Chapter 3 #2
I can read all the words he’s not saying in his tired expression. Memories of drawn-out arguments where we tried desperately to piece together something we’d already broken and didn’t know how to fix. Fresh pain I thought I’d buried.
But right now, I know what I need to say. So I take a deep breath, composing myself and trying to calm my racing heart—racing because I ran over here, obviously, not for any other reason.
“Our parents cannot date,” I say. And really, my voice sounds pretty good. Normal. I’m impressed.
Dom’s glittering eyes dull as his lips twist into a grimace. “I know,” he says. “I’ll figure something out.”
“Wait,” I say before he can roll the window back up. When he shoots me a questioning look, I go on. “Wait. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet,” he says. “I said I’ll figure it out.”
“No, wait—wait!” I say again as the window begins to inch up. “We can’t barge in.” I pause briefly. “I just meant we needed to keep an eye on things to make sure they fizzle on their own. It’s probably not very serious.”
“Alvina has a track record four marriage certificates long.”
“Yeah,” I say. “But your dad doesn’t, does he?” I pause. “I really think it will die down.”
“I bet it won’t,” Dom says flatly. “And why are you pulling back now? You were the one who said they couldn’t date.”
He’s not wrong, but it’s complicated. “Should we tell them we—”
“No.” He throws the word out, curt and firm.
“Your mother would lose her mind if she found out we dated, and my dad would want to know why I didn’t tell him before, and then I’d get flak for how everything went down.
” A muscle jumps in his jaw as he speaks.
“I’ve already disappointed him enough for one lifetime.
I don’t want to relive the whole thing.” He shoots me a look full of challenge. “Do you?”
My body sags. “No,” I admit softly.
The hard look in his eyes fades for a second, so briefly I might be imagining it. But then he clears his throat and faces forward once more. “We need to break them up. And it needs to be permanent so they won’t go back for round two later on. If we can get your mom to reveal her true colors—”
“Hey.” Hurt twists my insides—and, if I’m being honest, embarrassment.
I swallow past the emotions even as heat rises in my cheeks.
“It’s not—she isn’t—” But I break off as my explanation deserts me, partly because Dominic is right.
“She’s trying to be happy,” I finally say, but the words are halfhearted.
Dominic sighs. “Yeah. And she’ll be happy—for five minutes, and at the expense of everyone else.”
It hits me like a blow to the chest, but I don’t respond. I don’t know how.
When he sees I’m not going to say anything, Dom goes on, his voice gruff and reluctant. “Did she hurt you?”
“What?”
“She elbowed you pretty hard.” It sounds like he’s wrenching the words out with pliers now, and his expression is a mask of passivity. “Are you hurt?”
“Oh,” I say tiredly when I realize what he’s talking about. “It’s fine.”
When his brows twitch with skepticism, I go on. “It is,” I insist. “It really is. I’m used to it.”
“Good grief.” He exhales roughly, sliding one hand down his face as he stares out the windshield. “That’s worse, Berkeley.” Then he shakes his head. “I heard you were back in Autumn Ridge,” he finally says. “In your old house?”
“Yes.”
“With Alvina?”
“We’re sharing my old room.” The words are trembling and small, but I keep my head high anyway.
He’s quiet for a second. “Are you here permanently?”
I try not to wince at this. It’s not like I can blame him for asking. “Don’t worry,” I say lightly, although I’m not sure my tone lands. “I’ll only be here for six months.”
“Right,” he says on an exhale, his hand flexing on the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turn white. “Okay.” He looks at me, but the angle of the sun and his hat now makes it difficult to see his eyes.
I think I prefer it that way.
“Your dad seems—” I clear my throat. “He seems great. I think this will die on its own. But see if you can feel out how serious they are. I’ll do the same. If we need to, we can figure something else out.”
“Don’t bother,” he says, resigned. “I’ll do it.”
I shake my head. “If it comes to that, I’ll help.”
“You’re not going to break up Alvina’s relationship,” he says. “I’m not sure you could.”
“There’s no need to be rude,” I say, and once again, I keep my voice very light, very calm and normal like the grown woman I am. I give myself another mental pat on the back, even as that knot in my throat grows.
“Sorry,” he says grudgingly, holding up his hands like he’s backing off. “Sorry. But…” He shifts. “It’s true.”
“Just try to figure out how serious they are,” I say, and even though I’m not fighting back, my gaze on him is harder now. “This will die down on its own.” I pause. “But if it doesn’t, I’ll personally split them up. Me. Myself.”
I turn away and rub my back for effect—twenty-seven isn’t too young to get a sore back from standing around, is it?
—but really I just don’t want Dominic to see the tears I’m trying to hold in.
Then I point at the glove compartment, hoping I’m pointing in the right direction because I’m not even looking anymore.
“Pass me something to write with, please.”
He hesitates for only a second before I hear the sound of him reaching over to the compartment and pulling out the pad of paper and pencil I knew would be stashed there.
When he hands them out of the window to me, I make sure our hands don’t brush.
I scribble my number in shaky writing—I deleted his number years ago so I wouldn’t be tempted—and then drop them back to him.
“Give me yours,” I say, keeping my hand outstretched. It takes him a second, but then he passes a piece of paper to me, which I tuck in my pocket.
“I have to go,” I say, “but I have something I need to give you, so I’ll get in touch later.
Don’t ignore my text.” I try to say goodbye, but the word simply won’t come out.
It’s ash in my mouth. So I nod somewhere at the vicinity of the hood and then turn all the way around, my shoulders straight, my head held high.
I’m not my mother’s lap dog, whatever Dominic may think. It’s true that I have trouble setting boundaries with her—something that’s always bothered him—and that’s an area I’m working on.
But I can’t let her date Dominic’s father. I absolutely can’t. I won’t let her cross that line. So if I need to break them up, I’ll do it.
And you know what? I bet I could do it so subtly she would never know I was involved. I could keep her from hating me forever—because it takes very little to get on Alvina’s bad side—and simultaneously avoid becoming the stepsibling to my ex-boyfriend.
Win-win.
I cross the parking lot on wobbly legs, my mind racing, and when I collapse in my car, I vow to throw away every tube of non-waterproof mascara I own.