Camile sealed the bag and handed it to me. “I’m not mad.” She smiled reassuringly. “I just worry sometimes.”
I tilted my head. “What do you mean?”
She sighed and looked reluctant to tell me. She stood up straight and said, “I love that Griffin has as good of a friend as you. I’m glad you have each other. I sometimes worry, is all. I worry that having you around prevents him from finding someone. Or if he does find someone, they’ll never compare to you. I mean, how would a new girlfriend feel when she finds out that Griffin is going to Europe with another woman?”
I gave my response some thought before I said anything.
“I understand your fears. I would never stand in Griffin’s way of being with someone. And you might not know it, but he does date. Many times, they don’t get serious enough for him to introduce you to them.”
“That’s what worries me. What if he doesn’t get serious because of you?”
I shook my head. “Trust me, he’s always ended things for the right reasons. And until recently, I had my own boyfriend. I really don’t think I’d stop Griffin from finding someone.” I squeezed Camile’s arm. “And if it helps, if he did find someone before the trip, I would pay him for his ticket and take someone else. Or maybe his new girlfriend could come with us.” I swallowed, not liking the idea of Griffin with someone. I especially didn’t like the thought of being the third wheel on my own birthday trip. I already had negative feelings toward this imaginary girlfriend. “Either way, I would never do something that would make the woman he was dating uncomfortable.”
Camile pulled me into a hug. “Thanks for understanding, Madeline. I can see why Griffin likes you so much.”
I patted Camile’s back, but I couldn’t quite make myself feel as happy as she was.
Sixteen
Madeline
Tuesday evening, I got home from work to find Harris sitting in his car in my driveway.
I hadn’t heard anything from him since I’d left his house almost a week ago. Not a phone call or a text. Which was perfectly fine by me. It only made me more confused about what he was doing at my home.
I opened my garage door and pulled inside but didn’t close it behind me, like I normally would.
I got out of my car the same time Harris exited his.
He had a smile on his face and flowers in his hand.
Standing there, stunned, I could only watch as he approached me.
“Harris, I didn’t expect to see you.”
“I thought we’d left things on bad terms last week.”
When he reached me, he handed me the flowers and went to kiss me. Quickly, I turned my head, so he got my cheek instead of my lips.
Harris pursed his lips but didn’t say anything about my brush-off.
“You might as well come in,” I told him.
While I didn’t really want him in my house because I wanted him to leave right away, it was cold out, and I didn’t feel like shivering. Also, this would be a good time for me to give him back his things that he had left at my place. I had managed to pack it up over the weekend.
He followed me inside, and I went to my cupboards to find a vase for the flowers. I didn’t appreciate his gesture, but it wasn’t the flowers’ fault.
“Smells good in here.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I put a roast in the Crock-Pot this morning.” I loved coming home and not having to worry about cooking dinner.
“I love roast.”
I looked over my shoulder at him in confusion from the sink, where I was filling the vase with water. “Since when?”
He shrugged. “Since forever.”
I shook my head and went back to the flowers.
I didn’t ever remember Harris liking roast before. I thought he had eaten it at my house once, and if I remembered correctly, he hadn’t been too impressed.
“A home-cooked meal is always nice after being on the road.”
Ah. Now, I understood. He was hinting at me to invite him for dinner.
That wasn’t going to happen.
I finished putting the flowers in the vase and turned around. “I’m sorry. It’s a small roast, and Griff is already coming over for dinner,” I lied.
His lips pursed again. “I was hoping we could talk.”
I sighed. “Harris, we don’t really have anything to talk about.” I pushed away from the counter. “Give me a minute. I’ll be right back.”
I went to the guest bedroom, grabbed his box of junk I had collected, and brought it back to him. Setting it on the counter, I said, “Here is your stuff. If I forgot anything, let me know.”
Hopefully, this would send a message loud and clear that I didn’t want to talk to him about anything.
Harris went to the box, picked up a few things, and put them back. “I don’t understand why things have to end. You and I had a good thing going.”
I turned my head away and rolled my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I looked back at him. I put my hands together for emphasis. “Harris, you made no effort to celebrate my birthday, but even worse, you didn’t even tell me you were going to be out of town until I asked. The worst part is, you weren’t—and probably still aren’t—even sorry.”
“But I am sorry. The flowers are me apologizing.”
I threw up my hands. “My birthday is only part of it.” I used my fingers to start ticking off a list. “You don’t like my friends, we haven’t had sex in months, and we’re just plain not right for each other.”
“I like your friends,” he protested. “And I would love to take you to bed right now.”
I put my hand up. “No, thank you.” I shuddered. “And you don’t like my friends.”
“Okay. Then, how about I make more of an effort to like them?”
I tilted my head to the side. “I don’t understand. Why do you want to be with me so badly?”
“I like you, Madeline.”
Yeah, well, I don’t like you.
“Harris, we were together over a year, and you and I never said the words I love you.” I raised my eyebrows. “Don’t you think that’s a sign that things weren’t great between us?”
“I think you and I only need more time.”
I shook my head. “I think we had plenty of time.” I didn’t want to have this conversation anymore. “Did I forget anything?” I pointed to the box.
“No.” Harris wasn’t going to let me change the subject. “Will you at least have dinner with me this weekend?”
“No, thank you.”
“If that’s the way you want it,” he said and marched toward my living room and what I assumed was out the front door. He could have just gone back the way he had come in through the garage, but I had to give it to Harris for being dramatic.
“You forgot your stuff,” I said, realizing he’d left it on the counter. I chased after him. I really didn’t want him to have an excuse to see me again.
But he wasn’t going toward the front door; he was headed for the recliner in my living room.
I had to do something to end this.
“I had sex with someone else,” I blurted out.