Chapter Eight
Adelaide
I’m tapping my toes in a little dance of happiness as I sit in the diner. I glance at my phone again. I’m so nervous and excited, I can’t sit still. My head is on a swivel, watching for Asher’s familiar messy hair.
My day has been perfect. I woke up to Poe still asleep. Even though I was looking at his hair and ear, the knowledge that he kept his word about not hanging up made me feel giddy.
The day at work was filled with pictures of Racer living its best life all over LA. The constant presence of him reassures everything in me that had a protest.
Seeing the other side of his intense nature was startling when I thought about it at first. Until I remembered Damon saying to count my panties. He saw something I didn’t know was coming.
That’s why he needed the little dot and called himself crazy for it. He needs to know I’m real and that I’m not drawing back. Little does he know that he opened up the floodgates for my curiosity to come out and play. I’m constantly poking him just to keep his attention on me. Even now, while I’m waiting for Ash to show up and let me gush all over his group of chosen people.
I want the perfect ending to this day. My family and Poe’s phone call later tonight.
So, why do I feel like something is wrong?
Six o’clock comes, and I stifle the urge to text Asher and tell him to hurry up.
Six-twenty rolls around, and some of my excitement has morphed into dread. At six-thirty, I break and call him.
It rings several times and goes to voicemail. I try to sound upbeat when I leave a message, but it’s a struggle.
When I don’t hear from him at seven, I text him.
Me: You forget about dinner?
Sure, it might be passive-aggressive, but this is ridiculous. That sinking feeling in my heart says I’ve been abandoned. I don’t want to think it of Asher, but the way the rest of the family has recently shown me their real faces makes it hard for me not to.
He doesn’t even text me back.
I need to calm down. He never texts back right away. I’ll just be patient for a bit longer.
Even with the internal pep talk, my excitement slowly fizzles out. What occupies the space is a familiar heartache that only Asher’s rejection can evoke. An old wound still throbbing that just got a good, hard jab.
I give it another fifteen minutes and force myself to get up. I order a to-go, lonely dinner that I shouldn’t be having, and watch Poe’s dot move around on the app. I send him a poke to let him know I’m watching. A second later, my phone vibrates as he pokes back.
A text from Ash comes through.
Asher: No.
When did he turn into Poe? The thought makes me laugh a little. I’m relieved he’s answering me. I got myself all worked up for nothing.
Me: What happened?
Asher: Something came up.
Me: Is everything ok?
I scowl at my phone, watching the little writing bubble pop up over and over. What I see next should not have taken that long to write, and I want to throw my phone away from me.
Asher: Sex is always amazing not just ok.
Ack! Too much info! I know he’s doing it on purpose, even if it’s the truth. Grossing me out is a great way to halt any conversation.
Me: Changing the subject! I have something important to share next time I see you. We can try again later.
I get a thumbs up in reply.
I head home, trying not to pout. The only witnesses to my lonely set-up for dinner are my raccoons.
I’m about to text Poe and taunt him into more sexy photos when a call from Suzette comes in. I see the name and hesitate to answer for the first time.
I can still see the texts in my mind. They’ve been stuck there ever since I saw them, posted in the back of my head. I’m not sure I want to have the live version from my little sister.
I shake myself out of it. Suzette isn’t the type to be mean to someone’s face. My sweet, innocent little sister doesn’t have it in her, even when she should.
That makes my decision to answer a little easier.
“Hey,” I chirp with a wary smile. “How goes it, little sis?”
“Busy,” she giggles. “I’m almost done with the painting for Ash. Want me to send a pic?”
“Of course,” I scoff. She never needs to ask me. I love seeing her work.
“I’ll send it over later,” she assures me. I can hear her happiness clearly. One of her men is in the background, griping about something that makes her laugh and call him lazy.
I want that. I want to laugh with Poe and give him hell for slacking off. Or cuddle him out of a bad mood. Little things that amount to a whole heap of love.
I’m thinking about telling her about him to test the waters, but I never get a chance. Suzette is a talker, so it isn’t surprising that she starts off thinking I have nothing to say.
“I see you’re doing another expo,” she starts off in a sunny tone.
It makes me think of the complaint about getting the email invites. That shuts my mouth as pain hits me in the chest.
“I’m not?” I frown in confusion.
“I just saw the email,” Suzette says, sounding surprised.
I think back and let out a soft laugh that I don’t really feel. “How often do you check your email, sis? That last one was a few months ago.”
