Chapter Twenty-Eight Elise
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Elise
Hi, this is Paul, leave a message...
"Paul, what the fuck?!"
Balancing the phone between my shoulder and cheek, I adjust the boxes in my hands. I had taken Rhea’s threat of physically throwing me out seriously since this she-beast had a good fifty pounds and five inches on me.
"You just left me here?!"
My voice rises in pitch, catching the attention of an older couple walking up to the building. My expression must look as unhinged as I feel, because the husband gently pushes his wife behind him as they eye me warily.
Control yourself.
Anger, irritation, and frustration are the negative emotions that will only push Paul further away from you.
Be his air, be his peace, be his solace.
You need to get back to where you were—those sweet whispered promises of forever, of love, of that escape that only I could provide.
The stress-free life that Sophie couldn't give him after the cancer diagnosis.
I need to get Paul back to where he was before he started slipping away.
Not that he's been particularly present or engaged these last few weeks.
If we're being honest, I've felt a distance growing between us, which I had assured myself I could easily fill. But it’s been there since the first night he came to the apartment, the night he told Sophie, and the night his mother kicked him out.
He looked like a broken little boy crying that his mother said she was disappointed.
She would learn. She would grow to love me. They all would.
That night, he was almost feral in his want and need for me, and I thought I had him.
The time we spent together was mostly spent having sex. Paul's been insatiable lately. I've always enjoyed sex, but he seems to be trying to bury sad thoughts in my pussy. Honestly, I'm sick of it.
Not that I was all that interested in what he had to say, either.
Paul wasn't completely dull, but his desires and dreams didn't align completely with mine.
Yet. He wanted his family and to stay in this town, where he would reign as King forever.
I'd work on that. I could convince him otherwise. I just had to have him again.
"I'm worried about you, baby," I coo into the phone, lowering my voice and making it a little breathy the way I know he likes.
My skin prickles as my mother's cackles fill my mind, telling me I'm not good enough to keep a man. She snared my father and kept him for years, and he had power and money. What does it say about me that I can't even keep Paul interested?
Pathetic. Weak. Useless.
I grit my teeth hard enough to crack my veneers as I storm over to my BMW. I had been saving on gas by having Paul drive me around town to work and our dates, so my car has just been collecting more and more seagull shit as it sits in the guest parking lot.
I take another shaky breath and add a quiver to my voice. "Please, call me back. Let me know that you're okay."
Shoving the boxes into the backseat of my car, I plop down into the driver's seat and slam the door closed.
And I scream.
My frustration spills out of me. And I scream and scream and scream, trying to drown out my mother laughing at me in my head, my father telling me I'm his greatest failure, and the fact that I think they're both right.
Paul will call, I assure myself, once he’s calmed down.
My throat feels raw, my head heavy, and my body aches.
Paul will call me back. He needs me. Right now, he has nothing, nowhere to go, and no job for the next couple of months.
This is just a road bump. The universe is testing me to see how badly I want it.
He will call.
◆◆◆
"Paul, where are you? This is ridiculous, I won't be ignored!"
"Please call me back, I'm getting really worried about you. This isn't fair."
"You're breaking my heart!"
That last one is a little desperate, but I'm running out of options.
I pace back and forth in my hotel room, growing more and more agitated as Paul ignores my calls. It's been complete silence from him for two weeks, and it's not like I can go around asking anyone if they know where he is.
Nothing is going my way, and the lack of control is making me crazy.
I'm in PR. I control the narrative and can spin anything my way with ease.
Apparently, I can't do that with the people of Starling Cove.
These people are annoyingly principled. I haven't grown used to it.
When I started at City Hall, they liked my ideas and my big-city mind.
I led successful projects and basked in their praise.
I took their kind words and made a feast from them.
With the way they're treating me now, I might as well stitch a scarlet A on all of my clothes. It was just an affair! It's not like I committed murder. It's not like I personally committed treason.
Hypocritical morons.
Sophie has cancer. Who fucking cares? People get cancer and die every day. What makes her so special that it caused this shunning of me? I'm sure she's going around crying and telling people I ruined her life. Whatever.
