9. She didn’t say, “It’s easier to be angry than hurt.”
9
She didn’t say, “It’s easier to be angry than hurt.”
Eden
Just my luck.
I’d grabbed the shopping cart with the wobbly wheel. My hands rumbled under the cart’s red handle like I was holding onto the world’s most boring rollercoaster, and the annoying clackety-clack announced my arrival down every aisle.
Heads turned. Strangers stared like startled cats.
Fan-freaking-tastic.
I wasn’t shy. I loved the limelight. But who’d want an audience as they grabbed tampons off the shelf in aisle four? No one. Not even a D-lister craved that kind of attention. I tossed the box in the cart, kicked the wheel into gear, and pushed on.
This was all Andie’s fault. I could’ve avoided my late-night excursion to the supermarket if she’d stocked her fridge like a normal person.
My best friend was a riddle. She was a talented barber and a budding mechanic. She’d even renovated her terrace into an edgy show home after only watching a few video tutorials. The fact that the same set of hands capable of so much had once set a bowl of mac and cheese on fire in the microwave defied belief. Being that bad at cooking was truly a talent .
Andie’s unique talent also meant she’d made it to her thirties surviving off an empty fridge and hideous drinks she tried to pass off as shakes . Sorry, no. Scoops of powder shaken with water that smelled worse than a cat’s butt weren’t on any food pyramid I’d ever seen.
As much as I loved her, five days of camping out on Andie’s sofa was my limit. I couldn’t soar through life if I was hobbling around using my best friend as an emotional crutch. Life needed to start again. Big changes needed to be celebrated—and with tastier snacks than the limp carrot and mouldy wedge of cheese in the back of Andie’s fridge.
And I had a lot to celebrate.
Keys jingled in my handbag as the shopping cart bumped along. I smiled. The paperwork for my new place at The Rocks was rolled up in there, too. The apartment was too modern, too much like Zach’s, but securing a lease was another step in the right direction . The familiar soap and cologne of the man who’d forgotten me wouldn’t be lingering on brand-new pillows or unboxed sheets. I had my own big bed again. I had a fridge to fill. Tonight, Andie’s. Tomorrow, my own.
The cart’s wonky wheel clackety-clacked as I headed down the next aisle. The wheel jammed.
“Stupid fu—”
I shoved the cart, but it stalled in protest. Aisle five was officially the end of the line.
“Great.” Another push, but the cart didn’t budge. “Just great. ”
“Eden?”
My gaze snapped up.
I knew that voice. I expected the dark eyes behind black-rimmed glasses to stare back at me, but I still wasn’t prepared. Butterflies battered my stomach. Zach was perfectly polished in his suit, his hair combed back, and his tie knotted just so . His sweet, uncertain smile was the same, too. The only difference was the betrayal stinging in my chest.
I wasn’t ready to see him. Not yet. It was too soon.
I took a step back.
Zach lowered his grocery basket to the floor. “Eden.” He raised his palms, creeping forward like he was trying not to spook me.
Too late.
I spun around. Four-inch stilettos wouldn’t stop me. I forgot the shopping cart, abandoning it in the middle of the aisle. My eyes frantically searched for an exit to avoid confronting the boot stomping on the little bug of my dreams again.
“Eden! Wait!” Zach’s footsteps followed. “You forgot your bag!”
Hesitating, I glanced over my shoulder. Zach had scooped my handbag out of the shopping cart. The strap swung from his outstretched hand, but he stood there, frozen, waiting for me to make the next move.
I stalked down the aisle and snatched my bag. “Aren’t you supposed to be chained to your desk?” I snapped.
No ‘hello.’ No ‘how are you?’ Right into battle. And Zach didn’t know what hit him.
“I, um…” he stammered to an awkward stop. I used to think that was adorable. Not tonight.
My eyes narrowed on the basket he’d dropped by his feet. A tub of chocolate ice cream, fancy tea bags, crackers, and a pot of smoked salmon dip I could’ve eaten by the truckload—and had done exactly that the day before my period had started. Zach didn’t eat a thing in the basket. Begrudgingly, he might drink a cup of tea. Were these treats for his secret office viper? Was he planning to spoil her after she’d dug her fangs into him again?
