Chapter 51
Chapter fifty-one
Audrey
Penny grunts, ripping the phone from my hands while balancing a very full glass of wine in her other hand.
“Dude, you have to just send it.” She swipes my screen. “Let me see what you’re working with.” She stares at my screen for several seconds while my patience wears thin.
“Nothing sounds right. Like, ‘Hi it’s me, your ex-girlfriend. I left half of my possessions at your house, but I just need to pick up one item. Burn the rest’.”
“Oh my god, you can’t let him burn your Celine bag!” Penny gasps and I wince. No, I’d never let him burn that bag.
“Penny, focus! He’s not burning my stuff. Unless he already has? Maybe that’s the reason he hasn’t reached out.” Our heads jerk toward each other, eyes wide. “Okay, give me the phone. I’m going to send him something cordial and professional.”
Plucking the phone from her hands, I type out something I’d send a coworker and hit send. Quick enough that I can’t even think about it. She hovers over my shoulder.
Audrey: Hello Rhett. I apologize for bothering you with this, but I am in need of the rhinestone cowgirl boots I left at your house. They belong to Penny. Could you kindly put them on your porch, and I’ll pick them up tomorrow? Please let me know a time that is convenient for you. Regards, Audrey.
“You signed the text with your name...” Her mouth is open as she continues to stare at my phone.
I flip the phone over, placing it beside me, and pick up a cracker with cheese. “Yeah, I know. But what if he deleted my number? He’ll need to know who’s texting him.” As the words leave my mouth, regret creeps right in. This is a disaster.
“Because a lot of girls leave their boots at his house…” Penny teases, but the vibration of my phone has us both jumping in our seats. A wave of nausea rolls through me, my hands growing clammy.
“Read it, I can’t.”
Penny reaches for the phone, and I lower my face into my knees as she reads it aloud.
“I’ll put them on the back patio at 8 a.m.”
I wait in silence, with bated breath, for Penny to continue.
Surely, there has to be more.
“That’s it? That’s all he said?” I croaked, glancing at my best friend.
“Sorry, babe.” Penny frowns sympathetically, and refills my glass, handing it to me silently. I take a mindless sip. I really thought he’d have something to say after all this time.
It’s been three days since I quit my job.
Technically, I had given my two weeks’ notice.
Even though I hated the place, I wanted to do the professional and right thing.
I was finishing out the two weeks remotely, deciding not to show my face in a place where people saw my last name and decided they already knew everything about me.
Those days were decidedly behind me.
I knew it was only a matter of time before my parents found out about my shameful resignation from the firm, so I had decided to call them and rip off the bandage.
My father barely said anything when I told him, but the disappointment seethed through the phone. Not one bit surprising.
My mother, however, reminded me quitting in such a fashion was clearly a violation of unspoken family rules. I stifled a laugh and kindly thanked them for helping me get that job, and finished the call letting them know there would be no further discussion about my career.
But that’s behind me, and it’s a new day. An early morning thunderstorm woke me right before my alarm at 6 a.m.; the lightning bright enough to cause flashes of light through my blackout curtains. Rolling over, I pull the covers off, reaching for my phone.
I don’t know why I’m still expecting something that is never going to happen.
Hope is a bitch.
Slipping my feet into slippers, I throw my silk robe on and trudge out to the kitchen.
I move through the kitchen, letting the heavy rain be my only soundtrack.
Within twenty minutes, I have the dough formed and the oven preheated.
Using a heart shaped cookie cutter—I left my bone shaped one at Rhett's—I cut out three dozen blueberry dog biscuits.
Just because Rhett and I aren’t together doesn’t mean Mabel should suffer.
While they baked, I quickly showered and threw on shorts and a college sweatshirt. I second guess my outfit choice, wondering if I should try to look nice, but the truth smacks me as I ruffle through my dresser drawers.
You’re not going to see him.
I knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t be home this morning. If he was avoiding me through text, he’d surely go out of his way to avoid me in person.
The blacktop of the highway greets me as I leave the city.
It’s me and a few cars heading out this way.
Everyone else is leaving the country, commuting into the city for work.
It only adds to the bizarre, anxious tightening in my stomach.
With every streetlight, stop sign, and cornfield passed, my heart hammers harder and harder.
Then the old familiar oak tree comes into view, the one with the tree swing that greets you as you pull into the long gravel driveway.
I turn down my music, like that will help me as I drive slowly past the white house, stopping in front of the garage.
My hand lingers on the shift knob as I put the car in park, wondering how the hell I got here.
How we got here.
