Chapter Thirty-Three
“When your heart breaks, it can feel like an actual heart attack. Just the most awful feeling in the world.” – Viviana
DEREK
“I think this will work great for what you need.” Archer plants his hands on his hips, nodding at the giant storage container that he found.
“I agree,” I say, stepping into the empty space. It’s a start. A start I didn’t know I would actually need—a start I wouldn’t have come to if it hadn’t been for Elizabeth.
I rub at my chest, my eyes pricking at the memory of her, and sigh. It’s been four days. Four days of no contact, no phone calls, no texts.
I finally found out that she was at Graham’s place, and he apologized for not telling me right away, but I don’t hold that against him.
He was stuck in the middle with no clear out in sight.
I was glad, to be honest, that she felt comfortable enough to seek a place that was safe for her to escape to.
She knew that if she was at her folks, I would have found out and probably camped on the lawn until she spoke to me.
I’ve still called her every morning and every night. I’ve texted her good morning, and I’ve said good night to them both.
No idea if they’ve seen my messages, I still don’t know what Rora knows. But I selfishly hope that she’s clueless, that her trust in me isn’t waning, and that she doesn’t think this person who she’s come to rely on just flaked out in her life.
Of course, she’s four, so it probably is nothing to her, but still, I know how that feels to have someone disappear, and I’m not going to be that person for her. For anyone.
“Did you get that order settled up with Tom?” Archer asks, leaning against the side of the unit.
“Yup, supplies start arriving tomorrow, and we should have his full shipment by the end of next week.”
“Great. I know he’s got a big mouth, so if that goes well, you’ll be getting more work thrown at you.”
I shake my head, fuzzy with all the things it’s been sorting through over the last five days. Essentially, Elizabeth’s plan was genius. All it needed was to be executed.
I know she’s brilliant, I see it every day. But my friends now got a front-row seat to how amazing she is. Everyone was pitching in in ways they know how. Jane had invested in Fowler with an amazing deal for me, one that I know I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere else.
Archer and Garrett have been helping at the shop when they can, and Archer was helping me build my contact list as we went along.
Chris was looking into warehouses, since the one Birdie found was a little too much for how much I was able to invest. But using the storage unit for now would mean I could start making money. I could get the store out of the hole that it was in, and I could get on top of my finances.
Enzo and Nora both were making sure I was fed, as eating wasn’t something I was particularly into at the moment. There was something for me to take for breakfast every day, along with a packed lunch, and I was instructed to be at their restaurant every evening for dinner.
I never really took a lot of time to head to their place for dinner, and I was regretting that now, as it was, of course, delicious, and the people they work with were amazing.
It was a distraction, a good one, but a distraction nonetheless.
The store is quiet this evening. Something is missing from it, and I know exactly what it is. There’s this unnatural quiet that is taunting me, keeping me from reaching that destination of contentedness, and it has everything to do with the woman I love not being here anymore.
I hate it.
I hate it with every fiber of my being.
I pull my phone out of my pocket, intent on calling her and begging for another chance, when the bell rings above the door. Hope unfurls in my chest, and I wait for a moment for the person who’s entered to show themselves.
When they do, I’m both shocked and let down.
“Roger?” I step around the counter and hold out my hand for him to shake.
He gives me a solemn look, taking my hand and glancing around the store. “Quiet tonight.”
I nod my head, letting our hands drop, and say, “Tuesday nights are usually pretty dead.”
“Sure, sure.” He nods his head, pursing his lips before he looks back at me. “You doing all right, son?”
The words are not the ones I’m expecting, and for some reason, they damn near make me emotional.
“Uh, been better, if I’m honest.”
Roger nods and says, “Sure. I understand that. Birdie let us know what was going on, she’s been pretty sad about it all. Told us you two were… well, taking some space.”
The words gut me all over again, before he continues.
“She thinks you need some time away from her, that she was overstepping.”
I’m shaking my head before he can finish his sentence, and shame coats my skin like raindrops. “Absolutely not. She wasn’t overstepping, I was just embarrassed that I’ve let the shop get this far.”
Hell. Everyone already knows everything so I may as well spill it all.
“I’ve been barely scraping by for over a year, trying desperately to make ends meet.
