Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Paisley
T he tap-dancing gorillas that were currently working on a special piece for the morning did not want to let up anytime soon. The fact that they were on my temples at the moment, practicing with their little tap taps and oddly delicate sashays, meant that if I opened my eyes, I might actually die. That could be the end of life as I knew it.
Of course, because I had the memory of an elephant, I could remember exactly what had happened the night prior, and why I was currently having an imaginary conversation with those tap-dancing gorillas from my headache.
I knew I must have been near the end of my sanity as I was apparently leaning into the circus and safari themes of my nightmares. Or would they be daymares now because I could sense the sun cutting through the blinds that were not my own as they shone over my closed eyelids.
Of course. Of course.
I was ridiculous in so many ways, but never in ways that I let others see. In fact I was usually good about keeping my ridiculousness at bay.
It wouldn’t be great for the world to see Paisley Cassidy Renee act as if she did not know what she was doing. She couldn’t be the ridiculous one without any sense of knowledge or kindness.
No, she had to be steady.
But I hadn’t been her last night. No, I had been the insane one who had decided to drink far too much. And not only had it been so unsafe, but I was lucky I hadn’t made even more mistakes than I already had; it was also just another reason that led me into my current hell.
I took a deep breath, pushing all memories and thoughts I did not want to focus on out of my mind so I could do the unthinkable.
I opened my eyes.
With a deep breath, I then promptly shut those lids. No. Too much sun. Way too much sun.
The tap-dancing gorillas had now been joined with a trio of violin-wielding crocodiles who had decided to serenade me with their hell.
Was I still drunk? That was quite a possibility. One never knew these days.
Especially when it felt as if I was never going to be able to recover from what had just happened.
And it wasn’t even the current pain residing in my skull, or the fact that as I opened my eyes one more time, the light blinded. No it was none of those things.
It was because I knew exactly where I was.
I wasn’t at home. I wasn’t in a stranger’s bedroom after a night of intoxicating sex in which it was all mistakes and terrible decisions. No, it couldn’t be a stranger. I couldn’t have even been kidnapped by a crazy knife-wielding man. No.
I had been saved by my ex-husband. No, not the one that I had divorced yesterday. But the one that had divorced me years before.
And there were always going to be those qualifications, weren’t they?
Because Jacob and I had divorced each other, even though he had cheated on me, we had divorced each other. Much to my mother’s painstaking disappointment.
But August? He had left me.
And now here I was, sleeping in what had to be his guest bedroom, and under his roof for the first time.
Why was it that it couldn’t only be embarrassment crawling over my skin? No. It had to be something worse. Was that pity for myself—no, it couldn’t be that. Was it pain? That made a little more sense. Because I didn’t know why I would be feeling like this. I shouldn’t feel this way.
With some distinct effort, I forced myself into a sitting position and took stock of my situation. I had no idea where August was. I didn’t even know if he was in the house. Maybe he had left me here and gone to his girlfriend’s home. I held back an audible groan at that thought.
His girlfriend.
I had no room to talk. I had been married until late yesterday afternoon. I should’ve been happy he had moved on. With a nice, caring woman who hadn’t even blinked about the fact that the man she had currently been dating had left with a drunk woman in the passenger seat. Or maybe the woman was completely clueless and maybe August did that often. Helped drunk women and stuffed them in his guest rooms.
It had taken me a moment to realize why I had been in his guest room and not my home. Because of course August didn’t know where I lived. I didn’t know where he lived either. In fact I had no idea where I was. I had no idea if we lived in similar neighborhoods, or on opposite ends of Denver. Because Denver wasn’t just main city Denver. If you said you were from Denver, you could be from one of over a dozen suburbs. We all lived in different towns within Denver. Whether it was Arvada or Littleton or Westminster or Centennial. All of these places still counted, at least when you talked about the grand scheme of things. In fact, I had driven through two suburbs to go from the lawyer’s office to my house and then back to the bar. So for all I knew, I could be neighbors with him or be an hour away.
Then again, I had been countless miles from him even when I thought he had loved me. So what did I know? But no, I had things to do. I would schedule a car to get me home—after I found my clothes, because I was currently wearing shorts and a shirt that were not mine. I was at least wearing my balconette bra and panties, so there was that. But he had seen enough. Of course his mouth had been over every inch of me at one point in our lives, and while I didn’t look exactly the same, I shouldn’t be too embarrassed. I had probably thrown up all over my clothing, and he was just trying to deal with the smell. I was a disgusting mess.
And of course, even through my drunken haze, and that hangover that would not quit, I could remember exactly what I had told him the night prior. I could still hear the words seeping through my lips as I sat on these blue cotton sheets with the stone-gray curtains not blocking out the sun.
This place looked homey, with a few odds and ends I remembered from our shared home. As if he had tossed things in this place that didn’t have a certain space for it in the other parts of his home.