Silence falls between us. Something awkward and heavy that I don’t know what to do with. I tried to deflect my hurt with humor, but it doesn’t seem to be helping this time.
“Well crap,” she lets out a laugh that seems tense. “I’m sorry I missed it.”
I don’t know what to say. She’s never been to one before anyway. What’s to feel sorry about? She would have sent a text telling me she couldn’t make it anyway, if she acknowledged it at all.
It’s the fact that she called attention to it that’s making me ache inside.
If she’s missed seeing it for months, does that mean my emails go to junk mail? I know she’s obsessed with checking her inbox to get rid of the little red dot on her phone. She lets her junk box fill up before she checks that one.
“Damn,” she mutters and takes a deep, steadying breath. Like she’s bracing herself for an argument.
It makes my guts churn with nerves. I’m a champ at fighting back word for word. Whatever she’s about to say is going to piss me off.
“Did you maybe send it late?”
My brows furrow. What a lame-as-hell attempt to put the blame on me. “I have that stuff set up to automatically send to family. And I post it on social media at the same time. It’s scheduled.”
“I missed it there, too? Are you sure you set this one on the right day?”
I am. I’m always excited about expos. I meet new people and make a good bit of money. I’m proud to do them and want to share them with anyone who would listen.
“Sure,” I suddenly agree, even though it kills a little piece of me to give in.
She’s wrong, and she knows it. She’s just digging herself deeper into the lie and trying to force me to accept that it’s my fault instead of hers.
Making her admit it would be pointless. An argument that ends with me as the bully who makes her face her mistakes. I’m suddenly exhausted at the thought of fighting it out to prove her wrong.
I’m so tired of trying. It’s obviously gotten me nowhere if I’m still having to do it. If they want to see me as evil, let them. I know myself better than they ever will.
My quick capitulation makes her take another breath. This one is in surprise.
“Oh,” her laugh is relieved. “Since you’re in a good mood, maybe I can convince you to drop Maman from the list you have? They get her fired up on a rant about tattoos every time.”
I guess she’s striking while the iron is hot. I gave in to one thing, and now she’s pressing for more. How could she think I’m in a good mood for letting this slide? It hurts .
“The rant gets a little old at family dinner,” she presses on. I can imagine her face now. Wincing and hopeful at the same time. Even the background noise on her side has stopped so her husbands can listen in.
“I’m familiar.” My voice is starting to get quieter. I don’t mean for it to do that. It’s not like me.
I came to this town to get away from that type of rant. But Sophia and Suzette are still around for them.
“Addie?”
Her hesitant call of my name brings me back from my thoughts.
I’m changing this right now. I don’t need this extra stress.
“You’re right. I don’t have to get the rant in person, so why should you?” I try to sell it with a laugh that sounds brittle.
“Really?” Her surprise is a bit much. I’ve given in on things before, haven’t I?
“Yeah,” I say with more determination than before. “I don’t want anyone miserable or anything.”
She seems stunned silent. I feel like I should mark my calendar for it. A silent Suzette is rare.
Am I really that unreasonable to her?
“Well, thank you,” she says, sounding elated now. It’s making me regret answering her call even more.
A text comes through, and I don’t hesitate to check who it is. I want to get away from this situation before it spirals even more.
As soon as I see Poe’s name, my attention is shot. Why stay on the phone to be miserable when I have something happy just for me waiting in the wings?
“I gotta go,” I break the awkward silence. “Something important just came up.”
“Have fun,” Suzette laughs with relief.
“You too,” I mutter quickly and hang up.
Poetry: Missing you Siren.
A picture of him sitting on a leather couch, looking exhausted, comes in right after. I can see the dark circles under his eyes.
“Oh, cher . You aren’t taking care of yourself.”
I send a text back to correct that. No sexy times tonight. It’s a disappointing thought, but he obviously needs sleep.
Me: You look so tired. Call it a night and tuck you and Racer into bed.
Poetry: How was your family dinner? I forgot to tell you to switch to decaf this morning.
I scoff at his belief that something like that would help me stay calm.
Me: No show for little bro. I’m trying not to picture WHY.
I send him a picture of me gagging in horror.
Poetry: They’re in the honeymoon phase?
Me: And they’ll never leave it. I don’t need to hear about it though.
It isn’t until we chat for a bit that I realize he hasn’t gone to bed. When I call him out, he admits he wanted to see how long it would take before I noticed. I retaliate by telling him I’m refusing to answer any more texts, no matter what, until morning. I save the pouting picture he sends me as my home screen.