12. Carly
CHAPTER 12
CARLY
G abe makes us go over every inch of the house. I know it’s a distraction technique, but damn him, it works. I don’t exactly want to clean the house for him, and I wouldn’t exactly have called it messy, but by the time we’re done, I’ve almost completely forgotten about the lack of internet connection and the fact that I’m definitely in huge trouble with my clients.
We slump down on the sofa when we’re finished, and despite the fact that it’s not that late, it’s already starting to get dark. A few beats of silence pass, and he says, “Let’s have an early dinner.”
“Early dinner? We barely just ate breakfast.”
“I was going to do a stew for tonight. That’ll take a couple of hours to boil and gives us something to do without the TV.”
“Oh,” I say. “Yeah.”
I forgot that the TV runs on electricity too. It’s amazing how reliant you are on one power until you don’t have it anymore.
Out of nowhere, he says, “You don’t have to spend time with me, you know. You can go to your room. I don’t care.” He says it nonchalantly, but I get the feeling he’s trying to push me away, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with another person sharing his space and trying to get through to him, trying to connect.
“Do you mind if I just hang out? I need to keep my mind off things.”
For a second, I think he’s going to say no, but he glances at me and says, “You can chop vegetables.”
With that, he gets up and goes to the kitchen, not even waiting for me to get up too. I scramble after him, then watch as he retrieves potatoes and carrots and anything else he might need from his front step. “We’ll have to let them defrost awhile,” he says, slamming them down on the counter. “Chicken all right for you?”
“Perfect.”
“You can pick it out if you don’t want it,” Gabe says, and I feel like he doesn’t exactly understand vegetarianism. But it’s sweet of him to try. More than anything, today has proved to me that he is just a guy trying his best.
I think he gives off the wrong impression to people. He’s not a bad guy. Really, he’s just grouchy. If you’re not willing to take the time to see past that, you’d probably assume that he was horrible. But now, horrible is the last word I’d use to describe him.
After he has taken me into his home like this and been kind to me, I couldn’t begin to think it of him.
He heads to a drawer, pulls out a knife and a peeler, and sets them down on the table in front of me. “You can cook, can’t you?”
“Yes, of course,” I huff. “I might live in the city. It doesn’t mean I totally live the high life.”
“You don’t?” He frowns.
“No.” I laugh. “Far from it. My clients pay well, but between travel expenses and all the unpaid overtime I do, plus living right in the city center… Well, I have enough to get by, but I don’t live lavishly.”
He grunts in surprise at that. I can see the cogs turning in his head as he reassesses some of his assumptions about me. I know exactly what I look like to him: a dumb blonde who was stupid enough to go out in the snow and run off the road.
And to be fair to him, it’s not an unreasonable assessment. I was pretty dumb to have driven all this way. But I hope that means he’s about to change his mind about me. I might have made a bad decision that one time, but it doesn’t mean I deserve to be seen as stupid always.
We don’t say much as we prepare the meal. I want to ask him more questions, but I think I’m probably just going to get the same closed-off attitude I’ve been getting all day. He is definitely not an oversharer.
It’s annoying, because I think I am. I definitely have been to him anyway. I’m sure he’s sick and tired of listening to all the woes I have about my life, but I don’t have anyone else to talk to. He might think that I live this wonderful life of luxury, but the truth is, I barely have any friends, and I don’t speak to my family.
Gabe is the only person who has listened to me like I’m a real person in a really, really long time.
I don’t even want to know what that says about me.
“Is this good?” I gesture to some cubes of potato.
“Perfect,” he says, and I catch just the faintest glimmer of a smile on his face. It sends a warm rush right through my core. There is absolutely no reason why his approval should mean anything to me, but being able to make him smile — that feels like a big achievement.
It’s the closest I’ve come to having a positive response for the whole time I’ve been here.
It makes me want to do it again.
We stand in the kitchen for a while longer, pretending that we’re still doing cooking tasks while the stew bubbles away. Gabe puts some of the plates from his dishwasher away, and I pretend to help him.
Despite all our differences, we’ve settled into an easy routine here. With some people, hanging out in silence feels like the worst thing you could possibly be doing to them. Like it’s genuinely agonizing. But with Gabe… he doesn’t seem to mind the silence.
He doesn’t mind doing what he’s doing while I’m doing what I’m doing. It’s an ease that I’ve rarely felt with someone else. It makes me feel like I’ve been spending my time with the wrong people.
As soon as I think that, as if on cue, my phone rings. I swear in surprise, and my heart freezes when I see the caller ID. It’s Millie. The bride. And no doubt she has a few choice words for me.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I have to take this.”
“The client?” he asks. I nod, swallowing. “Good luck,” he says.
“I’m going to need it.”
I slide through to the living room and close the door behind me. I take a deep breath, then answer. “Hello?”
“And just where the hell have you been?” snaps Millie.
“Well, I—” I start before she cuts me off.
“We were expecting to meet you today, and all you’ve done is ignore us. Don’t you know how busy we are? Don’t you know how much of our time you’ve wasted by not showing up? We could have spent this time doing something useful, but because we were assured you were the best, we put it aside to meet you. Do you think this is good enough?”
“No, but I?—”
“Cassidy, who used you last year, said that you were one of the most reliable people she’d ever met. She said you made magic for her and Dave. Do you not like us or something? Is that why you haven’t showed up? Because I don’t think that’s very professional. Do you think that’s very professional?”
“No, I don’t. But if you just let me?—”
“I don’t need your excuses, Connie.”
“Carly,” I correct her, gritting my teeth.
“What excuse can you even give that’s good enough?”
“Car trouble,” I croak.
“Car trouble,” she echoes snobbishly. It’s clear she doesn’t believe me.
“It’s the truth,” I say. “I’m here in Michigan. I just?—”
“You know what? Save it. You were meant to meet with us this morning, and you weren’t here. I’ll give you one more chance. I want to see you at five o’clock sharp, or else, this whole thing’s off.”
“My car is in the shop,” I blurt out. “I’ll never be able to make it.”
“You’re telling me you can’t make our meeting, even though you promised that you were the very best person for this job? Even though you promised that every time we needed anything from you, you would be there for us in person?”
“I did, but?—”
“Will you be able to make a meeting at five o’clock or not? Yes or no, Connie.”
I swallow hard, tears burning in the back of my eyes. “No,” I whisper.
“What’s that?”
“No…”
“Okay, well in that case, you’re fired. Bye.”
“Wait, no!” But before I can say anything else, Millie hangs up the phone and leaves me open-mouthed in the middle of Gabe’s living room. There’s no point in trying to call her back, in attempting to beg or grovel. I know she meant it.
Just like that, my life is in ruins.