Zach noticed my eyes on his groceries and rubbed the back of his neck. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” he said. “I was going to drop a basket by your salon tomorrow morning.”
“Wha—what?”
“You always said gifts are better in a basket. I wanted to have a go at making one with a few of your favourite snacks to, um, you know…” He shrugged. “Make your day better.”
Hope tickled my aching ribs. Zach was finally acknowledging me. Trying . But was this how desperate I’d become? Settling for snacks? Screw that. Screw him.
Defiant, I lifted my chin. “That’s the best you can do?”
He winced. “I deserve that.”
“You deserve a good kick in the balls.”
“The roses?” His Adam’s apple bobbed on a nervous swallow. “I remembered you have allergies. It hit me around four o’clock this morning.” To the flecked-concrete floor, he muttered, “Sorry.”
The floor got his apology? The audacity of this man! “The flowers are a symptom of a bigger issue, don’t you think?”
“Michaela?”
“Getting warmer.” I huffed a laugh. “I bet she was ecstatic when you told her I’d moved out.” Little homewrecker.
“Oh, uh…”
I stared at him, my jaw somewhere on the floor with his half-arsed apology. “You told Michaela I moved out, right?” Dread crept over me, tossing me back in the shadows outside his office, remembering how he’d shoved his phone across the desk. Out of sight, out of mind. “She knows about me…right?”
Zach’s lips flattened. Whatever he was about to say, he didn’t want to say it. “Eden, you need to understand. My boss has drilled into me—God, everyone at Worley—personal lives don’t exist—”
“I don’t exist? You haven’t told anyone at your work about me? Like I’m—” A strangled sob threatened to choke my words. “I’m nothing?”
“No, of course not. You’re my universe, Denny Dee.”
“Except for work. Except for the fact you don’t know anything about me!” My chin wobbled, devastation crawling up my neck in a hot flush. I clenched my fist to fight the tears. “You didn’t even remember I own my salon! Strangers queue up around the block just to get a photo of it…and you forgot about it…like…it didn’t matter at all!”
Zach’s fingers speared through his hair, his shoulders slumping under the weight of realising what he’d done—or not done.
“I came from nothing,” I shot at him. “I had no one on my team except Andie. I’m so proud of what I’ve achieved, and you stand there and reduce it to nothing…because you think I’m…” I gulped. “You think I’m nothing. You said I was no one. ” Just like my father. “Even though I gave you everything.”
The pain softening his dark eyes hardened. “Did you?” The words were ice.
“You know I did.”
“You never even bothered to unpack!”
“I—I was busy.”
“Bullshit, Eden. Bull. Shit.” His words, spoken so calmly, were brittle. “You’ve had one foot out my door since you moved in. You were just waiting for an excuse to leave.” His eyes widened, almost like he was shocked the accusation had spewed out.
But he was right, wasn’t he?
He’d seen more than I’d realised. He’d peeked through the cracks in my dazzling smiles to see the lost girl underneath, but he’d said nothing. Not a word.
Was that how little he cared?
Or was that how much he cared?
My spine didn’t want to hold me up anymore. I wanted to collapse, curl into a ball on the supermarket floor, and for Zach to drop beside me. I wanted his arms around me. I needed him to promise he’d erase all the nights I’d spent alone before him…and with him.
That thought kept me upright.
The nights alone.
The nights he’d forgotten me. No messages. The occasional bunch of flowers or mumbled apologies about how he’d try harder but never did.
Maybe Zach was a good man in some ways, but I was nothing to him.
“I didn’t need any excuses,” I snapped. “You gave me a hundred reasons to leave you. See this?” I dug the rental paperwork out of my handbag and shoved it in his face. “Now, I’ve got both feet out the door. And I’m never coming back!”
It was so much easier to be angry than hurt.
It was so much easier to walk away than stay.