My heart does a little flutter, but it’s an odd one. Not one filled with the kind of anticipation I’m used to feeling when I see him.
Probably because his expression holds a hint of concern and he didn’t text before dropping by. As the lock slides from the bolt, I’m very well aware that he would have normally texted beforehand.
The door creaks open and instantly the chill of the sea breeze air clings to my bare shoulders which were covered by the blanket only a moment ago.
“Hey, you okay?” I ask instantly and step back, wanting more of the heat of my apartment over the crisp autumn air. “You didn’t text,” I say, adding the explanation as Robert steps in, closing the door and apologizing at the same time.
“Sorry,” he says as he loosens the tie around his neck and unbuttons the top button of his shirt. It’s a simple white button-up but it’s wrinkled, probably from sitting in meetings all day. The black dress pants and leather belt complete the new look he’s had since he started working at Town Hall.
“It’s my dad,” he starts, flopping down on the sofa. Dead smack in the center of it, which is his spot.
I’ve always had a hard time controlling my expression, mostly because of my rebellious brows. So when they quirk up, the left one arched as if to respond, “Your dad? Seriously?” Robert only laughs and pats the right cushion next to him. My spot. It boasts the still-warm blanket that I cuddle into as I sit beside him. My laptop is open on the coffee table and Robert gets a peek.
“You working on websites now?” he asks.
“Well no, just making notes for the guy who does … we need a lot of plugins added so we can do more with it.”
He hums and nods. I don’t let him off the hook so easily, saying, “It’s just a side project for the gallery. What’s going on with your dad?”
A yawn sneaks out after the words leave my mouth, though. It’s so late.
“I shouldn’t have come,” Robert says with a groan, letting his head fall back. “I’m sorry,” he tells me again and I smack his arm playfully.
“Quit it, and spit it out.”
“He wants me to have a date for the event this weekend.”
My caged heart protests at the word date but I remain silent.
“He wants me to bring someone, like as a guest to it.”
“Okay,” I say, playing dumb, barely responding at all as I lean forward and close the laptop.
“I know we aren’t a thing and he said he told the governor I’d go with his niece who’s in town … looking at colleges,” he adds absently as I let what he’s saying sink in.
“Okay, so what’s the problem?” I ask, playing it cool, ignoring every little emotion that feels like a thousand tiny pinpricks along my skin. I think I might even be sick just thinking about him with some pretty little thing on his arm at whatever fancy event is this weekend. I think it’s a charity for the library opening. This last week has been crazy with work and Bridget and I don’t remember what it was that he told me.
“So I think I … I am going with her …” His statement is uttered haltingly but his baby blue eyes never stop peering into mine. I’m the one who looks away.
“Okay, and you told your dad yes?” I ask him, my heart already breaking in half. We’re only friends, I remind myself. This was bound to happen. We had a good run … the thought lingers on the tip of my tongue.
“I didn’t answer him. I left.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Do you want me to tell him no?” he asks me. Like his life decisions should be in my hands.
“Why would I want that?” I question him back even though my throat feels suddenly so much smaller than it should. Tighter and dry.
“I don’t want you to be upset if I—”
“We’re just friends,” I say, cutting him off and reach forward for my laptop. “It’s totally fine,” I add with as upbeat a tone as possible. “If you really like her, though—”
“I don’t even know her,” he blurts out, interrupting me and he immediately sounds defensive, like it’s a fight. I don’t want to fight with him. I don’t want to lose him. I can’t imagine either of those possibilities right now so I shush him and look him dead in the eye when I tell him, “Seriously, Robert. It’s fine. We’re just friends and I’m not upset.”
“Yeah,” he answers, his gaze falling from mine to the floor, “just friends.”
Present day
It’s taking everything in me not to cry right now. The radio is barely on, but it’s on nonetheless, playing a love song and mocking me as I lean back in the driver’s seat and focus on taking deep breaths. The keys are still in the ignition even though the car is parked in my designated spot for the development.
I didn’t tell my boss, Mandy, that I locked up shop for the day and came right home. I have no idea what she’ll do or say when she finds out but I imagine I can’t confess to her and that she’ll understand. I saw a man who I loved and have been sleeping with for years while on a date with a man who might be the father of my child. I haven’t told either of them so I had to get the hell out of there before my little girl comes home so I can try to pull myself together.
Yeah, I can’t do that. Mandy doesn’t care about the mess I created. And yet, I did it anyway and I’m already coming up with another lie to add onto the pile. This one is the first for my boss: I felt absolutely ill out of nowhere and I had to go home. I suppose it’s not a complete lie. I could throw up right now just thinking about the look on Robert’s face when he saw me with Brody.
For being such a bad liar, I sure have told a lot of them to Brody.
I imagine what would have happened had I stayed seated there and a soap opera plays out in my head. Entertainment for the entire town.
It still hurts. It all hurts right now. Brody sees right through me. He sees that I’m a liar. I could see it in his eyes and it freaking hurts but that’s what I deserve, isn’t it? All these lies piling up. White lie or not. All I could think when he looked at me, even now when I close my eyes and see his handsome smile curve down, is: he’s never going to believe me about Bridget. And if he does, he’ll never forgive me.
The soap opera would have ended with me in tears and a broken heart. I knew it, sitting there and glancing between the two men. I can take my karma, and I will. Just not in front of everyone else. Please, whoever is up there, listening to this prayer, please let me go through it without an audience this time. Please. I’ll take what’s coming to me, but I just don’t want everyone to see my heartbreak again.
The console clicks as I open it, rummaging through the clutter of old sunglasses and sunblock for a napkin. I just need something to dab at the corner of my eyes in the rearview mirror.
I’m so caught up with just breathing and gathering my thoughts that I don’t hear the heavy thud of a car door beyond my pathetic sniffle.
It’s not until he calls my name that I’m aware there’s anyone outside my car door.
“Mags, please.” My chest tightens, painfully so. “Mags.” The way he says my name cuts through me, like he’s sad for me, drawing it out and before I can respond, my door is opened.