16. Chapter 16
Chapter sixteen
Aspen
T he passage of time creeps along the walls. The sunlight fades slowly, casting shadows on the wall. I know I should get up and start packing, but I don’t. I’m numb, not bothering to switch on a light as the room grows darker around me. He’s not here. He’s on a plane to some exotic destination with his ex-wife.
Till the last second, I held out hope that he wouldn’t do this to me. To us. Despite all his assurances—that it meant nothing, that she’s his friend, that I’m the one he loves—the moment he walked her to the waiting car and packed their suitcases in the trunk, he sealed our fate. The little smirk and wave she threw me as they drove away was just the final nail in the coffin.
It’s completely dark outside by the time I wipe the tears from my cheeks and stand up. Feeling lost, I look around at the shadowy outlines of the living room furniture. There’s a memory in every piece—a memory that’s now tainted by doubt, betrayal, and heartache. How much of it was real?
Clenching my fists, I turn my back on the room as if that act alone will block out the images that have taken up residence in my mind. If I start now, I’ll be able to pack my clothes and the few things I have and be out of here long before morning. I’ll never see this place in full sunlight again.
The pain that shoots through me is so intense that it nearly brings me to my knees. I thought it was my home, filled with love and so much hope for the future. But it turns out that thoughts and hopes are just empty wishes in the wind, beaten into obscurity by a destructive storm intent on destroying everything you hold dear.
Somehow I find the strength to steel my spine and leave without switching on the light. Leaving it all behind in a cloak of darkness, just like I’m hoping to be able to one day leave my love behind.
The room is everything you’d expect a budget motel room to look like. A generic brown carpet, worn down from countless sets of feet and faded from many washes. An orange comforter with its explosion of yellow and pink daisies that doesn’t scream, “Come, lie down, rest for a while.” But it’s cheap and beggars can’t be choosers. At least there’s one of those little one-cup coffee makers with a few pods, which I’m sure will be my saving grace. I haven’t eaten today—I can’t stomach the thought of food. But coffee? Coffee I can do.
I don’t know what I’m going to do. This motel is cheap, but every bit of extra money I’ve had has gone into the rescue, and now I only have enough to stay for about a week.
What am I going to do when the week is up?
I need to get my own place. I considered asking Julia for an advance, but it won’t help. It won’t be enough for a deposit, the first month’s rent, and all the essentials I’d need.
Piper would offer me her couch in a heartbeat. So would Maya. As for Rose, she got a new roommate after I moved out, so I wouldn’t dream of asking her.
My friends would want to help me. In fact, I know they’ll insist on helping me. But my pride won’t allow it. Just like it wouldn’t allow me to stay at Ryan’s place a minute longer.
I’m to blame for the situation I find myself in. I allowed myself to become dependent on Ryan. So, I have to fix it.
Then there’s the fact that I’m a mess and I don’t want anyone to see me this way. My skin feels tight—that feeling it gets after you’ve just washed your face and before you’ve moisturized, and just by blinking I can tell that my eyes are puffy. If I had any doubt about my appearance, the check-in clerk and her refusal to meet my gaze would have set me straight.
Stubbornness, pride, call it what you want, but I have lost so much today, that I refuse to lose my pride.
Maybe I should just buy a blowup mattress and sleep at the rescue. But it’s so isolated and the thought of sleeping there is creepy.
Sighing, I drop my overnight bag, letting it lie where it falls, and put Dan the Man down on the nightstand. I should have left the damn thing, but for some reason, I couldn’t.
As I was doing a final sweep—because I never plan on going there again—I saw him. He looked so forlorn, reflecting what I was feeling, and the memory of Ryan handing him to me with a flourish nearly brought me to my knees.
I cried when I picked him up, scolding myself for getting emotional over a plastic cactus. It’s so stupid, but it’s the memory that hurts. How in love we were when we’d just started dating. How proud Ryan was when he won it at a fair, immediately dubbing him Dan the Man, because he was the man.
I sit on the bed, and I’m not sure if it’s seconds, minutes, or an hour that passes while I stare at the nondescript beige wall. Time seems to have lost all meaning to me. All my mind seems to focus on is them. It seems to hate me, showing images of them I don’t want to see in a relentless loop.
Sitting side-by-side on the plane while sipping drinks that come in those tiny bottles, sharing their excitement.
Snacking on tapas and drinking cocktails while she’s in that barely there red two-piece and he’s in his favorite blue and black swimming trunks.
Enjoying the all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet with their heads together while planning their activities for the day.
Her on the back of a jet ski with him, her front pressed to his back, arms wrapped around his waist.
Going for a stroll down the beach while taking in the sunset. Holding hands? Probably.
Every image is a knife to the heart. It should have been us doing that. He is my boyfriend, after all. The man I thought I was going to marry. “Was,” a tiny voice whispers in my mind.
It’s only after time has gone by that I realize it’s not my mind working against me. It’s working with me, protecting me. Every image I see chips away at the sorrow I’m feeling and infuses me with anger.
