Chapter Three Violet
Chapter Three
Violet
Leah steps around me, struggling to get her clothes on and acting like I’m going to punch her in the nose if she gets too close.
I’d love to, trust me, but I don’t think showing up to the Olympics in handcuffs would be good for my reputation.
Her auburn hair is wrecked, her pink lipstick is smeared, and her dark eye makeup is running down her cheeks from the tears that have been spilling since I walked through the door.
She’s whispering empty apologies as she makes her way to the front of the house, and I watch as Theo stands tall in front of me, not bothering to cover himself up. It’s like he’s ready to take whatever I’m about to throw at him.
My hand slips into my jacket and palms my worry stone, rubbing it like a fucking genie is going to pop out.
The click of the door behind me is like the fuse of a bomb running out, and I lay into the sleaze standing in front of me.
“What the actual fuck, Theo?” I snap.
He closes his eyes, like he’s expecting me to get physical.
I’d love to come at him with a fist, but right now I’m just trying to remember how words work.
I’ve never really been one for confrontation or violence.
I can’t even kill a spider, even though they scare the shit out of me.
But the rage bubbling up inside me has me wanting to run him over with my car.
“It just happened.” He shrugs as his hazel eyes meet mine. They’re red, but not from crying. It’s most likely from lack of sleep. “It’s not like it was planned or anything.”
My jaw practically falls open. “You mean to tell me this was an accident?”
He stares at me as if I hit the nail on the head.
“She didn’t slip and fall onto your dick, Theo. It’s not big enough to catch her.”
His blond eyebrows dart upward, and I can’t believe I just said that. It was honestly so badass, even for me, and yet I feel like it wasn’t a big enough burn to portray my feelings right now.
“You’re being ridiculous, Vi.” He rolls his eyes and looks down at his feet like it’ll all go away if he doesn’t make eye contact.
I don’t even know what to say in a moment like this. You read about it in books, and you see it in movies, but living it is a whole other experience. It’s like your brain is trying to think of everything and nothing all at the same time.
My eyes shift toward the end table that sits beside the couch. The picture of Theo and me in front of Broadway when we went to see Moulin Rouge! The Musical, three years ago, is now face down. As if hiding our faces is the equivalent of pausing our relationship.
Did he do that, or did Leah? Was she too afraid to ride my boyfriend with my eyes burning holes into her?
“It’s not like we’re happy,” are the next words that fall from his mouth.
The shock of what he’s saying has me taking two steps forward, even though I have no actual plan in mind. With my advance, he takes two steps back, scratching at his hip like he needs something to do with his hands.
“Excuse me?” My voice comes out as a croak, and I narrow my eyes at him as if he’s speaking in another language that I can’t quite translate.
“We aren’t happy? We just bought a house together, Theo!
” My hands dart out and gesture to the room we’re standing in like I’m trying to remind him of the debt we now share.
“We’re talking about starting a family soon.
I wouldn’t be part of those conversations if I didn’t think we were happy. ”
My voice is shrill, and I swear only dogs can understand what I’m saying right now.
“And with my cousin?”
Apparently, I wasn’t done squeaking.
“You’re never home!” The volume of his accusation has me freezing in place.
He’s the one who is always practicing at the rink or hanging out with his friends. Though now I’m not sure how many of those friend nights didn’t involve Leah.
His hands finally move from his sides, and he runs them through his dirty blond hair.
Hair that, at one point, I thought was one of the sexiest parts of him.
He takes care of it, putting in effort with product after product.
I thought any man who can take care of hair like that can definitely take care of a woman.
Wrong-o.
He’s staring at me like he’s waiting for me to pick a fight with him.
To argue with him that I’m always home, so he can get in another jab and bring up the secrets I keep.
I’m not even sure what I can say. He’s going to dismiss everything I throw at him because it’s his only tactic left after getting caught.
Before I know it, I hear myself speak.
“I’m home now.” My voice falls as though it’s a lost battle.
My entire life is changing in a matter of minutes, and I’m not even sure I fully understand the severity of the situation.
He blows air through his teeth as if I’ve now offended him. “You’re home early.”
“So, it’s my fault that you got caught cheating on me?” I laugh, and he starts to say something, but the growing volume of my laughter cuts him off.
It’s my fault he cheated on me.
It’s my fault I caught him cheating on me.