If she wanted Paul, she should have fought harder to keep him. I wouldn't let something like cancer stand in the way of what I want.
Sophie wouldn't last five minutes in my shoes, with what I've gone through.
Because she's weak.
And so are the people in this town.
The people stare at me like I'm a sideshow freak. His friends judged me before even getting to know me. I still want to get that bitch Maude back for that night.
But first, I need control.
I was determined to show him he didn't need them. He needed only me. Fuck their opinions. I could spin this into a Romeo and Juliet story, with forbidden love at its juiciest. I could spin this to my favor. I know I could.
These people in this town are weak and small-minded.
I feel myself slipping back to where I was before I walked into this god-awful town, and I'd rather die than go back to that.
Broke. Jobless. Homeless. Alone.
Come on, Elise. What's the plan? What are we doing?
I feel a tug at the back of my neck, the clasp of the necklace I made Paul buy me caught in my hair.
Frustrated, I yank and snap the golden chain.
I look down at the heart-shaped jewelry, grimace, then toss it, not even caring where it lands in the room.
Piece of shit gold, anyway. I didn't really want it.
I just wanted to test Paul, to see what I could make him buy.
This was small and easy, and he bought it for me without a second thought.
After passing the test, I gave him a little reward.
That's how this relationship was supposed to go.
...
When I finally track down Paul, it's completely coincidental.
I've been going out of my mind, endlessly walking around this goddamn town from sunup to sundown, trying to catch sight of a blonde head of hair, and I finally see him at the grocery store.
I've been pinching pennies the last few weeks to pay for the modestly nice hotel I've been staying at, not one of those no-tell motels.
I would rather die. I became desperate enough to open up yet another credit card to pay for food and my accommodations.
They only approved me for a very small limit, so I walked into the grocery store looking for cheap and easy meals I could put together in a hotel.
I wince when I catch my reflection in the glass doors.
The woman looking back at me looks cheap, sloppy, and run-down.
Fuck, I'm starting to look like my mother.
The red polish on my nails is chipped and grown out, and my skin is dry and flaky.
My brows are overgrown. My makeup is quickly running out.
My clothes smell from having to wash them in hotel tubs.
I've canceled my gym membership, my pilates passes, my monthly spa packages—every bit of self-maintenance I once took for granted.
I'm so lost in my thoughts that I almost walk right by him.
Then I do a double-take and see his blonde head of hair.
He's dressed in the familiar Patriots hoodie—the same one he told me I looked incredibly sexy in with nothing underneath.
He's walking toward the exit as I'm walking in, and I stop in my tracks.
"Paul!" I hiss, not wanting to draw too much attention.
I stomp over, the click of my heels on the floor catching his attention.
He tenses as he turns to face me, and I see a resigned sigh escape his lips, and it just pisses me off more.
I fold my arms and stare at him. He's been avoiding me—his girlfriend—for weeks, and thinks he can be annoyed with me? "Oh, hello, Paul, remember me?"
"Elise," he says, glancing over his shoulder like he's looking for someone. "I... I was going to reach out—"
"Don't you fucking lie to me!" I snarl at him, and he doesn't even have the balls to look chagrined.
"I needed space, I needed some time to think."
"Think about what?" I demand, crossing my arms. "If you needed to talk, you could have talked to me. You just walked out!"
"Paul," a stern sounding voice calls from my left, and I see an older redheaded woman storming over to us. I recognize her immediately from social media pictures on Paul’s page.
Donna O'Connor, Paul's mother.
"You must be Mrs. O'Connor," I smile, dialing the charm up. An opening, a way in. He always said she was so kind and caring, a great mother. She'll love me, I'll make her love me. "It's so ni—"
"—and you must be the worst mistake my son's ever made," she cuts me off, mocking smile on her face. "Elise, isn't it?"
Your mother is my greatest mistake...
My mouth opens to say something, anything to defend myself, but she just turns her blazing eyes on her son. "I thought you said this was done. For good."
"It is," he nods, sounding so damn sure that it makes my mouth drop open. This is news to me. His mother just looks back and forth between us, her glare becoming more and more icy.
"Paul Francis, I swear to Christ if you've been lying to me."