I was about to give up when I met Birdie again, and…
” I pause, thinking over how I want to say it.
Roger’s sad expression just makes me realize how pathetic I must look, but I don’t care.
“Birdie made me realize that I want this to succeed, that I need it to.”
“Because you want to take care of her, of Rora.”
“Of course I do,” I start, pleading with him. “I love your daughter, sir. I love Rora. They’re my family now.”
He nods, letting out a deep sigh. “Being apart from them must be rough.”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” I almost tell him that I feel like my heart has been ripped from my chest, but it seems dramatic, and I don’t think Roger takes that seriously.
“Well, what are you going to do?”
I bite the inside of my lip. “I don’t know. I’ve started to implement her plan for the store, and it’s working. I’ve called and texted, trying to get her to talk to me.”
“Have you gone to her?”
Shaking my head, I say, “She’s up at my best friend’s house.”
“No, she’s not,” he answers, making my head jerk up at him. “She’s home now. She had to work, and Rora had school.”
“She’s home?” And how long has she been there exactly?
“Yup.” He nods, and I grab my things, closing out the register. “What are you gonna do?”
I pause for a moment and say, “I’m gonna talk to her.”
He eyes me, and framing the sentence as a question, says, “And keep a cool head?”
Shame spirals through me again, and I calm myself down. The hope I’ve been feeling in the last ten seconds is still pulsing under my skin, but I nod my head. “Of course, sir.”
“Good man.”
I’ve always been a big pacer. Something about the energy that buzzes beneath my skin makes it nearly impossible for me to hold still, and being that I was about to see the love of my life again for the first time since I nearly ruined everything, that energy was at an all-time high.
I see the light from the living room on through the curtains, along with the sounds of a children’s movie playing. I don’t want to bombard Birdie, but I couldn’t stop myself from knocking on this door if I tried.
Letting my knuckles hit it softly, I stuff my hands in my pockets and take a step back, giving her space.
When the door opens and her face comes into view, I feel my heart beat faster, as if to say, there she is, let me have her! But I keep a calm, cool expression on my face and give her a small smile.
“Can we talk?” I ask, not stepping forward, not making the moves my body is pressing for me to do.
She glances behind her, and Hattie must know what’s happening because Birdie steps out without concern for Rora. That means I’m not invited in.
That’s okay.
That doesn’t hurt… too much.
“What do you want to talk about?” Birdie’s arms are folded over her chest, her oversized sweater wrapping around her like a blanket, and her long honey-blonde hair flows in soft waves around her face.
She is breathtaking, always will be.
“I’ve been calling,” I start, rather lamely, honestly.
“I know. I’ve been really busy and…” She pauses, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. She keeps her eyes trained on me, not an ounce of fear in her expression. Though, there is a heaping dose of sadness that I absolutely hate to see. “I’ve been trying to decide what to say back.”
I nod my head, my palms sweating in my pockets.
“I understand. The way I behaved was despicable behavior, Birdie. I didn’t mean anything I said about you not helping.
I was embarrassed and caught off guard.” I let my shoulders drop.
“But that’s no excuse. I treated you badly, and I never, ever want to be someone who treats you badly. ”
I see her work her jaw, and the light from the front porch catches her eyes. When I see the tears forming there, I take a step forward, but her hand comes up to stop me. “You did. You yelled at me when all I wanted was to help you.”
My throat starts to close, my brows furrow, and my eyes water as I watch the woman I love hurt. And there isn’t anything I can do about it.
“I thought.” Her head shakes as she thinks through what she wants to say. “Gosh, even thinking about saying what I was thinking is stupid now, embarrassing.”
I take a desperate step forward, and her scent hits me then, nearly making my knees buckle. “Say it.”
Birdie’s tongue sticks in her cheek, and her first tear slips past her eyelid and runs down her face.
“I thought maybe this would be my future too. I hate my job, you know I do.” I nod, my chest cracking open at seeing and hearing her disappointment.
Disappointment in me. “I had this fantasy, I guess. Something in my head where you and I work together, where the store could become our story, you know? How we brought it back to honor your dad and kept it going and”—her head shakes again—“saying it out loud really sounds dumb. You never promised me any of that.”
