“I’m coming in and we’re going to talk about this.”
“Uh… no, we’re not,” I say, punctuated by a bitter laugh that grates on my ears. He takes a step in my direction and I pull the door toward me, ready to put it between us if he tries to barge his way in here like he would have every other time.
“What happened the other night, Carly? You were ready to be with me and now, you can barely look at me.”
I’m mildly shocked his wife hasn’t confronted him about this yet and I’m trying desperately to ignore the pain that sparks in my chest at how easily he can play this role. If I didn’t already know the truth, the sincerity in his eyes would have won me over.
“It’s so easy for you, isn’t it? To lie and play people like they’re your puppets.”
“What are you talking about?”
Each time he speaks, my anger builds but lurking just behind that, is crushing heartache and I know I can only hold onto this façade for so long. “What happened, Chance, is I’m no longer interested in being your plaything.”
“You have never been a plaything,” he growls, stepping toward me and I meet his gaze with narrowed eyes.
“You take one step into this apartment and I will call the police. I do not want to see you again. I do not want to hear from you. We are done.” Slamming the door in his face, I flip the deadbolt and spin around, leaning back against it as I clamp my hand over my mouth and struggle to hold my tears at bay. Silence greets me, but I know he’s not gone yet. He’s not the kind of man that would give up so easily. Finally, he sighs.
“This is far from over, sweetheart.”
I listen as the sound of his boots echo down the hall before the first tear spills down my cheek. Sinking down to the floor, I pull my knees up to my chest and bury my head in my arms as the tears pour down my face and I’m right back to where I was last night. Hating Chance for making me fall in love with him when he could never truly be mine and hating myself for once again, choosing the wrong man.
The thing about pain is it makes you look inward, face some truths about yourself that you’d been avoiding and Chance breaking my heart revealed some things I had been hiding from for a very long time. Deep down, under the tragedy of my past and the layer of protection I had surrounded myself with, is someone who truly does want everything Chance offered to me. He’s changed me and there is no way I could ever go back to sleeping around like I did before. Which, if I’m honest with myself, never really worked for me anyway.
* * * *
“Carly,” Ivy calls out, standing from her table near the back wall of the restaurant and waving at me. Offering her a smile, I weave through the tables and wrap my arm around her in a quick hug before slipping into my seat.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” our waitress says, materializing out of nowhere with a wide smile and a notepad in her hand. “What can I get started for y’all today?”
Ivy orders her drink and meal before the waitress turns to me. I glance down at the menu that I haven’t even had a chance to open. I guess it’s a good thing we have the whole thing memorized.
“I’ll get a BLT with fries and a sweet tea.”
The waitress scribbles down our orders, flashing us another smile before she bustles back to the kitchen. I turn to Ivy, trying my best to maintain a happy demeanor so she won’t ask what’s wrong with me. It took twenty minutes and an ice pack on my face just to reduce the puffiness around my eyes from crying and if I let my mind wander to him, I’ll be right back in the same spot. It does occur to me though that the last time I was in this restaurant, I had just met him and in a way, it seems fitting I come here now that things are over. Although, I may never be able to walk in here without thinking of him or anywhere else, for that matter.
“Wow, you know what I just realized?” I ask her and she shakes her head. “You got here early. It’s the end of days, isn’t it? Do I need to look outside for flying pigs?”
“Ha ha, very funny,” she sneers, crinkling her nose at me and I laugh. “I forgot what a pain in the ass you are.”
“See, that wouldn’t have happened if you had shown up to Sunday dinner at any point in the past month.”
“It has not been a month,” she objects, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ve only missed two.”
The waitress stops by our table with our drinks and I smile up at her before turning my attention back to my sister. “And how many times in the last ten years have you missed dinner?”
“Just those two.”
I nod. “My point, exactly.”
She sighs, rolling her eyes at me before meeting my stare. “Oh, whatever. It was just two dinners and I won’t be missing any more.”
“Care to share what’s been keeping you away from Aunt Dottie’s cooking? Are you still mad at her?”
“No,” she says, shaking her head.
“Vi…”
Shaking her head, she grabs her tea and takes a sip. “No, it’s really not that. Julian has just been super busy helping his dad with campaign stuff and he text me at the last minute to tell me he wasn’t going to make it.”
“Then why didn’t you just come?”
She lets out a sardonic laugh. “Yeah, right. Like I could show up without Julian after everything with Dottie. Besides, maybe I was still a little mad at her.”
“That’s it?”
“Yep,” she says and something about the tone of her voice doesn’t sit right with me.
“What’s with the radio silence then?”
She fidgets in her seat, refusing to meet my gaze as she plays with her nails and I arch a brow, continuing to watch her. God, she’s such a terrible liar. Once when we were kids, she broke a cup and all Dad had to do to break her was ask us who did it. She started crying and apologizing until Dad scooped her up in his arms and told her it was all right.
“I’ve just been busy,” she says, still refusing to look at me.
“With what?”
She shrugs. “Uh… just stuff.”
“Vi, do I have to remind you of the cup incident? You can’t lie to save your life so how about you just tell me what’s going on?”
“Well,” she mutters, glancing up at me with a sigh. “There is something I need to tell you, but I’m worried about how you’re going to take it.”
She nervously pulls down the sleeve of her sweater, distracting me, and I tilt my head to the side.
“How in the hell are you wearing that? It’s like ninety degrees today.”
Her shoulders rise in another shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I was just cold.”
“Do you need to go to the doctor?” I ask, reaching across the table and pressing my fingers to her forehead. She brushes my hand away and shakes her head.
“Stop it. I’m fine. I know you guys have been worried about me, but I promise I’m really okay.”
I hold up my hands in surrender as I relax back into my chair. “Okay. What do you have to tell me then?”
Ivy fidgets some more in her seat, playing with the hem of her sleeve.
“Out with it, Sweetie,” I prompt, my own nerves amped up by hers. What on earth could she possibly have to tell me? Of course, with her tendency to over exaggerate, it could be the most mundane thing that she has to hype herself up to tell me.