Chapter One #3
God, I miss Mexico this time of year. The sun kissing my skin.
The warm sand. The ocean breeze that, compared to this frigid wind, doesn’t feel like it’s trying to exfoliate my face off.
And the cabana boys, especially the cabana boys, who made sure every single one of my needs, emotional or otherwise, was taken care of.
I miss all of it.
Ugh.
“Are you fixin’ to go to Callie’s event tonight?” Ainsley calls out from her parked car, jarring me from my inner turmoil and daydreams of yummy drinks with umbrellas in them, served by hand via coconut. “I could drive us there.”
It’s the first time she’s asked me to hang out outside of work, and a part of me wants to say yes.
If only to not be left alone for yet another night with no one to talk to and nothing to do.
But the idea of being surrounded by people who basically watched my life crash and burn?
Yeah... no. Not tonight. I’m too wrung out for that kind of emotional circus.
“I appreciate the invite, Ainsley, but I think I’ll sit this one out.”
She nods her head, a look on her face like she figured that would be my answer, and for some reason, it pisses me off.
I’m not angry with her, but with myself for being so damn unapproachable that good people assume I don’t want to hang out with them.
I’ve burned so many bridges over the years, not ever thinking I’d someday want to cross them.
Now here I am fighting my way upstream without a freakin’ paddle.
“But maybe,” I say softly, tripping over my words like I’m out of practice being gentle. I tuck a piece of my short, ash blonde hair behind my ear. “Maybe we could do something another time?”
Her smile is slow but bright. Even from across the street, her blue-green eyes light up.
“You betcha’,” she says.
“Tell Billy I said hi,” I tease as she gets into her car and stifles a laugh.
Billy is part of the crew she hangs out with.
He’s a volunteer firefighter and works at all the DuPonce establishments.
He’s been visiting the cafe more frequently and seems to have a thing for her.
From what I can tell, she keeps giving him the runaround, but he’s a persistent one.
The trek to my place is slightly uphill.
On its own, it’s not a problem, but after long days, my feet already hurt, my body is sore, and all I can think about is getting back to the duplex.
It didn’t matter when I still had my car, but even that became a casualty of the destruction my father left behind.
I parked it on the street one day during my shift, right in front of the big window, and watched helplessly as a tow truck hauled it away.
Every walk up this hill since then has hardened my resentment toward my father, but has also given me glutes to die for. Yay for silver linings...
Finally, taking a deep breath as I make it up my front porch, I step into my half of the duplex, making a mental note that my door still needs fixing. I set my jacket on my crooked coat hanger and laugh as it slowly topples over.
“Whatever.”
Leaving it there, I take in the mismatched furniture that was in place when I got here and all that I’ve collected from every free sale or throwaway I could find. It’s not much, but at least it’s mine, and no one can take it from me.
I was left with nothing but my bag full of clothes, standing on the sidewalk as they seized the mansion, the boat, the jet, and basically every other comfort I’ve ever had. All our houses, my apartment in the city, all of it gone, leaving me here.
Callie’s family is close to finishing the renovations on the other side of my duplex, so I’ll probably have a neighbor soon.
I’m not sure if that fact excites or worries me.
You never know who you’re going to get, and the last thing I want is to have to share a wall with someone annoying or weird.
It would be the cherry on top of this nightmare.
But who knows? Maybe karma is done screwing with me, and I’ll end up with someone whom I can actually become friends with.
You know, someone who doesn’t make a habit of sleeping with my boyfriends or care how much money I have.
One can dream, right?
Too drained to give it another thought, I drag myself into the shower like I do every day after work.
Maybe if I crank the water hot enough, it’ll melt the ice lodged in my chest and wash off the everlasting aroma of coffee that’s basically become my new perfume.
I close my eyes and stand there, letting the heat pour over me until the water loses its bite.
When I finally step out, I inhale deeply before wiping a hand across the fogged mirror.
The woman staring back at me looks nothing like the version of myself I thought I knew.
She’s a stranger wearing my face. And even with steam curling around the room, that cold I can never seem to shake is still there, settled deep, like it’s part of me now. Maybe it always has been.