“I did though,” I say in a rush, feeling this dream—this beautiful, wonderful, magnificent dream—of hers slipping through our fingers with every word.
“I promised to love you, to care for you, to help you through all of the things life brought our way, and when you pushed a little on the business, I freaked out. I didn’t want you to know the truth, I didn’t want you to know that I was draining my accounts, going in the negative weekly to keep things afloat.
” I swallow hard, my eyes desperately conveying how deeply sorry I am.
“I was beyond embarrassed, Birdie. No one knew what was going on.”
For several moments, we stare at each other in silence. Me, memorizing every detail of her pretty face, wondering how I was such an idiot and nearly threw this all away over pride. Her, well, I don’t know what she’s looking for, but I don’t like the resigned look on her face.
“Well.” Finally, she speaks, and I hold my breath to see what she says. “I guess, I’m sorry for overstepping—”
“You did not overstep,” I say, louder than I mean to, but frustration beats at my chest. and desperation has me spilling my guts.
“You were looking out for me, for our business,” I say “our” with purpose, hoping she’s hearing what I’m really saying.
“I’ve been an idiot, Birdie. One of the dumbest men on the planet. I should have talked to you.”
“You should have,” she agrees, but it doesn’t feel like we’re getting anywhere. We’re just talking in circles. “But I still am sorry for ambushing you. That wasn’t my intention.”
“And I’m sorry for talking to you that way,” I say, again, apologizing for being an idiot. “I should have never done that, and I swear, I will never do it again.”
Birdie watches me, her arms folding tighter against her chest, holding herself purposefully away from me. “Okay.”
Okay? Okay. What does “okay” mean? “So, do you forgive me?”
“Yes, I forgive your outburst. I understand the pressure you’re under.”
“Good, great. I am, and I will never take it out on you ever again.” I step closer, but if possible, she shrinks by the door. “Birdie?”
Her eyes shutter closed, and she exhales a shaky breath. “I forgive you, but…”
But… oh no.
“I can’t be with you again.”
Someone must have, without my knowledge or permission, jammed a sword right through my heart. I grapple with something to say, something that will magically and forever change her mind, and come up… blank.
I don’t come up blank. I’m the one who has the romantic ideas, I’m the one who gets the grand gestures planned and organized, I’m the one who fixes relationships.
But now, faced with my own demise… I’ve got nothing.
“Ever?” my brilliant mind asks, staring at her with horror slicing through my every bone.
“Not ever,” she whispers, shaking her head, tears filling her eyes. “I just can’t right now. I can’t slip back to how it was before. I love you, Derek. Rora loves you. But you really hurt me.”
I feel like my knees are going to give out beneath me, making me crumble to them in front of her. My mouth opens, and my brain pushes for words to come, like “please” and “I’m sorry” and “don’t leave me.”
I don’t say any of that, because deep down I know it won’t solve a thing.
For once, I need to keep my mouth shut.
For once, I need to do what’s best for her, push my selfish need to fix this problem aside, and allow her to move at her own pace.
“Okay,” I say, finally finding a voice I can use. “But I can’t give up, Birdie. I know I broke something here, but I’m going to fix it.”
She eyes me, hope or fear or something warring in her eyes, and doesn’t say a word back.
I take a step back, then another. But I stop myself and ask, “How’s Rora?”
Birdie softens at my question and nods. “She’s doing good, she asks about you a lot.”
That makes my heart ache, and I nod. “I miss her.”
“She misses you,” she replies and opens her mouth to say more but snaps it closed.
“Does she know…?” I let the question hang.
“No,” Birdie replies, giving me more hope with that answer than I think she realizes. “I’ve just been saying you’re working a lot.”
I am working a lot, more than I have in three years, but I don’t say that. It feels weird to talk about it now, even though I’m implementing her plan.
I think the hurt that I’ve caused overshadows the entirety of my shop actually looking like it might be successful.
I’m here for her and her alone.
“Thank you,” I say and mean it. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to. I don’t need her to be hurting too.”
Too.
Dammit. I need to fix this. We’re all hurting, and it’s my fault.
I give her a nod and step back toward my car, feeling like I was leaving my heart behind me as I do.
Because that’s exactly what I am doing.