On autopilot, I get up and take a shower. I scrub and scrub, trying to wash all traces of the day away. The room is silent as I pad to the bed and slide under the covers. I pull my knees up and fold my hands under my cheek. My only prayer for the night is that I can find oblivion in sleep, but in the quiet darkness, it’s their laughs of happiness that echo in my ears while the soundless song of agony rolls down my cheeks.
By the time the sun crests the horizon, I’m up and dressed. I’m determined to leave last night’s weakness in that daisy-infused bed. My hands are shaking and I can’t tell if it’s from all the caffeine I’ve consumed or the uncertainty of a new life that I have to forge for myself. I’m fortifying my armor bit by bit. Breastplate, gauntlets, greaves—it’s all there in the blend of concealer under my eyes, a swipe of mascara, a dash of gloss on my lips.
A muffled ping from somewhere in the room drags my eyes from my reflection in the bathroom mirror and I walk to the room, looking for my bag. I find it lying discarded next to the door. By the time I’ve pulled my phone out, it’s pinged twice more.
Piper: Where are you? I’ve tried calling and you’re not answering
Piper: Rose told me Ryan left. I’m at your house and you’re not here
Not my house. His. And if Hadley has her way, theirs. How long would it take her to move her things from the apartment into the house?
Piper: Call me. I’m worried
I bite my lip, hesitating on how to respond, then decide to just rip the band-aid off.
Aspen: Yeah, I moved out yesterday
A few seconds after I’ve pressed send, my phone rings.
“Hey, Piper.”
“You moved out?”
“Yes,” I whisper, biting back a sob.
“Fucking asshole,” she curses. “I was praying he’d pull his head out of his ass at the last moment.”
“You and me both.”
“Where are you?”
“Rest A Minute.” Seems like all I have in me this morning are one-sentence answers.
“You stayed at that dump? Why didn’t you come to my place?”
I don’t answer because my throat is tight and aching with how hard I’m trying not to cry.
“I was worried about you,” she says, her voice soft.
“Piper,” I manage to choke. “I’m sorry to have worried you. I just…” I sigh, running my hand through my hair.
“I get it. Please, come over. I don’t want you to be alone. I’ve got tequila,” she coaxes, bringing a smile to my face.
“Thanks, Piper. I’ll see you later,” I murmur softly, ending the call, grateful that even though my relationship has ended, I still have friends.
Taking a deep breath, I tap back into my messages and open Ryan’s contact.
Ryan: Hi babe. I tried to call. We’re in New York now, waiting for our connecting flight. We have a two-hour layover. Call me, please. I love you.
We. Our. How nice for the two of you.
Disgusted, I leave him on read and throw my phone back in my bag. I’ve just stepped back into the bathroom when there’s a knock on my door. Piper’s the only one who knows where I am, and it can’t be her. Unless she somehow broke the sound barrier getting here from my…Ryan’s house. Fuck. It’s going to take me a while to get used to that.
I open the door slowly, not really in the mood for anyone. Not just yet.
“What are you doing here?”
“Taking you to breakfast,” Carter says, brushing past me and walking into the room. I gape at him as he pauses, taking in the room with a slight frown. “Not very cheery, is it?”
“How did you know I was here?”
“No wonder they’re struggling,” he mutters as he tips his head back, taking in the stained ceiling. “A few upgrades and this place will be as good as new.”
“Carter,” I say louder, snapping my fingers to get his attention. “How did you know I was here? Did Piper tell you?”
“Piper? No. I haven’t talked to Piper.”
“Then how did you know I was here?”
“I was driving by. Saw your car in the lot and decided I’d rather not eat breakfast alone.” He shrugs, throwing another look around the room before striding back to the door and holding it open. “And I was curious about what this place looks like inside. I’ve never been here, not even on prom night,” he muses, shaking his head. “Are you ready to go? You look ready to go.”
“That’s nice of you, but I’m not hungry.” Or in the mood for conversation, I silently add.
“Come on, breakfast is the meal of champions.”
“If I eat anything now, the only medal I’ll be getting is for barfing,” I mutter, my stomach feeling queasy at the thought. “And it will be a gold one. You willing to hold back my hair for me?” I ask, batting my mascara-coated eyelashes at him.
He grimaces. “Fine. You can watch me eat.”
“Carter, I appreciate the thought. Truly. But I’m not the best company right now.”
“I know,” he says, and I feel my cheeks heat. I haven’t been able to think past my pain, but I guess all our friends know and the last thing I want or need is glances filled with pity being thrown my way. “But you need a friend right now.”
I hate pity, so my voice is more snappish than what is called for when I say, “I have friends.”
“But are any of them as good-looking as me?” he says with a grin, completely ignoring my outburst.
My shoulders deflate. This is not me. I’m not usually bitchy, especially if it’s uncalled for. Giving up the fight, I grab my bag and the keys I threw on the sad-looking nightstand with spindly legs.
“I’m heading over to Piper’s later, so we can’t be too long,” I mutter, my elbow “accidentally” jabbing him in the stomach as I brush past him out the door.
“Have you seen me eat?” he asks, closing the door, hooking his arm around my shoulders, and steering me towards his car.
Twenty minutes later, I’m watching in fascination as he’s shoveling food into his mouth.
