.
Apparently, Tiffany had been away on a girls’ trip in some tropical location.
She’d sent Shawn a video with the normal “Hey, babe! Miss you! Look at this gorgeous view, wish you were here… ” blah blah blah, all that stuff.
But the video didn’t end when she must have thought it did.
It turns out, she set down her phone while the recording went on, catching her next words.
Shawn had played the video for me, and I listened with growing fury.
“There. Fiancé duty fulfilled. He’ll probably try calling me the second I send him that.”
“Your man is obsessed with you,” one of her friends had said.
“God, I know,” Tiffany chuckled. “It was so easy getting this ring. Can you believe I considered going after Bunsen? I figured since his ex left him, he’d be easy.
But Newton was such a better choice. He’s got a big dick and an even bigger bank account.
Do you know he paid for this trip? I just pouted about how much it cost, and he basically threw his card at me.
I cannot wait until my name goes on that checking account—”
The bitch must have swiped on her phone or something then, but that was plenty. And she was dense enough to send the thing to Shawn without realizing the message was way more honest than she meant it to be.
With that one slipup, Shawn had proof that the woman he was planning on marrying only wanted him for his money from the start, and that Tiffany would have been just as fine with going after his best friend if she thought she could catch him.
So yeah. That gold-digging tart can go to hell. But she’s not the only leech on Shawn’s lengthy roster.
She’ll sit on the bench next to the nanny who used the credit card meant for Shawn’s care to buy expensive toys only to resell them on eBay and pocket the cash.
Beside the boy who convinced Shawn they were best friends so he would get invited on a trip to Europe, only to hook up with the girl Shawn was dating while they were all in Germany.
And they’ll all sit beside me.
Some people—like Darla—might say what I did and what Tiffany did are different. And sure, I didn’t cultivate my entire relationship with Shawn in order to get access to his money.
But I still remember the day nine-year-old me came upon an unusually quiet twelve-year-old Shawn. He was morosely pushing himself on the swing set at the playground where we regularly met up after learning of each other’s existence.
“Does Mom pay you to hang out with me?” he’d blurted, his eyes fixed on his bright white Nike sneakers.
I’d frowned down at my used-to-be-blue-but-had-kind-of-turned-gray non-branded tennis shoes. “Mom gives me a dollar every week if I clean my room and vacuum the apartment.”
That earned me a long pause.
“Does my mom pay you?” Shawn eventually clarified.
“Oh.” I shrugged. “No. I don’t know your mom.”
Shawn had turned owlish eyes on me, which looked extra red around the edges. “Zander and Marty—they’re in my class—I thought they were my friends. But Zander told me he and Marty only play video games with me because Mom bribed them with Xboxes.”
Tears had gathered on his lower lashes.
“I’m sorry,” I had whispered. Even though I was young, I knew that my brother was sad. “I promise to always be your friend, no matter what. And even if your mom gives me fifty Xboxes, I’ll throw them all in the trash.”
His grin was a beautiful thing.
So no, I suppose I’m not the same as Tiffany.
But in some ways, I think what I’ve done is worse.
Because I know how Shawn has been hurt before.
I know that this is one of his insecurities.
I’m his sister. One of the few people in his life he’s supposed to be able to rely on to be honest with him and not take advantage of him.
He’ll have every right in the world to be furious with me. To want to cut me out of his life so he’s not surrounded by duplicitous people.
“I’ll probably forgive her. Someday. But I won’t ever want to be around her again. Not after the way she used me. The way she lied to me.”
Maybe that’s the best I can hope for. That over the years, he might find a way to forgive me.
Even if he won’t ever trust me again.
“Come on.” Shawn nudges my plate closer to me, the waft of chiles from my khao soi dish pulling me out of my spiral into self-loathing. “Fuel up. You’re not going to make it through book club on an empty stomach.”
Good point. I shovel the spicy food into my mouth, letting the heat burn away thoughts of Tiffany and betrayal.
If I only have this time with Shawn, then I want to savor it.