50. Ambrose—present day #2
“I texted you to meet me, but you didn’t come.”
“I know. I was fucked by then. I couldn’t see straight.” His gaze turns nervous as it lands on me, and I refuse to pull my eyes away until he does. His attitude changes quickly, lifting with a false smile as he speaks to Dollie again. “Hey… you’re up there. How brave of you.”
“Where were you, Shane?”
“With my parents. That’s why I was so drunk. You know they aren’t easy to be around. You didn’t miss much, I don’t think.”
“If you didn’t want me there, you shouldn’t have asked me to go. Why didn’t you send someone else for me? What was the reason?”
“It wasn’t like that. I get that you don’t trust me, but you up there with him doesn’t look good, either.”
He has the cheek of the fucking devil.
A whole minute ago, he was praising her bravery. Now, he’s twisting the blame because she has questions he doesn’t want to answer.
Condescending cunt.
Dollie doesn’t notice that, her oblivious stare on his pink bubbled bribe.
“Look, can you come down? We can talk privately .”
The way he says that word pisses me off.
“Come on, I brought you one of these.” He raises the cup and struggles with it as if all his heavy suspicions float in the pink liquid.
“Yeah, we can talk.”
Dollie is quick down the stairs, fighting off Bubbles as she accepts the drink.
“Here.” He shoves the drink out to her but pulls it away when she reaches for it. “Kiss first.”
To my relief, she gives him her cheek, not her mouth. His dry lips press against her, his eyes on me, watching for a reaction.
I want to refuse to give him that satisfaction, but my face disagrees.
“What do you say?” he asks, pulling away and finally offering her the drink.
“Thank you.” Dollie smiles, but I don’t miss how her narrow shoulders slump in the distance.
I stalk behind her as she disappears into the reading room with Shane.
I hang back, waiting on the chaise lounge, amongst all her stuff, while they walk through the dining room to the kitchen.
I fold her blanket while Shane guilt-trips and accuses her from the other room.
I fold it again, and then again, making it perfect for her.
“Shane, it isn’t what you think.” She takes a drink, then sets it down.
It’s hard to hear the conversation as she fills Bubbles’ bowl with kibble. That calls the dog to the kitchen and away from me.
“You were upstairs, Dollie.” There he goes again with my nickname. “What am I meant to think?”
“You’re meant to trust me because I’ve never done anything for you to think otherwise.”
“No, but I did, and maybe you wanted to get even. You know, doing it with him would not only be sick because he’s your brother, but it would really fucking hurt me.”
“Nothing happened, I swear. Not like what you think.”
“So, what was it? I couldn’t get you up there when we first got here, and we desperately needed to decorate, but he can? How?”
Dollie’s voice gets quieter as she steps outside with Bubbles. Shane follows, and that leads me to the kitchen.
I’m still able to pick up their conversation as I stand at the window, keeping an eye on him.
“I heard screaming. It frightened me. Ambrose used to get wild night terrors, and I didn’t know if he’d end up hurt.”
“So, you braved the blood spills to keep him safe?” His voice lowers. “God, Dollie, don’t you see it would be a blessing if he did?”
He clearly thinks I can’t hear him. The confidence would disappear if he knew I was standing here, watching his lips move.
“I don’t think so. I wouldn’t want anyone ever to be hurt.”
She’s too good for him.
“Not even him?”
“No. I know what it’s like.”
“Is that a dig at me?”
Turning away from him, the gentle breeze catches her hair, blowing in the wind as she plays with our girl.
“It wasn’t a dig.”
“Good. Because I’m in therapy to be better for you, I don’t want to go.”
“And I didn’t want to go out last night, but you begged, sent me to the wrong place, and something awful happen?—”
“God, it’s always about you. Don’t you think awful things were happening to me, too?” His shoulders slump, and the bad posture does him no favors.
“I don’t know what happened to you. I wasn’t there.”
“I spent half of the night with my head down the toilet, vomiting because I drank too much.” His fingers close around her tense shoulders, and his lips place another kiss on her cheeks that makes me recoil.
“I am sorry you never got to come to the party, but we both had a kinda shit night, by the sounds of things.”
“It isn’t about the party, Shane. Two women took an instant disliking to me at the other bar.” She doesn’t give him the details she gave me, probably too nervous over how he’ll react.
“And I’m sorry about that. What happened when you came home?”
Turning back to him, she gives me her back. “Are you really more concerned that something happened here over what happened at the bar?”
“You can’t blame me. Are my feelings not valid?”
“All feelings are valid, sure, but nothing happened here, Shane. Stop allowing your guilt to blame me.”
“The therapist says I project. That I pass the blame because it’s hard to face up to my own actions.”
“Yeah… well, maybe that’s true.”
“She can feel that I love you, though, and she thinks that you standing by me is helpful.”
His hands move around her, pulling her in, and my empty stomach rolls when, after a small hesitation, hers shift to him, and she smiles an unauthentic smile.
“I really need you. We don’t know any different.
We’ve always had each other. I can be better.
I have been better lately because I really want us to work.
I know it’s not easy, but we both have to put in the work.
Mostly me. And I will. Would I be here on my knees, begging for another chance otherwise? ”
“You’re not on your knees, Shane.”
“I can be.”
Thoughts of him in the gutter lift my lip. He’s just another germ on the ground.
A quick glance at the clock tells me he’s almost late for work and should be leaving soon.
He better be out before I am, or I’ll never get to The Funhouse to handle today’s stock order and the attitude from Valaria that will come before it.
He’s still in the yard but has changed positions.
My mouth hangs open, but no air comes out as I lean forward for a better look.
One knee of his pants leg is dirty because he’s down on it. On one fucking knee.
“If I prove myself, we’ll keep our reservation? We will be all you ever wanted—a normal family. We already got the dog and wedding planned. Who knows what could be next?”
Dollie’s expression matches mine. She can’t want that empty life. If she did, there’d be a smile.
There’s no smile, so there’s no reason to say yes.
“What do you say?”
Say no.
Say fucking no.
She says nothing, giving him time to talk again.
“Last time, you asked me. I’ve never so much as asked for another chance. I just assume you’ll give them. But I’m asking now, and I’m asking you to think back to the moment when you asked me to be your husband and consider being my wife.”
I have no idea what she says next. The words don’t reach my ears because all I hear is that she asked him to be her husband… she asked him.