I needed to get up and get through this. Live through the embarrassment, and my own disappointment, and then get home.
And then I could get through the rest of my day, and my life, and be the complete disappointment that I was to everyone else. It was what I was getting good at.
I slid out of bed, grateful I didn’t fall flat on my face. After I took one wobbly step, I put my palms in front of me, rolled my shoulders back, and let out a breath.
“You are Paisley Fucking Renee. You can do this.”
I didn’t dare mention the Cassidy part of my name when I was in a home of a Cassidy. It was like summoning Beetlejuice or something.
At least that’s what I was telling myself.
I quickly went to the restroom, took care of business, and was grateful when I saw a toothbrush there, with a little sticky note with my name on it.
Ever the organized teacher, he had thought of everything.
And I hated the fact that I still missed the sight of his handwriting. What the hell had I drunk last night? Memories and regrets?
I was never doing that again. Even if I had to search for the Paisley I wanted to be for the rest of my life, the drunk dumbass one was not going to be it.
At least that righteous anger at myself could push away some of the disappointment and utter agony seeping through my system. Was it seeping ? No, it was a tearing, an utter grating as it ripped through my organs, reminding me that they would scar me until the day I let out a breath that was the end of my nights.
I couldn’t find my clothes, but hopefully I would find them once I got out of this room. I pulled my hair back in a ponytail with the elastic on my wrist, washed my face, and I figured that was all the dignity I could muster.
It wasn’t like I could find anything else.
I rolled my shoulders back, opened the door, and stepped into the hallway.
The scent of bacon sizzling filled my nose, and the sound of the news filtering through the air hit my system.
August was here. And this was his home.
Not our home.
I let out a breath, and walked with my chin held high to the kitchen of the man I thought I had been in love with.
August stood there, his back to the TV as he worked on breakfast over the stovetop. He had on an olive-green Henley, with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and worn jeans that had seen better days. He had bare feet, and his hair pushed back from his face. It was a little longer than I was used to seeing him with, and it curled a bit at the nape of his neck.
With that rugged jaw of his and the slight beard he wore, he was a beautiful man. Rugged, but with a great smile that honestly reached his eyes.
I hadn’t seen that smile aimed at me in a long time.
He did smile though, he showed emotions when it came to his nieces. He was the sweetest man with his family. And I was grateful he had that.
Because I wasn’t sure I would have ever fit in that way with his family. After all, I had barely seen them during our short disastrous marriage. We had been young, in love, and apparently stupid.
“Your coffee’s on the counter. If you’re done staring at me.”
I blinked, and swallowed hard, wondering how long I had been standing there, and when he had noticed.
“I also set down some water, and another ibuprofen if you want it. Breakfast is almost done.”
Again he wouldn’t look at me.
Damn it. Why was I here?
But that coffee looked good and smelled even better. I took three steps toward it, and looked down at the mug, at the perfect coloring of that coffee. With just a dash of cream, and the sweet scent of chicory.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Because he had made me coffee exactly how I liked it in the mornings. I could go for lattes or espressos or any other type of coffee later on. Even cold brews if I was feeling it. But my first cup of coffee in the morning was chicory with a little cream. And he had remembered.
I took a sip, and the taste exploded over my tongue, nearly sending me into bliss as my eyes pricked with tears.
I hated him so much just then. Because he had left.
Like they all did.
I set my mug down and reached for the water before taking the two pills.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asked as he turned to me, a plate in hand. He set down the bacon and eggs in front of me, and my stomach roiled.
I shook my head and immediately regretted it. I was hungover, and I only wanted this coffee.
“Eat. It’ll help your stomach.”
“I’m fine. Thank you. The coffee’s good.”
He just grunted.
And then he stared at me, and I knew if I did not at least take a bite, he would continue to glare at me until the end of our days. Because the only friends I had in this town I loved happened to be related to this man. So I was never going to be out of his vicinity until the end of my days. Because that was my lot in life.
With a sigh, I took the fork he had set down next to the plate and cracked the yolk on the over-easy egg. My stomach rumbled even as nausea waved over me, but then I set the fork down and dipped my bacon into the egg.
August’s jaw tightened at the look of it, but I ignored him, letting the saltiness spread over my tongue so I could breathe.
I continued to eat, and after a few more bites, he dug into his plate, eating in methodical bites without looking at me. The greasy food along with the piece of toast he had buttered to perfection next to the eggs seemed to settle my stomach, even as I tried not to break down.
“You need to tell me, Paise.”
“I’m fine.”
And I hated when he called me Paise. I would never call him Augie, as I didn’t like the name, and the only people who called him Augie liked to be jerks to him. But he had always called me Paise when he had smiled at me and joked around. And I hated it. Because I was not his anymore.
