Chapter 23
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
ELODIE
Pacing around my studio, I think about going over to Alex’s to talk to him. He’s not happy with me, not even a little bit. He’s so unhappy that I’m wondering if he’ll even come to work on Monday. I need him to help me.
I can’t do it all on my own.
I know I did something dumb, but that’s on me—except the part that isn’t: the pictures and explaining the layout of that event center. That isn’t all on me, because I can’t imagine they wanted to know because they’re going to throw a party there.
My heart races as I think about what it all means, or rather, what it could mean.
I’m not someone who takes chances, at least when it comes to my personal life.
Apparently, something has shifted inside me, and I’m all about chances.
Like jumping off a cliff, eyes closed, headfirst for whatever reason.
Pressing my lips together, I roll them a few times as I think about what to do. When I drove us home, Alex didn’t say a word to me. We walked up the stairs to our apartments in silence, and then he marched straight to his place, again, in silence.
I’ve changed my clothes, cleaned up a bit, and eaten something, hoping he’ll make his way over. I can’t remember the last time he was this pissed off at me. I don’t know if he has ever been.
Lifting my hand to my mouth, I tap my fingers against my bottom lip, trying to decide if I should be the one to make the first move, if I should apologize.
I got him into whatever this is, with the idea that the money would be worth it all.
That we could do this for a year and come out of it unscathed.
We’re not even a month in, and I have a feeling we are indeed scathed.
The afternoon turns into evening, and neither of us makes a single move toward one another. I stay in my place, the television on low as I listen for his door to open and close, but it doesn’t.
I end up falling asleep watching one of those dubbed-over series from another country, I’m not even sure which one, but it’s all about fake dating profiles, cheating scandals, an exotic showgirl, and sex.
A lot of sex. But my eyelids become heavy, and eventually, I pass out, all the while listening for any signs of Alex outside my studio. There is nothing.
When my eyelids flutter open on Sunday morning, I stretch and wince.
I can’t remember the last time I fell asleep on my little futon.
My bed is only a few feet away, so I usually can find the energy to drag myself over there, but last night was different.
I felt so beyond off, and that feeling hasn’t left me yet.
Picking up my phone from the small coffee table in front of me, I check to see if Alex has texted me. He hasn’t. Nobody has. For a dumbass reason, I’d hoped that Wrath would have contacted me, and it was a dumbass reason, because he did not, and I don’t think he will.
I have a feeling that I’m not just a novelty, but also, if I’m not right there in front of him, he’s going to forget about my existence, and that stings.
Pushing myself up to sitting, I force myself to stand and walk over to the coffee-making station. I frown at the sight, then shift my gaze over to the door, waiting for it to fly open and see Alex ready with his cup.
Instead of waiting any longer, I decide that enough is enough. I make us both a hot cup, prepping his the way I know he likes it, and then my own. I’m going to extend the olive branch. I am running a few minutes late; my previous meeting is running over.
Gathering both mugs in my hands, I walk toward the door.
It takes a bit of maneuvering, but eventually, I make my way toward his place and stop in front of his door.
I stand in front of the closed door and wonder if I should even bother knocking or try to figure out how to, when it swings wide open.
There, standing in front of me, is Alex. I can’t even say he seems pissed off, but he stares at me with a blank expression on his face. Holding up his cup of coffee, I extend it slightly toward him and give him a shaky smile.
“Peace?” I ask.
He grunts, reaching out to take the warm mug from my hand, but I don’t release the handle to him, at least not yet. Gripping it tighter, I wait for him to respond to me. Arching a brow, I press my lips together as I wait.
Alex lets out a heavy sigh, rolling his eyes to the ceiling, then shifts his attention back to meet mine before he narrows his gaze on me and finally speaks.
“I am pissed at you,” he snaps.
“No shit?” I ask.
He makes a noise in the back of his throat and shakes his head from side to side a couple of times before he continues. “You don’t get to be a smart-ass, not when you’re in the fucking wrong on all of this.”
I open my mouth to tell him I’m sorry, but he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, effectively shutting me up.
“Elodie,” he snaps, “not only are we all tangled up in this shit—something you said wasn’t going to happen and indeed did happen within two weeks—I still don’t know what they wanted with that information, and I don’t want to know.
But it can all come back to us, and mark my words, it fucking will,” he says.
I can tell that he’s not finished, so I just keep my lips closed and wait for his rant to continue, because he is on a roll.
“And then you went and fucked him. Did you know they’ve got a whole stable of women living there for just that purpose? So, think about that. I cannot believe you did that. He is not only scary, but he’s also a manwhore.”
Alex’s words slap me in the face. I can’t believe that he’s saying this to me. Alex, who has been known to have one-night stands left and right with men and women he’s met in bars, sometimes both at once. He’s going to stand in front of me and act like I did something I should be ashamed of.
Taking a step backward, I release my grasp on his coffee.
He brings it closer to his body, but doesn’t hide the confusion at my moving away from him.
I’m not going to stick around and explain myself to him, though, not about that.
There’s no way at this point he would understand just how Wrath made me feel, even if it was only for a fleeting moment.
“I think I’m going to spend the day at home. I’ll see you tomorrow morning for work.”
Turning away from him, I start to make my way back to my place.
He calls out my name once, twice, and by the third time, I can hear the panic in his voice as his tone shifts.
Then he shouts my name, almost shrilly, and I know someone is going to tell him to shut the fuck up, so I stop in front of my door, turn my head, and look back at him.
Our gazes connect, and for the first time in my life, I feel alone even with him this close to me. I feel like I should say something, but at the same time, I’m not sure I have anything much to add to this.
“You can’t get mad at me for being concerned.”
The punch to the gut just doubles in pain. “I’ve never said a bad word about any of the people you’ve brought home or gone home with or, hell, went to the public bathroom with at a bar. But you thought that you could say something about Wrath?”
“Elodie.”
“No,” I exhale. “Just no.”
I don’t add anything else. I don’t have anything to add.
Nothing that would be kind or contribute to the moment, so instead, I slip inside my apartment and lock my door.
He could use his key to come in, but he won’t.
I hear his own door click shut, and I decide today I’m going to clean my little place, maybe organize some things and purge some others.
It’s going to be a me day. I think I need that. Because Alex has me fucked up, and that doesn’t even get me started with how Wrath has me feeling.