I’m frozen in my car as memories from the first night I met Rhett come rushing back to me. It feels like a distant memory now. He might have thought he was just being polite, but now all these months later, I can see that night for what it truly was.
He saved me, but I don’t think he knows that.
Maybe that’s only just for me to know, but that makes it hurt worse. Because I never got to thank him properly. Thank him for being the first man in my life to see me for me; not for my family’s name or the number in my bank account.
Just then, a clumsy dog comes barreling around the corner, her ears flapping wildly as she rushes toward the car, pulling me from my cloudy thoughts.
“Mabel!” I yell, leaping out of the car as fast as I can to greet my sweet girl.
She whimpers and curls around my bare legs, her body wiggling with uncontained excitement.
She eventually succumbs to rolling over, exposing her belly.
I kneel in the gravel, pushing my fingers into her warm, brown fur.
“I missed you so much.” Her heart thuds under my palm, and as I reach behind me and snatch the treat container out of the car, she hops up, nose in the air.
“You didn’t think I'd show up empty handed, did you?” I pull a freshly baked treat out, and Mabel sits and gently takes it from me, galloping to the backdoor where she eats it in two bites. My eyes follow her to the paper grocery bag sitting on the steps.
Penny’s boots.
There’s no truck to be seen, only Mabel, manning the house all by herself. As I walk over, Mabel comes back to me, butt wiggling, and I place a hand on her head, scanning the backdoor.
“He did not,” I mumble in disbelief, eyeing the dog door. The expensive one I picked. Tears prick at my eyes, but I quickly wipe them away.
“Men are unbelievable.” Grumbling, I grab the boots from the steps but pause when I see the treat container in my hands.
I can’t leave it outside; Mabel will find a way to get to it, even if I set it on the table.
I glance at her, her gaze fixed on me and wonder if I could just put it in the kitchen instead.
But it’s not my house. It’s not my home to come and go as I please. Even if I had wanted it to be, even if I had silently said in my head this was home.
Now I see how careless that was of me.
Mabel pushes by me, effortlessly going through the doggy door. Little show-off. I smirk, conflicting feelings clouding me. Rhett installed the door. That means life went on without me here. And of course, I knew it had.
I have to go inside, though. For Mabel.
Just set the treats down and leave. It’ll be tempting to take some of my things, but I didn’t bring anything to pack them in and doing that would only betray his trust again. Something I’ve already done enough of. If I want to hold onto any hope for the future, I need to start rebuilding now.
Pushing my weight into the door, which always sticks, I silently thank Rhett for leaving it unlocked. The overcast skies outside darken the small kitchen, and it’s quiet enough that I can hear my heart thudding in my chest.
The sound of the ceiling fan whirling in Rhett’s bedroom draws my attention to the cracked open door, but I refuse to step closer to it. I also try to ignore the lingering smell of cedar and musk that flooded me the moment I stepped inside.
“I hope you’re taking care of yourself,” I whisper, surprised by the tightness in my throat.
Tears well in my eyes, so I quickly cleared my throat, and set the treat container down towards the back of the counter with purpose.
Before I can second guess myself, I leave, slamming the door behind me.
I snatch Penny’s boots as a misty drizzle meets me, and my focus narrows as I pull my sleeves over my hands and hurry toward the car, rain speckling my skin.
Then I hear a sudden whoosh, and when I turn, Mabel is running, trying to catch up to me.
I stop as she does, glancing at the gray storm clouds looming over us.
“I have to go, girl.” Every word hurts to say as I look into her deep, honey eyes.
“You be good, okay?” I bite my quivering lips and bend over, kissing the top of her head.
Thunderclaps sound in the distance and she lets out a startled howl.
“Go back inside Mabel, go on now.” I try to nudge her back to the house, but she plants herself in the driveway at my feet.
She has the dog door now and will go back inside to safety, but if I don’t leave, I know I’ll be pulled back in. Staying isn’t an option—it never was.
Scurrying to my car as rain releases from the cloud above, I toss the boots into the backseat and start the car with my heart in my throat.
Mabel continues to howl, watching me through the front window.
I punch the gas and spin the car around, speeding down the long driveway.
Through my blurry eyes, I catch movement in the rearview mirror.
The white house shrinks in the distance as Mabel trots after me, her pace quickening, faster and faster, chasing my car as I drive away.
“No, no, no! Dammit, Mabel,” I plead inside the car, my heart cracking in two. The tears fall faster than I can whisk them away, my chest heaving with sobs as I continue to turn onto the street. Mabel stands at the edge of the property, howling for me to come back.
White-knuckling the steering wheel, I drive away, feeling myself unravel with every mile that separates us.