I need to stop thinking about her, because it’s not going to do me any favors.
When I get a message later from one of my friends with benefits, a woman who is a cop and is known to be extremely wild in the bedroom, I consider accepting her invitation to come over tonight. I have a lot of pent-up frustration and I’d like to relieve it. After thinking about it, though, I decide to decline, which isn’t like me at all.
I head out for lunch, and then catch up with a client who wants me to help locate some of her lost jewelry items that were stolen from her residence. Sometimes people turn to us when they feel like the police aren’t taking their case seriously, or that the police just don’t have enough time and resources to help them to the extent that they want. And being on the other side of that, I get it.
Constance calls to tell me that she will be meeting Cara next weekend, and I act like this is totally new information for me. “I hope it all works out for you both,” I say.
“Thank you so much for finding her. And giving her the opportunity to reach out to me first instead was a great idea. I think it gave her time to reflect about it, and be in control of the situation, and she sounded really excited to meet me.”
Well, that worked out well, and I’m glad she sees it that way, even though it was just me wanting to make Cara comfortable.
And then I go to the gym for a muay thai training session and work out my frustrations.
Chapter Ten
Cara
I’m not sure if I should have messaged Decker or not, but I mean, we are friends, so there is no harm. It doesn’t need to be awkward. Nothing happened between us, but I have to admit to myself that I do keep thinking about him. Maybe it’s because I haven’t been with anyone other than Rhett in so long, or maybe it’s because those green eyes make my heart race. I don’t know. Not that I’d admit to any of this out loud—I’m even in denial to Clover, who I usually tell my every thought to.
Tonight I’m going to tell my family about Constance. Then next week I’m going to go and meet Constance. I’m nervous, but also very curious. From the conversation we had this morning, I know that she was born three years after me. I’m assuming my mom didn’t know about it, because she has never mentioned it, although we never really discuss that side of the family, if I could even call them that.
After work finishes, I head straight home to find Rhett standing at the front of my gate. I wince, knowing that he’s not going to be happy that I changed the code on the gate so he can’t just come in and out whenever he pleases anymore. I press the button on my keys so the gate slides open and drive inside, while he follows on foot.
He starts as soon as I open my car door. “So I’m not even welcome here anymore?”
“You are—you own half the house. I just prefer it be by appointment, not whenever you feel like it, until we figure out what to do about this place,” I say, grabbing my bag from the car, watching to make sure the gates close before I head to my front door. Now that we’re broken up, we have to figure out how to split this house. Mental note: never buy a house with someone who isn’t your spouse.
“You can have the house,” he says.
“We can discuss that later. What are you doing here anyway?”
“I came here to chat with you,” he says, following behind me. As he comes closer, I smell his cologne, a familiar scent, one that once felt like home but now reminds me of the past.
I said that we would still be friends and I did mean that, so I let him in and we both sit down on the couch.
“I just feel really shitty with how we left things,” he says, resting his elbows on his knees. He pushes his hair out of his eyes and leans back. “And what was with that guy? You with him now? You brought him back to our house, the night we break up?”
I wince. “I’m sorry about that, but it’s not what you think. Nothing happened between us. But you have to remember that the night we broke up I witnessed a random woman with her tongue down your throat.”
Now it’s his turn to wince. I don’t want this to be a tit-for-tat conversation. So I wave the metaphorical white flag. “I’m not with anyone, Rhett,” I reply.
“Still can’t trust him, Cara. He’s a cop.”
“Ex-cop, and he was Felix’s partner. You trust Felix, don’t you?” I fire back. “And this doesn’t have anything to do with us, Rhett. We are over, and now we need to heal and move on.”
He goes silent, and I wish I knew what he was thinking. “I love you, Cara.”
“I know you do. But are you in love with me?” I ask, because I know the answer to that. We started off so strong, so in love, but somewhere along the way we lost that. We lost that obsession with each other—that spark, that chemistry. We no longer want to be around each other all the time. We got used to being apart from each other, and that’s why now we can live without each other.
Rhett rubs the back of his neck in frustration.
“You aren’t in love with me, Rhett,” I answer for him. “Your actions have spoken for you. I deserve more than that. I will always love you, but I’m no longer in love with you.”
Such a slight wording difference, but it means so much.
It means the difference between friendship and true romantic love.
He looks down at his boots. “I just don’t know how you can walk away so easily.”
“This has been a long time coming, Rhett. At least a year now we haven’t been happy, but we’ve held on to each other because it’s too scary to let go. But that’s not a reason to be together. And I know that you have been with other women. There’s no point lying anymore.”
He lifts his head, blue eyes meeting mine. “I’m so sorry, Cara. I’ve fucked everything up. I just got so lost in the MC, and then Arrow told me they want me to take over the club one day, and it consumed me. I distanced myself from you, and just did whatever I wanted. I’m sorry. You’re the last person that I ever wanted to hurt.”
“Yeah, and you never even spoke to me about that. Aren’t we supposed to share things with one another?”
He takes a deep breath. “You’re right. I just didn’t know what you’d say and I didn’t know how to process it. It’s a lot of pressure.”
With that, my annoyance and anger for him are pushed to the back burner. I move over to him and give him a hug. “I bet. You know you can still talk to me about those things. We’re friends first. Always. Maybe we were meant to be each other’s first loves, and that’s it.”
And that’s okay. There was a lot of pressure on us to last forever, but that’s not always realistic.