“Where do you put all that food?” I ask while nibbling on a piece of toast.
“Here, try some,” he mumbles around a mouthful, holding out his fork that’s piled with runny egg, hash-brown, and bacon.
“I can’t even tempt you a little bit?” he asks, waving his fork around.
Leaning back in the booth, I shake my head.
“Suit yourself.”
In no time, he’s cleared his plate and slumps back with a satisfied sigh. Scrunching up his napkin, he throws it on his plate and stares at me for a beat. “He’s being a dick.”
I don’t need to ask who he’s talking about. I shrug, because what can I say? He is being a dick, but Carter and Ryan have been friends since school and I’m not comfortable talking about it with him. I’m not comfortable talking about it, period.
“I told him what he’s doing is not cool.” He takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes not leaving me. I look away from him and stare out the window our booth is against. It’s turning out to be the perfect day for hiking. Not too hot, with a slight breeze blowing. Even the thought of hiking creates a dull ache in my chest. There’s not a trail here that we haven’t hiked.
“If it helps any, he’s not in love with Hadley.”
“It doesn’t,” I say, looking back at him, not fully believing him. One does not implode a relationship if you didn’t feel something for the other person.
“I suppose it doesn’t.” He’s silent for a beat. “Ryan has always felt responsible for Hadley’s happiness.”
“And in the process, he gave up mine. I drew a line in the sand and he stepped over it.”
No, leaped over it without taking a second to consider my feelings. “Her happiness is more important to him than mine,” I murmur, the thought given words bitter as they leave my mouth.
“I don’t think he sees it that way.”
“It doesn’t matter how he sees it.” I shrug. “He had a choice, and he made it.”
My phone buzzes, and we both glance to where it’s vibrating on the table, Ryan’s name on the screen. I keep my hands in my lap, staring at it like it’s a coiled snake, ready to strike.
“Are you going to get that?”
I shake my head, and eventually it stops ringing, only to start right back up again. Carter reaches for it, and I give him a look that could strip paint from a newly painted wall.
“Don’t you dare.”
He holds up his hands before dropping them back to the table and folding them together. “Normally I’m the one that fucks things up, but he really fucked this up, didn’t he?”
“Would you stick with a girl that took her ex-husband on an island getaway?” I manage through the lump in my throat.
His eyes give me my answer, and I grab my phone, stuffing it back in my bag.
“Can you cook?” he asks, his expression serious.
“What?”
“Can you cook?” He grins. “You know that magical thing that happens in a kitchen where you take a whole lot of nothings and make a something?”
“Yes?”
“Then I have a proposal for you.”
“Okay…”
Leaning back in my chair, I eye him warily.
“So, with all this,” he gestures vaguely, “I’m guessing you’ll be looking for a place to stay?”
My nod is less than enthusiastic because, yeah, looking isn’t the issue. Paying is.
He leans forward, crossing his arms on the table. “Move in with me. I have an extra room. A room you can use till you get back on your feet.”
Frowning, I look down, considering what to say. “Why would you do that?”
“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?”
Immediately I want to scream, yes, let’s go because the idea of having to sleep in my car holds zero appeal, but I take a few seconds to mull it over in my head.
“Wouldn’t that cause trouble between you and Ryan?”
Ryan and I aren’t married, so there are no possessions we need to split, but we both came into this relationship with friends that became mutual friends over time. There are bound to be some casualties, and I thought Carter would be one of them. It was just another arrow to my heart.
“It might. Not because you’ll be staying with me, but because you won’t be staying with him. The way I see it, he dropped the ball, and when he finally pulls his head from his ass, he’ll be thankful for it.”
“I don’t know…” I trail off, my thoughts clouded with doubt.
“Before you start thinking of me as being all kinds of altruistic and shit, I do have an ulterior motive.”
A smile tips my lips. “Ah, this is Carter I know. Hit me with it.”
“I don’t know my ass from my elbow in a kitchen.”
“Ass from your elbow? What the hell does that mean?”
“It’s something this British girl I hooked up with said. Although she called it ‘arse.’ Thought it was quite cool. Basically, it means I’m completely useless in a kitchen. Unlike the bedroom,” he smirks. “I had no complaints there. I want you to take care of the groceries and cook for me.”
“So essentially, you’re looking for a housekeeper?”
“No, I have one of those. She comes in twice a week. I’m just looking for a home-cooked meal now and then. Restaurant food and takeaways get tiresome when that’s all you eat.
“Also, I tend to…entertain quite a bit,” he smirks, “and if you don’t have a problem with that, we’ll be golden.”
A strange sensation flutters in my stomach. It tastes like a little bit of hope where before there was none. Like maybe, just maybe, my head will breach the water, allowing me to take a breath.
“So, shopping, cooking, and turning a blind eye to your revolving door of women in exchange for a room?”
“A home, Aspen. For as long as you need it. No strings attached.”
My heart thuds in my chest, and it takes everything I have not to bawl. Sometimes, when one door closes, another one opens. My door got slammed so hard that my soul is still reeling from it. But Carter—awesome, amazing, Carter—has just opened another for me.