“I’ll tell the girls. I’ll call them right now and they’ll get it out of you.”
I looked up from my empty plate, surprised I had finished, and narrowed my gaze at him. “Fine. I got a divorce yesterday. And I wanted to celebrate.”
I hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but the news would hit the cycle soon, as the Barton family was infamous in this town, and my business dealings led to some media attention. But I had wanted to tell the girls first.
Instead I was telling my first ex-husband that I now had a second. I was so winning at life.
August just blinked at me. “What the fuck did Jacob do?”
And why did it feel like he had hugged me in that moment, emotion running its sharp prick of anxiety and hope into my heart at the fact that he thought it was Jacob.
That Jacob had hurt me.
No, Jacob couldn’t hurt the iciness in my chest. I had frozen over long ago and I hadn’t even realized the full extent of it until I had been able to so easily walk away from Jacob, the man who had cheated on me.
No, the person that had broken me was standing right there in front of me.
Just like the other person who had completed that shattered mess looked at me every time I stared into a mirror.
We were one and the same, my reflection and his past, and I never wanted to drown in that memory again.
“It just didn’t work out,” I said icily.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice so low it was barely above a whisper.
My spine straightened, and I shook my head, this time not feeling nauseous. The breakfast and meds with coffee had worked.
Damn the man.
“Not in the way you think.”
Except that once.
I didn’t say it out loud.
August’s eyes narrowed anyway. “I’m going to kill him,” he growled.
Despite that odd sensation that slid through me at the words, I immediately raised my chin. “No. You will not. It’s done and over. And I’m sorry for putting you out last night. Please apologize to your date as well. Thank you for helping me not make another mistake.”
“Paisley…” he began.
I held up my hand, before sliding my dishes into the sink. “No. I appreciate all you’ve done. But I am going to go get dressed, and then call a car. I will do dishes after I get dressed, so don’t worry about it.”
“I can do the fucking dishes.”
I didn’t flinch at his tone. “Fine. Then thank you again. For everything. Please tell your date that I’m sorry.”
“Dakota wasn’t upset. But I’ll tell her you said that. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not in the slightest, August.”
When he froze for that instant, I realized I did not say his name often. How odd to think that between us that he was the one who said my name, and I tried never to say his. What did that say about me?
“What are you going to do about the vacation up in the mountains we’re all going to soon?”
I cursed under my breath, as I had forgotten the damn Cassidy vacation. I hadn’t even wanted to go, and Jacob certainly hadn’t. It was probably because he had been so adamant about not going, that I had gone full head into helping the girls plan the damn thing.
August’s two brothers and his sister, as well as all of their spouses and children were going to be at this event. It was a lovely vacation in the mountains for the families, and the girls had wanted me to come, because I had become part of their family, though not August’s. When August had said he would be fine with it, as he was going to bring a date, I thought why not. So I would bring my husband, and we’d all be one happy family in this modern world.
And now I was in a new hell. This time with mountain peaks and skiing.
“I’ll cancel, or I’ll go. I don’t know. You don’t need to worry about it.”
I would just be the seventh wheel. But you know, I was used to that.
“You don’t need to get a car. You don’t need to cancel. Let me just drive you home.”
I took a step back from him, needing that armor again. “If you’ll just point to me where my clothes are, I’ll do that.”
“Your pants are over there and your shirt is in the washer. I have one of Greer’s shirts for you though,” he said, speaking of his sister.
For some reason I was grateful that it was his sister’s, and not his girlfriend’s. But I wasn’t going to lean too hard into those thoughts. That way lay so much trouble.
“Thank you. I’ll get it back to you.” I sounded so prim and polite. I hated myself in that moment.
“Paisley. I’m here, you know. If you need me.”
I just looked at him then, wondering exactly when this had occurred. And who this man was.
“I’m fine, August. I will be. Thank you.”
And I quickly called for that car service and got undressed. By the time I was ready, my little purse and phone in hand, the dishes were done, the news was off, and August was in his office. Probably grading papers or doing the countless other things he did as a teacher. He worked so many hours, probably just as many as me, but never got a thank you.
I wanted to say something, but I wasn’t sure what there was to say. Instead I left a note, something simple, just a goodbye and a thank you.
And then I walked to the car, grateful my driver didn’t say a word. I could have hired my actual car service, instead of a rideshare, but I hadn’t wanted to deal with the questions from my staff. So instead, I made my way home, to the place that was not Jacob’s, but just mine, and locked the door behind me.
I should have expected the slap.
But then again, life came at you fast when you weren’t paying attention.
Pain ricocheted over my face as I staggered back into the door and looked into the eyes that were so like my own.
“How could you,” my mother spat, and I lowered my head, letting out a breath, knowing she wouldn’t hit me again. But I could deal with her yelling.
I always did.