She pauses her movements and drags her eyes up to mine. “Well, go do your work and then come back. We could watch a movie, just us two.”
“That sounds good.”
I go to her and lean in, kissing her lips. She accepts the intimacy but the pressure she usually applies is missing, and she’s ushering me out the door. Before I even realize, I’m on the outside of the apartment.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I try the handle on my apartment door, and it’s locked. Fuck, I left my keys downstairs.
Antonia’s door is open when I go back down, but she’s not in the living space, so I try to be quiet, hoping she’s managing to get some sleep, but her voice catches me off guard, coming from her room like she’s having a conversation with someone. She’s in her room, pacing the floor, talking on her cell. The sliver of space in the ajar door to her room gives me a perfect view of her.
“I miss you too. You know I love you. When I can, I’ll slip away and come and see you… Okay, tell the boys good luck.”
She ends the call and throws the cell on the bed before disappearing into the bathroom.
My feet are moving of their own accord. I’m in her room and grabbing her phone before I can register the boundaries I’m overstepping. My jealousy rules my head. I redial and pin the phone to my ear.
“Missing me that much, gorgeous?” A male English accent croons down the line. James? Disappointment and rage ravage my thoughts. I can’t deal with this. Every fiber of my being fights with the possessive, jealous man inside to not go in the bathroom and demand answers.
I end the call and make it out of there before she comes back. There’s no way she would have turned to him after everything we’ve been through. I refuse to believe it, and for the sake of moving forward, I need to get out of here and not let her know I checked her cell.
I FEEL LIKE I’M intruding on something that could only be described as a deluxe version of the Jerry Springer show.
Who would have thought those stiffs would be kinky, dirty bastards? I want to clap my hands and thank them for the entertainment, but when I see the pain and confusion in both Antonia’s and Gaby’s eyes, all the humor leaves my body in a rush. Guilt replaces it, for not taking the severity of the situation seriously. Annoyance settles in the pit of my stomach, and I’m torn between which one I should offer comfort to, if they’d even want it from me.
They have shitty timing with Antonia only being out of the hospital for one day. If anything, this will set her back.
It’s fucking surreal.
Antonia and Finlay share a sister. Gaby has been her best friend her whole life, and for that, they’re lucky, but they were still kept in the dark. Gaby leaves the room like a tornado blasting through it. I jump to my feet to follow her outside and grab her arm before she can disappear into her apartment.
“Let go of me,” she almost growls.
“I just want to talk,” I tell her, releasing her arm and lifting my hands in surrender.
She turns to me and shakes her head. There’s this thing she does with her face that shows some of the ugly inside her. Her mouth sets in a firm line, and her eyes squint in disgust at what they’re looking at. For such a cute girl, she can cause the murky traits of her personality to penetrate that pretty. I know it’s a way of protecting herself, but why does she have to hurt someone else to heal herself? I don’t think I could do that to another person.
“Nothing has changed between us, Gavin. So we’re not related, that’s great. I don’t have to feel more grossed out than I already do about sleeping with you.”
She gives me a look of loathing, and it’s as if she’s spitting venom and it’s liquefying my flesh and exposing my heart and my vulnerabilities for her to flay. Why does she resort to being so fucking spiteful?
I know she’s hurting and going through something huge right now, and I should just give her the space she needs, but I’d be lying to myself if I pretended it doesn’t fucking cut deep. They all mock me for being a man whore and not having girlfriends, but this is an excellent example of why I don’t open my heart to women. They are more dangerous than we are when it comes to the heart. Mine feels like it’s been put through a grinder and stuck together like a patty. Fuck my life.
I’VE BEEN DRINKING WAY too much lately, and it’s taking more and more liquor to create the buzz I need to escape from my thoughts. The door opens, and Brad walks in. He looks stressed. There are bags under his eyes, and his tie is loose where he’s apparently been pulling on it.
“Hey, man. Sorry to bring this to you with everything that’s been going on. “
He drones on with his apology, dropping his briefcase on the table and fiddling with the lock before opening it and gathering a stack of paperwork.
No more small talk beforehand. No building up to it. He wants his agreed shares, and I suppose he’s earned them.
“Pen?” I ask, knowing he will have at least five in his breast pocket.
“Sure.” He nods, pulling one from said pocket. “How are you doing?”
I raise a brow at him before taking the pen and signing where he points.
“I’m just fucking perfect.”
“How is Antonia?
Dropping the pen on top of the stack of papers, I shrug my shoulders.
“She’s dealing.”
“I’m sorry, man. If there’s anything I can do,” he tells me, gathering the paperwork together and stuffing it back in his briefcase. He offers me his hand like we’re businessmen and not best friends, and his whole demeanour is shaky.
He’s sweating and can’t look me in the eye. I guess when someone’s darkest days come, some people can’t stand not being in the sun.
My grief makes him uncomfortable.
“You’re doing enough taking care of the business for me. I’m going to need to take care of Antonia, so you’ll have to hold down the fort for a little while longer.”
He nods in agreement and shuffles his feet. He’s anxious to leave, and it’s awkward, and that saddens me. We’ve been friends for a long time, and I’m dealing with the worst shit that could happen, and he can’t wait to flee my presence.
“So, I’ll get this filed and let you get back to Antonia.”
“Okay, sure.” Before I can say anything else, he’s out the door.
Before the door closes, Gavin’s hand stops it and he comes inside.
“If you’re here to give me shit about accusing your dad of playing away with my mom, you can just save it because I’ve had my fill for one day.”
He’s pissed. There’s aggression in his stance. The muscles in his jaw are coiled and ticking.
“You were a complete dick, and we will have to talk about your fucking tact for future bullshit, but for now, you’re my best friend and you’re dealing with shit no one should have to, so I’m here to listen to you shout, scream, or just talk.”
He shuts the door and folds his arms over his chest.
“I don’t want to talk about it. There’s nothing to say that takes the sting that’s constant in my chest. Tell me something completely off topic.”
I wish I didn’t wake up today and could just sleep until all this turmoil in the pit of my gut fucking passes.