It was my fault that he didn’t fill up his truck, and it ran out of gas the next morning. Then I had to go pick him up.
It was my fault that we were late for Thanksgiving dinner with his team because I didn’t tell him to get ready.
It’s always my fault.
How did I not see this?
My laughter continues for another ten or fifteen seconds, and it’s not even a small chuckle or even a mid-volume giggle. It’s full-blown, clapping seal, grunting walrus-style laughter.
Theo almost looks afraid. Like I’ve gone completely psycho. I’m not convinced I haven’t. Sleep with one eye open, kid. Ya know?
“You cheating on me had nothing to do with me,” I finally manage to say, wiping a tear from my eye. “You cheated on me because you got scared.”
Aside from his hockey career, he’s never been able to commit to anything. Not a pair of shoes, a new phone, and apparently not even a relationship.
His lips thin like he doesn’t need to explain himself.
Maybe this is something we should talk about. Maybe we can salvage this with open communication.
No. Stop it, Violet. He cheated on you with your cousin. And ruined your favorite Little Mermaid pillow. You do NOT fix anything with him.
“You don’t get to live a double life forever, you know.” He’s looking at me like those creepy dolls in horror movies look at the camera. Like there’s more he wants to say, but instead leaves his unspoken words to linger between us.
“Are you threatening me?” I can’t be sure, but I don’t think he would go so far as to break the NDA. Would he really risk his hockey career to ruin everything for me?
“You know why I can’t tell anyone who I am.” I swallow the lump in my throat and wait for him to make his point. He knew everything that came with dating me.
Or did he only stick around because he felt stuck?
“I don’t have time for this. I’m leaving for Milan tomorrow morning.” His chin juts upward like he’s above me. Like I’m just some puck bunny that fawns over famous hockey players.
I tuck my tongue into my cheek, trying not to find amusement in his attempt at having the upper hand.
Psychotic laughter, coming in hot.
I keep it at bay, but don’t break eye contact. My mind is racing with the thought of the upcoming Olympics. Warning bells ringing through my nervous system, screaming, “DANGER! DANGER!”
I forgot about one minor detail. Maybe I can blame the chaos of the concert, or the fact that my boyfriend was fucking my blood relative right in front of my eyes.
Regardless, the reminder is here now, and it’s flashing at the forefront of my skull. I know he is going to Milan, and I know I am too. We both have jobs to do while we’re there, though on very different scales.
One of the biggest days of my life is dangling in front of me on a very thin strand.
“I know you are going to the Olympics.” I fidget with the string on my hoodie, keeping my eyes on his. I need him to think I’m not bothered at all by the arrangements we’ve made for this trip. “But you forget I am too.”
The gears in his head seem to be cranking because I watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. I don’t have to say the words out loud for him to understand that it’s going to be a long flight.
Two tickets. Two passengers.
Both seated together for an eight-hour flight.
“And then he just stormed out?” Cassie is stuffing popcorn into her mouth like she’s watching a chick-flick marathon.
She’s wearing the perfect outfit for it, with leggings and an oversized Victoria’s Secret shirt.
Her dark hair is in braided pigtails that fall over her shoulders, and her makeup is so perfectly done that it looks like she’s not wearing any.
“Pretty much.”
We watch the two guys I hired to throw away my couch as they maneuver it in all different directions to shove it through the front door.
With each thrust, the walls shake, causing the pictures of my past to settle unevenly. Theo and I at his best friend’s wedding. Theo and I with my mom at Christmas. Theo and I standing in front of the Grand Tetons.
“Don’t worry about breaking it,” Cassie yells to the guys as they continue to use force. “The thing needs to be burned. Possibly a seance. Maybe a—”
“Would you shut up?” I punch her in the arm with one hand and use my free hand to wave off the weird looks we’re getting from Tom and Tony? Tim and Tony? Tim and Jim? The wine is making me feel better about my situation, but unfortunately, it’s erasing any possibility of remembering names.
“Stop stressing over the asshole.” Cassie doesn’t take her eyes off the hunk of meat holding up one end of the couch.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” she argues and rolls her eyes. “You caught your boyfriend in bed with your cousin.”
Man Meat’s eyes grow wide, and he almost drops the couch as his gaze meets mine. His eyes filled with a combination of surprise and sympathy.
Awesome.
“Sorry,” Cassie whispers, taking a sip of her wine. “But it’s true. You’re not fine.”