Chapter 19 #2
I’m too emotionally spent to try and decipher his motives. Game or no game, I just want to get through this birthday without shedding a bucket of tears or being totally alone. If Dayton is my only option, I guess I’ll take it.
I reach for the mimosa, my fingers brushing his briefly.
He opens the door for me. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore reaches my ears when I walk out, heading toward the beach.
Dayton follows, and we continue walking once we reach the sand.
The sky holds a few white clouds, but the beach stretches out ahead of us, empty.
It’s still too early for people to be out. I shiver, the cool breeze coating my exposed arms and legs.
“How did you usually spend your holidays and birthdays with them?” I ask.
Dayton and I would trade off every other holiday here, like divorced parents with split custody, only it was us sharing custody of them. My mom hated it, but she finally got used to it after the first few years. It started with Dayton being busy with work and unable to make the trip from New York.
Then I met Andrew, and I would spend every other Christmas or Thanksgiving with him and his family. After the routine started, going home with Sav or Axel was just easier than facing Dayton. It was this unspoken thing between us. We never even established it verbally with each other.
“I never saw them on my birthday. On Christmas, Dad would make gingerbread cinnamon rolls and mimosas. Clara would put on the Charlie Brown Christmas cartoon and say she was just getting the routine ready for grandbabies.”
A tear rolls down my cheek, even as a smile lifts the corner of my mouth. “They did the same thing with me.”
“Then we’d open presents. I would get the update on everything happening in your life. Clara would flip through photos you had sent her.”
I pause mid-sip to stare at his profile. “She would tell you about what was going on with me?”
He nods. His dark hair is growing out, the curls looking soft and touchable. I study the side of his handsome face, seeing the notes of sadness there in his lowered eyes.
“They didn’t update you about me?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t ask.”
He smiles. “I guess they knew you didn’t really give a shit.”
Guilt pangs my gut. He’s not wrong, but now that they’re gone and it’s just us, I can’t help but wonder if I should’ve buried the hatchet so that my mom could see me every Christmas instead of only half of them.
“I just … I mean, you hated me. You bullied me. Why would I want an update on someone like that?”
He studies the sand for a few steps before answering, “I was childish. I didn’t know how to handle—didn’t know how to process you being there.”
I tip the mimosa back over my lips before turning back to head home. “I was pissed about moving here, too, leaving my life behind. You act like I had a choice in it.”
“You didn’t. I know that.”
I throw up my hands. “Then what excuse do you have? You made my life miserable in high school. After prom, no one wanted to date me. I was labeled an outcast because of you and Aurelia. You treated me like a leper, and everyone was afraid of you in school.”
“No one bullied you. No one called you names or ever laid a hand on you. I made sure of it.”
I stop dead in my tracks, blinking at him.
He’s right; no one really messed with me at all, which stung almost as much as being actively hated by him did.
Making friends was impossible. Some girls were nice to me, like Mia and Juniper and Josie, but they were already a close friend group when I moved here.
I was shy, and after prom, I kept to myself.
“Well, still, it was so isolating.” I continue walking.
He falls into step beside me. We’re silent for the next few minutes, listening to the waves and the rustling of the palm trees.
Once the house is in sight, he clears his throat. “About this morning, I—”
I cut him off, grabbing his arm to stop him.
It’s warm under my touch, and I don’t let go as I look up into his eyes.
“I don’t want to talk about it. Just don’t touch me again, and we can try to pretend like we don’t have the most fucked-up relationship on the planet.
Our parents are dead, but it doesn’t mean we have to stop living.
I need you to just be a somewhat-decent human being for this one day.
Just this one day. Don’t tease me and play your stupid games, don’t fuck with my head, don’t make suggestive comments or tell me my ex-husband cheated on me because I’m not sexy enough or because I must be boring in bed.
If you could just make that my only birthday gift, I’d be eternally grateful. ”
His jaw clenches. He reaches up to rub a hand over the stubble of his jaw—it is so fucking sexy when he goes a couple of days without shaving. His amber eyes spark with something like anger or annoyance before he finally nods.
“All right, Cupcake, just for today.”
I roll my eyes, finally letting him go while I keep walking. “And if you’re feeling super generous, you could call me by my actual name for once or at least tell me the real reason why you’ve called me Cupcake for thirteen years.”
He chuckles behind me, sending a shiver up my spine with the gritty sound. “Why do you think I call you that?”
I toss him an annoyed look. “I don’t want to say it, but I know it’s not nice. We agreed on a truce.”
He nods. “You’re right. So, I guess we’ll have to talk about it another day.”
I knew it wasn’t nice.