~ 5 ~
FALLON
The house looked absurdly strange, now that it was no longer my home. Sitting out front, idling for a good ten minutes, I stared intently at the front door. I thought it would be hard, working up the courage to go inside. But anger took the place of courage, and anger was much more useful.
“To hell with this.”
Adding to my anger was the fact that I’d slept through movie night, and well into the ass-end of this morning. I’d missed an important veterinary anesthesia and surgery seminar. I could watch a video of the class online, without penalty, but it wasn’t like me to turn off my alarm.
At least I slept well, though. And that, I definitely needed.
I stormed up the walkway and straight through the front door, which was partly open. Blaine was exactly where I expected him to be, halfway through his usual morning routine. I found him sitting at the kitchen table, legs crossed, reading the Times on his tablet while drinking black coffee and eating avocado toast.
The bastard didn’t even look surprised to see me.
“Fallon.”
My ex-boyfriend barely looked up as I stood in the doorway. He removed his glasses, then pinched the bridge of his nose and blinked.
“I’m here for the rest of my stuff,” I told him coldly.
He considered me for a moment, then nodded as if he found my request reasonable.
“Alright.”
I stormed down a hallway that seemed completely foreign now, into a bedroom that was no longer mine. The photos of us that lined the walls had already been taken down. I expected that. Blaine was nothing if not efficient, and annoyingly utilitarian as a human being. If there wasn’t a proper place for something, he boxed it up or discarded it almost immediately. As far as any physical memories or recollections of our relationship was concerned, either of those choices was fine by me.
I paused for a moment at the bedroom, thoroughly creeped out at the thought of going inside. But Blaine was in the kitchen, reading the Times. He’d be there for exactly twenty-five minutes, before showering, dressing, and going about the rest of his day.
I expected to see my stuff all boxed up, and of course it was. What I didn’t expect upon opening the door however, was the presence of his new girlfriend. Bailey was standing over the bed, folding clothes into neat piles. She yelped out loud when I burst inside.
“Oh, Fallon!” she gasped, clutching her chest. “It’s just you.”
“Yeah,” I sneered. “It’s just me.”
She turned and continued folding, as casually as if I were there to drop off the dry-cleaning. It occurred to me that if I were a normal woman, I’d be raining down blows on this bitch already. So either she was oblivious, or stupid, or possibly both.
“You startled me.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’d say you startled me by pretty much sliding into my skin over here, in no time flat. But after thinking it over, I’m really not surprised at all.”
Physically, Bailey was the complete antithesis of me. She had jet black hair, olive skin, and ruby red lips. She wore too much makeup, but Blaine would take care of that problem quickly enough. Either he’d throw out her lipstick, like he did when I first moved in, or he’d drop enough snide comments that he’d shame her into throwing it out herself.
As I stomped past her and into the master bath, I shook my head.
“You’re folding those towels wrong by the way,” I told her.
“Wait, what?” She sounded genuinely concerned. “Why?”
“Because you’re folding them sideways.”
The tiny brunette looked back at her work and shrugged. “What’s the difference?”
“If they’re not the long way, they’re the wrong way.” I chuckled. “Blaine’s words, not mine.”
In the bathroom I found another box, this one containing my toiletries. My shampoos, conditioners, moisturizers; they were all tucked neatly away, along with my prized possession: my Dyson supersonic hairdryer.
“Fallon…” Bailey’s voice was softer now, even condescending. The infuriating part was she wasn’t trying to be condescending, she was actually trying to be nice. “I just wanted to say—”
“You’ll find a bunch of batteries in that bottom drawer,” I pointed, cutting her off. “And trust me, you’ll need them. I’d give you my vibrators too, but they’re long gone. Dickhead throws them out as he finds them. I guess he feels threatened. Come to think of it, he probably should.”
“I… I don’t want—”
“You’d better hurry,” I said, nodding in the direction of the kitchen. “If his second round of avocado toast isn’t ready at the same time as his next cup of coffee, it’ll be your ass.”
She looked confused. “My ass?”
“Oh yeah,” I laughed.
Back down the hallway I went, now carrying two full boxes of my stuff. The sum total of three years’ worth of wasted time, energy, and effort. I felt weighed down by dejection and loss. But also, more angry than ever.
“So… you got everything?”
Blaine was standing in the hallway, still in his bathrobe. The nonchalant and noisy way he sipped at his coffee made me want to punch him in the face.
“Everything but the last three years of my life back,” I snapped.
“You’ll be okay,” he said placatingly. “You’re one of the most headstrong people I know, Fallon. Sometimes too headstrong, if we’re being honest.”
“Oh?” I scoffed. “Is that why there’s another woman in what used to be our bedroom?”
He shrugged. “One of the reasons, yeah.”
My whole body began shaking with rage. I wanted to scream at him. Laugh at him. I wanted to drop kick this self-righteous dickhead through the archway and back into the kitchen.
Instead, I set the boxes down and folded my arms across my chest.
“Alright. Let’s hear the other ones.”
Blaine tugged at his earlobe and let out a sigh. His expression turned strange, like he was about to say something that no one wanted to hear.
“Go on,” I prompted him. “I’d love to know how someone like you thinks a girlfriend like me is—”
“You’re too plain.”
He couldn’t have said anything more shocking, or offensive. The words left me utterly dumbstruck.
“Plain?”
“Yes, plain,” he repeated. “Ordinary. Boring. Sexually vanilla.”
Thoughts swirled through my head like a tornado, ripping up memories from my past. This man had stamped out every reckless impulse I’d ever had. He’d crushed my confidence, destroyed my spontaneity, and taken a wrecking ball to my dreams. Every time I’d done something rash, or unpredictable, or even the slightest bit interesting, he’d shaken his head in disgust. Blaine had spent years shaving down what he considered to be my rough edges, molding me into a ‘proper lady.’ One who might ultimately, some day down the line, be worthy of his noble surname.
And now he’d called me boring.
“I’m boring? ” I seethed, my anger rising. “I’m ordinary?”
He took a sip of his coffee and shrugged.
“I’m sexually VANILLA?” I yelled, screaming at the top of my lungs. “After all those things I wanted to try, and YOU were the one who said—”
“Fallon, save it,” he cut me off with the wave of his soft, well-manicured hand. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
My brain exploded. Long years of pent-up rage and indignation threatened to rush out all at once, like a broken dam, finally giving way. This was the mother of all lies; the ultimate betrayal. And though Blaine already knew none of what he was saying was true, his expression was still righteously impassive. In his heart of hearts, I knew he’d actually convinced himself it was.
I couldn’t respond, because there was no response. Instead, I reached down, picked up my boxes, and stomped off.
“Goodbye, Blaine.”
This was, oddly enough, the worst possible thing I could’ve said. Because for one brief, glorious instant, I saw a glimmer of self-doubt blink its way across his otherwise smug face.
I passed the hallway on the way to the front door. Bailey was standing there fearfully, peeking out from the bedroom.
“Good luck with all that,” I jerked a quick thumb over my shoulder. “You’re gonna need it.”